OUR STORY

Bay of Plenty Beacon, Volume 7, Issue 92, 21 July 1944, Page 6

OUR STORY

THE FARTHING WREN

This is a story from England which I'm sure all my readers will like.

Little Jennie Wren should be one of the happiest birds in the world to-day, because it is her portrait that has been chose.ni to decorate one of the new coins of King George VI. The coin is only a farthing certainly—but it is a great honour, nevertheless.

Many people are wondering why a wren was chosen.- Some say it was because the little bird has been

known as "Royal Wren" or "King of Birds" since Saxon times, and that, in Germany its name "Zwan Konig" means Hedge King. Others say it is because of an old story. Once upon a time, the story goes.

the birds set forth to choose a king, and decided that the, bird who could fly the highest should be thus honoured. Up they all sailed into

the air—the darting sparrows, the singing larks, the hovering kestrels, Higher and higher they soared, un-

til one outstripped them all—the great eagle on his widespread pinions.

"The Eagle has won! The Eagle s King!" they all cried. -

But at that moment a burst of triumphant song surprised tliem. It ciyoie from the threat of a tiny when,, perched on the eagle's head, which had managed to creep, unnoticed, on to the great bird's back and so had been borne aloft.

Gt is quite possible that this old fable has led to the wren, and not the eagle, being known as the King of Birds, and thus probably explains why the wren is shown on the 1 new farthing.

There are many true stories about wrens and their lovable little habits. We often hear tales of tliem nesting in old boots and other queer places, and in winter they snuggle into haystacks and creep like little mice into all kinds of odd corners to get away from the cold. Here is a true story .showing how clever wrens are at making themselves, at home. I will tell it to you just as it was told to me.

"The manse was built, only a few years ago," my friend said, "and ever since, a pair of house-martins have paid us an annual visit, making a cosy summer home for themselves in a sunny corner of the, bedroom window. During the winter their home remained empty, a silent, forsaken dwelling, reminding us of warm da3 r s that were gone, and of twittering voices that early and late used to delight its. Then an unusual thing happened.

"We were sitting in the drawing room, close to the window,, one afternoon in February, when a wren appeared, followed by another and another until we had counted seven, each in turn creeping into the martin's nest to spend the night!

"I have often heard of the 'spare' nest wrens build for themselves us a resort for inclement. Aveather in the summer, but it was a new experience lor me actually to see the-