Sharon sat out on the front porch in Aunt Kathy's rocker and watched a male Carolina Wren start on his 2nd nest of the day, determined to outbuild his competitor over in the eaves on the north side of the house. The fickle female just would not make up her mind. She was toying with his affections, flirting, interested, but with a still roving eye. He'd worked hard on the first nest, and sung real purt and bright, but she wouldn't make up her mind. Kept flittin' around the corner to that other fella's place to let him woo her too. He had finally decided to go check out the competiion.

    The other guy's place weren't built near as nice as his (in his humble opinion), but it was tucked up in that eave right cozy. Flying back to the porch, he pondered a bit, studying up on the situation. It was a fine nest he had built, if you asked him. More substantial than that of the rounder around the corner. How could she not see the difference? He hopped around the rails of the porch, jumped up to the joists of the ceiling, hopped down to the windowsill. He spied the rucksack hanging on the hook between the door and the window. Interesting. Very interesting. Paying little attention to Sharon, just a few feet away, he flew over to inspect. For a few moments he clung to the strap. He turned and twisted, checking out the immediate surroundings. Could the cat get to it? What about the black snake that lived in the crawl space? He jumped down to the rim of the pouch, hopped back up on the strap, flitted over to the porch rail, sang lustily for a bar or two, then back to the rim of pouch. He cocked his head sideways to get a clear view of the interior, then disappeared down into the depths of the bag. Soon he was back up on the rim, singing again to make sure the female knew what he was about. From there, he flew down to the ground to scratch for bugs, flew off, and returned in less than two minutes, the first piece of detris from which he would build the nest in his beak.

    Sharon wondered if he would finish it before dark. She heard a slight noice behind her and turned her head to look at the door. Aunt Kathy stood in the doorway, not opening the screen, her eyes on the wren. She started to rise, but aunt Kathy waved her off with one hand, pointing at the bird with the other.