A pair of wrens is nesting in the porch beams. Mama wren arrives with a live worm in her beak and the nest erupts in frantic chirping and squeaking as four tiny heads on long thin necks shoot out, blind eyes open, beaks stretched wide to receive. Quickly she pops bits of worm into the open mouths and flits away for more, just as dad arrives with another juicy morsel. He feeds, they switch off, and so it goes, from dawn to sunset.
Soon the nest will be stuffed with bodies and the chicks will take wing. The porch will go quiet for a while. In spring the wrens will be back, to lay a new clutch of eggs and do it again. Not a bad life, for a bird.