A metafilter user published humor-articles">a post about a series of articles by Mike O'Connor, who he describes as "a "Car Talk" of bird writing." O'Connor writes a column called "Ask the Bird Folks" for his local newspaper in Cape Cod, MA. Five of O'Connor's articles were chosen to be published in an edition of The Best American Science and Nature Writing. I've been reading through O'Connor's articles all morning, and it's great stuff. O'Connor writes with humor and - as the owner of Bird Watcher's General Store - many years of experience. The full archive of his articles is here, and it should keep you away from doing productive paperwork for quite a while! I live in the woods of the Pacific Northwest, and I see a staggering variety of birds here in the course of any given day. At night, I hear owls - I've identified six kinds so far. I love the birds, big and little, but I have to admit that the winter wren is beginning to vex me. This little wren is a year-round resident, and its "chip chip" call provides cheerful company when I'm out doing yardwork or bringing in firewood. And it's ever so cute, with its stubby little tail stuck straight up in the air. (There may be more than one wren, but since I've only ever seen one at a time, I'm assuming there's just one.) Unfortunately for some reason this year, the wren has decided that it really really wants to perch in the eaves of my house, right where the roof overhang meets the siding. The problem is that the siding is smooth there, and there's absolutely no place to perch. This minor fact hasn't dissuaded the winter wren from its quest. I hear it several times a day, flapping around frantically under the eaves, searching for a place to perch. My first instinct was to climb up on a ladder and glue some sort of perch under the eave. "The poor little bird," I thought, "it needs a place to rest!" Then I realized that I live in the woods. I live on five acres of wooded property, and my property is surrounded by literally thousands of acres of woods. There is no shortage of habitat out here. It practically abounds with perches. I'm swimming in perches. "This bird is an idiot," I thought. Whenever I saw it fluttering around up there, I would shake my head and tell it to give it up, man. You're never going to find a perch there! That's what I had thought, until I read O'Connor's article on the winter wren. I was surprised to see him refer to the wren as "reclusive." I see the wren at least once a day. I even see it from the comfort my desk, when the firewood is stacked high enough against the outside wall. Right now the firewood is stacked to just below the window behind my desk, and the wren often stops by to peck bugs out of the firewood. It's a year-round resident here on the property, and I rarely make a trip outside without hearing it chirping and thrashing around in the brush. At the end of his article, O'Connor talks about the resourceful feeding of the winter wren. He writes, "There is no dark hole, no shadowy abyss, no creepy cranny, or cobweb-covered tunnel that this bird won't enter." So I think I may have had it wrong all along - the little guy isn't looking for a perch. He's cleaning out bugs from the eaves. The next time I see it, I'll have to apologize!