There is a little, dilapidated wren house that brother in law, Paul, helped me hang shortly after Bruce and I were married. He lifted me up in the bucket of the loader so I could hang it on a branch from a wire that has now grown into the limb. Two days ago I heard a lot of chattering coming from the house so I stood outside and watched. A little wren head appeared out of the entrance hole and chittered away.
I first thought it must be the little mother, calling to her mate. "Chester! You have hungry kids in here, bring them some food!" (You need to imagine this in the shrill tone of a fishwife to really get the full effect.) "And don't be stopping off at the pool hall!"
Today I noticed a lot of activity so set up the camera and tripod with my honking big lens and practiced a lot of patience. There are babies in that house and the adults are kept busy flying back and forth with insects for their voracious brood.
"Open your mouth, across the tongue, look out stomach, here it comes."
After about an hour, I finally saw the grand finale, the male, I'm sure it was the male, the female would never do this, scrabbled for a good toe hold on the entrance hole.....
.....and then he was handed a gob of baby poop that he flew away with!!!
Don't you women agree with me, it had to be the male?