I write a lot about the sounds I hear in the wild: the hoot of an owl, the melody of a mockingbird and the squawk of a woodpecker, to name just a few. But the song of a canyon wren might be one of the most beautiful in the bird world as it beckons the hiker and birdwatcher like a Siren calling Odysseus. And there's a double reward because spotting this tiny bird is also a singular visual delight, well worth the effort and patience it might take.
Fitting for such a special bird, each memory of my three life-time encounters with the canyon wren is indelibly etched in my brain. The first time I saw one was at Boyce Thompson Arboretum, Arizona's oldest and largest botanical garden, located an hour east of Phoenix in Tonto National Forest.
The individual of this wide-ranging bird species was perched on a boulder in the Sonoran Desert Exhibit and initially seemed more curious about me than I was of him; I was new to birding and didn't quite know the difference between a cactus, rock, house or Bewick's wren. But I did know to shoot first and ask questions later, and was lucky to get the best shots I would ever take of what is, for me, a tricky subject to find.
I went back to Boyce Thompson the following year and hoped to get more shots of this elusive bird. While I would see cordilleran flycatchers and broad-billed hummingbirds at the high desert park, I was disappointed not to encounter any of these cute wrens. Indeed it is a lovely bird; not much bigger than a small sparrow, it has a squat body decorated with both a white chest and a white chin, a spotted rusty back and a striped tail.
But I'd have better luck - in fact, two separate times! - a hundred and twenty-five miles away, along Badger Springs Trail in Agua Fria National Monument. I hiked the short, stream-filled pathway to the Agua Fria River a few weeks before my second - and unsuccessful - visit to Boyce Thompson in 2017. Past the renowned petroglyphs and down the river a bit, I spotted a canyon wren in a pile of accumulated wood debris from several previous winters' high-running water.
My couple of shots were distant and fuzzy, nowhere near as good as my first shots of the bird at the arboretum from the previous year. I actually don't remember if I heard its famous song - I was still a novice birder and was as equally interested in the park's landscape - but it's this music that might be the most distinctive characteristic of the canyon wren.
Peterson's calls the little bird's big voice "a gushing cadence of clear, curved notes tripping down the scale," while The Cornell Lab describes "a gorgeous series of sweet, cascading whistles that echo off the rocky walls of its canyon habitat." And I couldn't agree more.
Last week, after almost three years since my last visit, I made an impulsive stop at Badger Springs Trail. And almost at the same location as three years before, I encountered a canyon wren. Seasoned a bit more with birding experience, I noticed the bird's call, drawing my gaze and camera in its direction. The wren was as far away as it was the last time I had seen it, but listening to it made it seem so much closer.
It darted from one boulder to another, from one side of a wash to the other, and along both sides of the wet, sandy trail. I was able to track it for several minutes as I followed its beacon call, enchanting me with the beauty of its notes trilling along the shallow canyon walls. As the wren climbed higher above the ancient petroglyphs, so did its song, stringing notes like spring flower blossoms on the pristine bliss of this timeless gathering place.
(Click here to read about Badger Springs Trail)
(Click here to read about Boyce Thompson Arboretum)
Fitting for such a special bird, each memory of my three life-time encounters with the canyon wren is indelibly etched in my brain. The first time I saw one was at Boyce Thompson Arboretum, Arizona's oldest and largest botanical garden, located an hour east of Phoenix in Tonto National Forest.
The individual of this wide-ranging bird species was perched on a boulder in the Sonoran Desert Exhibit and initially seemed more curious about me than I was of him; I was new to birding and didn't quite know the difference between a cactus, rock, house or Bewick's wren. But I did know to shoot first and ask questions later, and was lucky to get the best shots I would ever take of what is, for me, a tricky subject to find.
I went back to Boyce Thompson the following year and hoped to get more shots of this elusive bird. While I would see cordilleran flycatchers and broad-billed hummingbirds at the high desert park, I was disappointed not to encounter any of these cute wrens. Indeed it is a lovely bird; not much bigger than a small sparrow, it has a squat body decorated with both a white chest and a white chin, a spotted rusty back and a striped tail.
But I'd have better luck - in fact, two separate times! - a hundred and twenty-five miles away, along Badger Springs Trail in Agua Fria National Monument. I hiked the short, stream-filled pathway to the Agua Fria River a few weeks before my second - and unsuccessful - visit to Boyce Thompson in 2017. Past the renowned petroglyphs and down the river a bit, I spotted a canyon wren in a pile of accumulated wood debris from several previous winters' high-running water.
My couple of shots were distant and fuzzy, nowhere near as good as my first shots of the bird at the arboretum from the previous year. I actually don't remember if I heard its famous song - I was still a novice birder and was as equally interested in the park's landscape - but it's this music that might be the most distinctive characteristic of the canyon wren.
Peterson's calls the little bird's big voice "a gushing cadence of clear, curved notes tripping down the scale," while The Cornell Lab describes "a gorgeous series of sweet, cascading whistles that echo off the rocky walls of its canyon habitat." And I couldn't agree more.
Last week, after almost three years since my last visit, I made an impulsive stop at Badger Springs Trail. And almost at the same location as three years before, I encountered a canyon wren. Seasoned a bit more with birding experience, I noticed the bird's call, drawing my gaze and camera in its direction. The wren was as far away as it was the last time I had seen it, but listening to it made it seem so much closer.
It darted from one boulder to another, from one side of a wash to the other, and along both sides of the wet, sandy trail. I was able to track it for several minutes as I followed its beacon call, enchanting me with the beauty of its notes trilling along the shallow canyon walls. As the wren climbed higher above the ancient petroglyphs, so did its song, stringing notes like spring flower blossoms on the pristine bliss of this timeless gathering place.
(Click here to read about Badger Springs Trail)
(Click here to read about Boyce Thompson Arboretum)
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| Canyon wren at Boyce Thompson Arboretum 2016. |
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| Canyon wren at Boyce Thompson Arboretum 2016. |
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| Canyon wren at Boyce Thompson Arboretum 2016 as it squeezes and stretches through crevices. |
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| Canyon wren at Agua Fria National Monument 2017. |
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| Canyon wren at Agua Fria National Monument 2017. |
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| Canyon wren at Agua Fria National Monument 2020. |
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| Canyon wren at Agua Fria National Monument 2020. |
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