A month ago, I learned that house wrens exist. While peeling through my guide books for a match to the dull (but very loquacious) wren I saw hopping around a local community garden, I was embarrassed to discover that, not only was it not Carolina wren as I had suspected (my second guess was that it was a Bewick’s wren and turns out those don’t even live on the East Coast), but that this “house wren” is actually among the most widespread species of wrens in the Americas. Suffice to say, it was time I learned my wrens. 

A family of passerine birds confined to the New World with one exception (I’m not ready to discuss the baffling range of the Eurasian wren), there are approximately 88 species of wrens (the family’s Latin name being Troglodytidae in reference to the attraction of some wrens to small dark crevices). Considering my North American bias, I’m currently only worrying about learning ten. 

Though definitely fitting under the umbrella of Little Brown Birds, wrens are pretty easy to differentiate from other families filed under that dreaded denomination on account of their long, slender bills, chatty nature, and propensity to keep their tails up-cocked. I was probably eight when my dad and I built a bird box for Bewick’s wrens, and I never had any trouble distinguishing them from the sparrows and juncos that were also regular visitors to our yard. Though distinct as a family, things get stickier when trying to identify individual species. With a few exceptions, most North American wrens can be described as small, round birds with distinctively pale eyebrow lines, dark brown backs, and barring on the wings. Birders often rely on range, habitat, and song as identification cues. 

Of course, sometimes you have overlap, (such as during summer in Philadelphia) and thus I turned to drawing to get a better sense of the more subtle variations in shape and plumage between, say, Carolina wrens and house wrens (this project also afforded me some much-needed practice with colored pencils, a medium with which I’ve always struggled). 

You’ll notice my plate doesn’t include every species of North American wren. Honestly, this choice was largely based on my personal identification issues: rock wrens, cactus wrens, and canyon wrens are pretty distinct on account of size, plumage, and habitat. 

And with sedge wrens, well, my most sincere apologies, the fact that I included marsh wrens and not sedge wrens just goes to show my west coast bias. The good news is, telling a sedge wren from a marsh wren is pretty doable in general as sedge wrens stick to the shallow marshes while marsh wrens embed themselves deep in the wettest, reediest corners; if you’re still uncertain, look for barring on the shoulders—sedge wrens have it and marsh wrens don’t.

Do I know my wrens better after drawing a bunch of them? The moment of truth occurred during a walk through DC’s Roosevelt Island when I managed to focus my binocs on a little brown bird hopping about the underbrush. Ruddy plumage, sharp white brows, and up-cocked tail feathers: it was a Carolina wren alright!

Works Cited

Young, B. (2007-2024). Classic Collection of North American Birds. Field Guide for all of the birds of North America: Wrens. CCNAB. https://www.birds-of-north-america.net/wrens.html

Cornell Lab: All About Birds (2024). Bird Guide: Troglodytidae. Cornell University. https://www.allaboutbirds.org/guide/browse/taxonomy/Troglodytidae

Sibley, D. (2010, August 13). Distinguishing Pacific and Winter Wrens. Sibley Guides. https://www.sibleyguides.com/2010/08/distinguishing-pacific-and-winter-wrens/