Wren Revisions

One of my favorite scientific names has long been that of the winter wren: Troglodytes troglodytes. “Troglodyte” means cave-dweller. When the binomial system uses the same word for genus and species, it’s considered the purest manifestation of the genus; all other species within the genus are compared to it. It’s the wren’s wren, so to speak, but it’s also the only wren species found in Eurasia, where it was first defined; still, gotta love that name.

Here in the U.S., we have nine no wait, this just in, ten wren species. Advances in taxonomy and genetics result in what is called splitting, the defining of new (usually geographically isolated) species. So the American Ornithologists’ Union, god-like in its powers, has just decreed that the American winter wren is actually two species: the Pacific Wren (Troglodytes pacificus), found in the northwest, and the eastern Winter Wren (Troglodytes hyemalis). What happened to T. troglodytes? It has been returned to sender. The Icelandic subspecies of T.t., which I saw recently, may present some future issues: it’s a bigger, darker, longer-legged and longer billed bird. Anyway, some note-making is now necessary in my copies of Sibley and Paterson.

Our winter wren, which probably does not speak any variation of Latin, is uncommon in Brooklyn, but can be found in Prospect Park. My first of the year was there in April. It’s a tiny brown job, notable for its short, squared-off, and upraised tail. A skulker, it prefers wood piles and ground covering to trees, hence that original cave-dwelling appellation. As with its cousins, the House wren and Carolina wren, also found in the park, you’re more likely to hear it before seeing it. The wrens are mighty little singers.