She’s back.

She is the Carolina Wren that has taken up in my utility room for the past several spring times.

I first noticed the little sprightly blur as I walked in to my utility room to do the laundry around the first of March.

Then, I noticed the signs of construction – the pine straw and the occasional stick.

Looking over the shelf where the detergent and bleach sit was her little, modest abode.

I kept an eye on the nest for the next few days, but there was no activity around it. So, I gently picked up the nest and evicted my tenant.

Intending to the throw the nest out, I put it on my freezer  to do the chore some other time.

The nest was a feat of engineering. All the blades of pine straw, tufts of grass and small sticks were entwined together to make a cozy little home for my feathered friend. She had taken a strip of a plastic grocery bag and lined the bottom.

A few days later I noticed the nest wasn’t sitting on the freezer any more. In it’s place were a few stray blades of pine straw and grass.

Peering back into the utility room, there it was. She had rebuilt the entire nest just a little further back and to the side of where she originally placed it. This time, she wedged it in between the old Keurig® box and the bleach bottle — but still right above the washing machine.

She is determined to live with me. She is the only woman who will.

I’ve been wanting one of those for a long time. I am picky, obviously, by way of being a bachelor up until now. I’m looking for a cute, petite, brunette — a Primitive Baptist girl.

This one is none of those things — but she has decided my house is her house.

She returns every spring, but she is generally gone by the summer – just like all the girls I’ve ever dated.

She stares at me with her little beady eyes and raises lots of “meeps” like Beaker from the Muppets.

When I did the laundry last week, she was there, sleeping soundly or engaged in motherly duties. She has three eggs in her nest. I was as quiet as I could be and she didn’t stir.

The next morning, I peaked in on her and almost got dive bombed between the eyes. Apparently, she is not a morning person.

She has, over the last few years, been a good mother, mostly. She has raised three or four little ones each year.

Once she gets them raised it’s always comical when fly away day comes for her little ones. She lines them up on the freezer and flutters her wings at them to get them to the edge – then she pushes them off the side. There’s a lesson there.

“You’ve got to find your wings.”

The one lesson she has taught me is persistence. She is one determined little gal.

I took down the Christmas tree she built in. I watered her unknowingly when she built in one of my flower pots and this year I tore down her nest.

She keeps coming back.

I think maybe she likes me.

She is the only chick who does.

• Jason Deal is a staff writer for The Blackshear Times. Reach him at