Last year I found a Wren’s nest, high in a tree in a wasteland in Rome. It was in an old hole, probably from a woodpecker, with fungi growing from the rotting wood beneath it. You can see the greenery of the nest bulging out behind the mushrooms.
It was fascinating to sit in the shade of another tree and watch the adults come back and forth with food and then take away the youngsters’ waste.
The land they were on was badly burnt last year and their tree was scorched. The land is due to be built upon and all the wildlife destroyed. Il Pratone di Torre Spaccata, the Field of the Broken Tower, is likely to be concrete and an industrial estate with a cinema studio.
I’d rather have the Wrens living out their tiny, vital lives.