Tilly the Wren Who Tried Again

A warm story about the second, third and fourth try, and why mistakes are only the middle of the job.

Tilly was a blue wren, small enough to sit in a teacup. She had a bright blue cap, a long, perky tail, and one big plan. She wanted to build the best nest in the whole garden.

On Monday, Tilly gathered twigs and made a neat little ring in the lavender bush. She was proud of it. Then a strong wind puffed through and the twigs tumbled to the ground. Tilly sat in the dirt and said, “Oh, dear.”

On Tuesday, Tilly built the nest again. This time she piled the twigs high. But the nest was lopsided, and it wobbled like jelly. When she hopped in, the whole thing slumped to one side.

Tilly flopped on a branch with her tail drooping. “I am no good at nests,” she sighed. “I should stop trying.”

An old magpie called Mags was watching from the fence. She had grey in her feathers and a kind, crinkly eye. “Tilly,” she said, “how many nests do you think I have built in my life?”

Tilly blinked. “One? Maybe two?” Mags chuckled. “More than I can count. And do you know how many fell down the first time? Almost all of them.”

Tilly was very surprised. “But you are so good at it!” Mags nodded. “I am good at it because I kept going. Every time a nest fell, I learned something. A strong nest is just a lot of tries stuck together.”

So on Wednesday, Tilly tried again. This time she wove the twigs round and round, and she tucked in soft grass to hold them tight. She stopped to check each piece. It took all morning.

At sunset, Tilly hopped into her nest. It did not wobble. It did not slump. It held her snugly, like a pair of cupped hands. Tilly fluffed her feathers and smiled.

“Thank you, Mags,” she called. “I think I will be very good at nests now.” Mags chuckled again. “You already are, little one. You just had to have the fourth go.”

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