The Story of My Family
November 15, 2025
Greetings, kind Reader!
You may be wondering how I came to understand the speech of my best human friend, Eleanor! Well, it all began when I was living on her back porch, and wrens are decidedly curious, perhaps even a little nosy. I decided to explore her kitchen and took advantage of an open window. Eleanor walked in as I was inspecting a lovely blueberry pie cooling on the table. We locked eyes. She spoke first. She said, “you are quite welcome to stay, little wren.” Much to her extreme surprise, I accepted.
She admitted to me that she spoke to all animals that way and never expected a response, besides a panicked flight. Never in all her wildest dreams did she believe she would ever call a wren her dearest friend! And I never before considered the idea of befriending a human! Though I can understand human language fairly well, I am still a bird. There are some challenges, but Eleanor is teaching me more everyday. I am also teaching Eleanor the Wrenish language, so we understand one another well, in spite of the language barrier.
Yes, it is true that most animals do not possess the gift of intelligence that I have been blessed with…or cursed with in some ways. I am able to think of things, good or ill, that even the most intelligent animals cannot contemplate. For them, this is in many ways a blessing from the Creator. They do not worry about the future. They cannot make value judgments like I or a human can. They cannot determine what is good or evil. However, the Creator has given each animal specific gifts to help them survive and even thrive and enjoy life, but they are not the gifts of deep reflection and complex reasoning. He cares for them, though, and He has a purpose for them that we cannot imagine. The Creator says that all of his creation is good in its original design. It suffers greatly only because of sin.
Nevertheless, hope is not lost! St. Paul writes, “…creation waits eagerly for the sons of God to be revealed; for the creation was made subject to frustration — not willingly, but because of the one who subjected it. But it was given a reliable hope that it too would be set free from its bondage to decay and would enjoy the freedom accompanying the glory that God’s children will have” (Romans 8:19-21).
I say all this to explain that animals like myself have a different purpose, and origin. We are not many, but we exist, in secret and hidden in the deeps of the forests as well as in great cities! We are masters at blending in. You may have had contact with one of us before and never knew it. Perhaps that one squirrel that seems just a little more interested in you, or that deer that pauses and stares while the others flee for cover, or that wren that sings loudly just outside your window (as I did outside Eleanor’s kitchen window before I decided to have a look inside).
When I tell you the story that was passed down in the collective memory my family, you may begin to understand. I cannot tell it all here, for there are many chapters. I will, however, give you a brief introduction. The main character is my third cousin, once removed. His name is Atticus Seneca Theophilus of the family Wrentavius. My cousin’s father’s family had developed a strange habit of creating long, ostentatious, classically Latin sounding names for reasons which have fallen out of memory. We simply call him Atticus.
In any case, Atticus fell into an adventure such as he had never anticipated and for which he was wholy unprepared. Adventures tend to be things that happen when you are unprepared! This is why hobbits dislike them so. They can make you late for dinner!
Atticus was sheltered and not in the least experienced in the ways of the world. He failed to fully comprehend the dangers about which his parents desparately tried to warn him. He was restless and, well, a little rebellious. You may relate to that, friend. We are all susceptible to this particular defect, especially in our youth! Well, Atticus was no different, and it got him into quite a bit of trouble.
I will soon begin to share his story, which was originally written down by Atticus’ friend, a scribe, called Mahalal’el “the Wanderer.”
Thank you for visiting my wee website and please come back again for the first chapter in Atticus’ adventure!
God bless, and I hope to see you again soon!
Nora Lamar