Wild Bird

“Anabella was in the eighth-grade wing and too busy making her own new friends to worry about me. Outgoing and really pretty, she was instantly popular. […] I used to try to live up to that. I used to try hard.”

Wren describes how easily Annabella made new friends at their new school, while Wren didn’t. Annabella’s easy adjustment is painful to Wren for multiple reasons. It makes Wren feel inadequate, for she is unable to find the same social success and feels like she is failing. She also feels left behind, and her loneliness intensifies. This pain eventually turns into hatred toward Annabella, and the sisters’ relationship is strained for a long time.

“Her singsongy voice is not so friendly anymore, but Fine? That’s it? No cross-examination? I watch her as she walks around the desk and toward the door. No calling me a prevaricator?”

Upon lying about her past substance abuse, Wren is stunned when the doctor does not question her further during her physical examination at camp. This reaction is new for Wren, as she has been on the receiving end of her family’s suspicion for the past three years. However, the treatment Wren receives at the base camp is consistent with her later experiences at camp, where people treat her with respect and trust. This is especially healing for Wren.

“There was no way I could have Meadow over. One look at her and my parents would freak out. But I did tell Meadow about it at school the next day […] and then she went and said, ‘Perfect! Once they get to know me, they’ll trust you to hang at my house. […] Trust me, Wren. I know how to work this!’”

When Wren tells Meadow that her parents want to meet her, Meadow is unfazed, claiming that she can get Wren’s family to trust her. Meadow’s eventual success at this is a huge red flag, indicating just how calculating and manipulative she can be. Wren is eventually on the receiving end of this behavior, too, though she only realizes it much later in their friendship. This realization is the root of Wren’s subsequent trust issues.

“I close my eyes. And even though I fight them back, tears squeeze through until I finally just let them loose, sobbing silently until I’m all wrung out. And just as I’m sinking into sleep, surrendering to the darkness of the worst day ever, I hear a rumbling overhead. […] Then the sky opens up and rain comes pouring down.”

Wren refuses all help from the counselors on her first night at camp, tired and frustrated at her situation. However, this has negative consequences for Wren, as she is caught out by the rain with no one coming forward to help. This is an intense but effective lesson for Wren about consequences and accountability. In a similar instance later in the story, when she is stuck in the wild with potential rain during her solo quest, she reins in her emotional reaction and responds much more pragmatically and responsibly.

“But in the last two weeks, I’d learned another lesson the hard way. I couldn’t trust Meadow. At all. Telling her about Nico had been a huge mistake. I wasn’t about to tell her about Anabella. Even though I hated Anabella.”

Wren learns time and time again that Meadow cannot be trusted. In this instance, she has recently discovered that Meadow is the one who told Nico that Wren was only 14. This passage indicates how alone Wren is, with no emotional or social support: She hates her sister, and she also cannot trust the only “friend” she has.

“‘Willful and smart,’ she says. There’s no judgment in it. Or selling. She just says it like it’s a fact. A good fact. About me.”

When Wren quickly learns how to find water and begins thinking ahead about storing and purifying it, Dvorka compliments her. Wren is taken aback when Dvorka commenting positively on the same character traits she was criticized for back home. She is further disarmed by the lack of judgment and manipulation in Dvorka’s reaction, having constantly been on the receiving end of such tactics in every relationship.

“I wind up digging through the handbook, looking for how to make fire. If I can’t get out of the desert, at least I can get out of being a Rabbit. Seeing what the other girls are allowed to do—just seeing them be together—makes me feel so left out. So alone.”

Wren eagerly attempts to learn how to make a fire, as it will guarantee her advancement from Rabbit to Coyote. Wren’s motivation is partly the loneliness she feels, as the other girls cannot talk to her while she is still a Rabbit. Wren’s feelings display the intensity of the adolescent need for belonging in a social group. Even at camp, which Wren hates, she cannot help but long to be a part of the group.

“You’ll get it […] And when you do, things will change. […] If you can start a fire out here, you can start one inside yourself.”

In response to Wren’s frustrated outburst at her unsuccessful attempts to build a fire, Michelle calmly offers her this advice. Fire is a powerful recurring symbol in the book. Michelle’s assertion that things change once one can build a fire is both literal and metaphorical, for it shows that the campers are displaying the potential and readiness for evolution. Later, Wren identifies the moment she built her first fire as the point where things started to change for her.

“The truth is I’ve been feeling left out and ignored. Like everyone else belongs and I’m not fit to be in their group. But now I’ve got an excited flutter in my stomach. The other Grizzlies want me to move up to Coyote, to join them around their campfire.”

One of the Coyotes breaks the rule against talking to Rabbits and offers Wren encouragement to build the fire. This greatly bolsters Wren; for a young girl looking for acceptance and belonging, the support of her peers has a galvanizing effect. Wren goes on to successfully start her first bow-drill fire only moments after this encounter.

“First willful became a compliment instead of a complaint, and now I’m a storyteller, and that’s considered a good thing. At home that word is on my parents’ rotation of synonyms that included liar and prevaricator, fibber and fabricator, con artist and dissembler. I […] [wonder] how being called the exact same word can make a person feel so completely different.”

Wren is invited to be the Coyotes’ storyteller in her transition ritual. She is amazed at how this label is used positively: a vastly different experience than when her parents used it as a synonym for “liar.” The fact that this same word can make Wren feel so differently in this context is a nod to the theme of Shedding Labels and Embracing Self-Discovery. Wren learns that labels don’t need to be limiting, and throughout the book, she sheds some old ones, reclaims others, and adopts some new ones, too.

“Mom and Dad were also too busy or tired to notice that Anabella and I were fighting, or that Mo would wake up alone in his big new room and start to cry. They didn’t notice that I’d go into his room and tell him a story […] until he fell back to sleep.”

Wren reflects on how the move to a bigger house in Orange County led to a general rift and sense of neglect within the family. This passage highlights the fact that Wren’s parents withdrew their support when Wren really needed them, and it also emphasizes her ability to put aside her own frustration and be there for her brother. Thus, Wren has an inherent capability for responsibility, leadership, and nurturance if it is given the space to flourish.

“‘You don’t get it now, but you will.’ ‘Get what?’ ‘How much Michelle cares. Her and Dvorka both. […] You’re on Coyote now. You don’t dis them. Ever.’ ‘But I didn’t—‘ ‘Yes’—she holds me with a hard look—‘you did.’”

Mia, one of the Coyotes, explains why everyone is giving her the cold shouldering her, and Wren learns that being disrespectful to the counselors carries serious consequences. This is a wake-up call for Wren. Unlike back home, she is in the company of peers who have been through similar and even far worse difficulties than she has, so Wren cannot claim that they don’t understand her situation. Thus, when such peers claim that the adults at camp care about them, it carries additional weight in Wren’s mind. Wren ends up offering Michelle a sincere apology shortly after, something that is new to Wren.

“Suddenly there was this rush. This really strong electric high. Every cell in my body tingled. […] I was on top of the world, totally hooked.”

Wren recalls the feeling of successfully shoplifting for the first time. For an adolescent who is pushing boundaries, and who is still developing physiologically, psychologically, and emotionally, such an experience can be dangerously addictive. The high that Wren feels after getting away with something forbidden is intensely rewarding, and the pleasure serves as a perfect escape from her emotional pain. Wren also finds an escapist pleasure in dangerous and unhealthy behaviors, like substance abuse, which helps her forget her sadness.

“She’s arm’s length. Clinical. Telling me how they won’t be ‘fetching’ me from ‘therapy camp,’ how she’s spoken with the director and knows that I’ve ‘greatly exaggerated’ the situation and ‘need to stop overdramatizing every little thing.’”

Wren reads the first letter from home after she arrives at camp, in which her mother responds to the angry outburst that Wren sent home in writing after the first day. This is the tone of most of Lydia’s letters to Wren: distant and disbelieving. This tone is magnified by the fact that her letters are typed out rather than handwritten. It pains and saddens Wren, and she masks these feelings as anger and irritation.

“From farther away another warbler twitters. I hold up my finger, hold in my breath, and listen as the birds sing back and forth. It makes me happier than I can explain.”

Wren listens to a warbler’s song and feels inexplicably happy. Birds are a recurring symbol in the book, especially in conjunction with the title. Wren’s positive reaction to birdsong is a sign of progress, just as her initial negative reaction to Dax’s teasing about her name was a sign of her anger. By the end of the book, Wren braids bird feathers into her hair, a sign of her self-acceptance, as she reconciles with the moniker of “Wild Bird” that Mokov bestows on her.

“All therapy did was make me hate everyone, everything, even harder. […] this is a wilderness therapy camp, and that’s a problem. I’ll do the endless hiking, I’ll sleep in the dirt, I’ll squat over a hole, but I’m not talking about, not writing about, my feelings.”

Wren recalls her negative experiences with therapy in the past, times when she sat through multiple sessions with people she believed didn’t like or understand her. Therapy sessions were additionally frustrating because when Wren was in therapy, she knew that her mother and Annabella were spending time together. This leaves Wren determined to stonewall the therapeutic aspects at camp, such as letter-writing and talking about one’s feelings, for a long time.

“Learning to trust again can be as hard as learning to love again after we’ve had our heart broken. It’s the other edge of the same sword. […] Likewise, […] holding another’s trust is a profound responsibility. And breaking someone’s trust is, in some ways, worse than breaking their heart, because it accomplishes both at once.”

Tara talks to the campers about why having one’s trust broken can feel so painful. In the same breath, she also emphasizes the need to maintain someone else’s trust. While Wren has experienced betrayal in multiple forms and relationships, she also needs to recognize that she, too, has broken the trust of others. It is only when she is able to accept both the former and the latter that she is able to begin healing relationships in her life, as indicated by the confession and apology letters she sends her family.

“The very next day, I started yanking Meadow’s chain like she’d been yanking mine for years. I acted like nothing had happened. I acted like she was my best friend. Someone I could totally trust. And then I started telling her stories that were mostly lies.”

Wren realizes that Meadow is violently jealous about her dealings with Nico and begins using this to her advantage. Wren’s decision to make up stories about the nature of her interactions with Nico indicates her lack of control over her life. She is desperate to regain some degree of control in her relationship with Meadow. Secondly, her experiences with Meadow has unfortunately taught her that the best way to gain results is by lying and manipulation.

“At the time, what I saw was them crying over the piano and the things I’d smashed. […] Now I can’t seem to block out the way they were sobbing, heaving, collapsing into each other. […] what I see now is them grieving. Like someone had died.”

Wren remembers the scene that occurred after she carved the swastika in her mother’s piano. Her changed perspective on what she saw indicates that Wren is finally able to see things from others’ perspectives. Wren’s empathy is rekindled when she develops a new confidence and self-assurance because of the skills she has acquired. The consistent acceptance and lack of judgment from others has allowed her to look at herself with more honesty, and she also benefits from community living.

“There are no leftovers out here. If you don’t eat everything you cook, you will go hungry. Maybe not today, but when your rations run out before resupply.”

Alone in the wild, Wren reflects on how differently she approaches things, from the way she eats to what she needs to feel comfortable. Wren’s specific reflection in this passage is an example of how she is learning about natural consequences. There is no artificially introduced punishment or judgment that accompanies the consequences of one’s action in the wilderness; thus, one is more open to learning from and accepting responsibility.

“Happiness from inside. How is this even possible? I rewind my thoughts and pause at the moment the feeling triggered inside me. It was knowing I could make a griddle out of nothing but sticks and trash. And right beside that thought is knowing I can build a fire with friction, I can cook pancakes over coals, bake potatoes in the ground. I can string up a tent, make my own shelter, outsmart the rain. I can do stuff.”

Wren is amazed by the fact that she can feel happiness from something internal, rather than an external situation or stimulant. She recognizes that it stems from the knowledge that she can now take care of herself in the wild. This sense of accomplishment contributes to a feeling of competence and security, allowing her to approach both her physical surroundings and her internal feelings and conflicts with more confidence and honesty.

“It was feeling a lot like school—little cliques, eyeing each other, taking notes, gossiping—until I decided I’d had enough of that trap. Instead of steering clear, I started invading the Coyote circle to hang out or help out. Brooke and Kelsey never did that, but you know what? That’s not who I want to be.”

Once Wren returns from her quest and advances to Elk, she consciously chooses to do things differently. Her breaking down of the invisible social hierarchy within camp is an indication of her inherent leadership abilities. Just as she did with Mo, she assumes responsibility for those she knows she can help, and she takes charge in a positive way.

“The other envelope is from Mom. I pull out the letter, unfold it, and turn the page over and over in my hand. It’s not in Lucida Handwriting. It’s in Mom font, with ink from a pen. Dear Wren, it starts. Love, Mom, it ends.”

Wren finally receives a handwritten letter from her mother, and it deeply moves her. Letters are a recurring motif in the book, and they appear during key points in her journey of healing. The handwritten letter from her mother contrasts with the detached tone of the earlier typed ones, and Wren’s joy is a sign of healing between mother and daughter.