Brief Summary… 

• Recycled 70 year old Jenny Wren Farthing 
• Meticulously hand-cut 1956 Farthing
• Made using only traditional hand tools and techniques
• Optional Chain: Sterling Silver. Recommend : Finesse / Flourish 
• Hairy Growler Shepherd’s Crook Necklace Catch: Sterling Silver
• Size : 20mm diameter
• Symbolism: Bird of Kings, luck, happiness, and Kingship!
• Handcrafted & Recycled in Cambridge

 

A little more detail…

The Last Wren

A 1956 Wren Farthing Necklace for a 70th Birthday

Some birthday years give us something rather special to work with.

1956 is one of them.

For someone celebrating their 70th birthday in 2026, I can make this necklace from an original British farthing struck in the year they were born.

But this is not simply another birth-year coin.

1956 was the final year Britain ever minted the farthing.

And sitting at the centre of that last little coin was one of Britain’s smallest and most characterful birds.

The wren.

So for this piece I take an original 1956 farthing and carefully remove the background around the bird, allowing Harold Wilson Parker’s wonderful little wren to remain within the original coin.

The date remains above it.

The word FARTHING remains below.

The old beaded edge remains around it.

And the little bird that has been sitting inside the coin for seventy years is finally released into the light.

1956: The Last Farthing

There is something wonderfully fitting about using a 1956 farthing for a 70th birthday.

The person receiving it was born in 1956.

The coin was made in 1956.

And for the British farthing, 1956 was the end of an era.

It was the final year the denomination was minted.

No 1957 farthing followed it.

After centuries as part of British currency, the tiny quarter-penny was approaching the end of its story.

This little coin stands at the closing of that chapter.

A Scarcer Little Coin

The 1956 farthing is particularly interesting because relatively few were produced compared with many earlier years.

Only 1,996,800 were struck in 1956.

That might sound like a large number until you compare it with the tens of millions produced in some earlier years.

And these coins were never made to become keepsakes.

They were money.

They were spent.

Lost.

Worn.

Put into drawers.

Thrown into old tins.

Forgotten.

Some disappeared completely.

Others survived.

Seventy years later, one of those survivors can become something worth keeping all over again.

The Wren

There could hardly have been a more charming bird to place on Britain’s smallest-value coin.

The wren is tiny.

Round.

Restless.

Fiercely alive.

It moves through hedges and undergrowth like a little scrap of woodland suddenly given wings.

And despite its size, the wren has accumulated an extraordinary amount of folklore.

In old European traditions it was sometimes described as the king of the birds, a tiny creature associated with cleverness, resilience and a significance far greater than its physical size might suggest.

That makes the wren rather appropriate for a farthing.

One of Britain’s smallest birds on one of Britain’s smallest coins.

Neither needed to be large to become memorable.

The Bird Was Already There

This is one of those Hairy Growler pieces where I cannot really claim to have designed the most important part.

The wren was already there.

It had been sitting inside the coin since 1956.

My job is to find it.

I carefully pierce away the bronze surrounding the original bird while preserving as much of the character of the old farthing as possible.

The result is something rather different from engraving a bird onto a blank disc.

This is the actual wren from the original 1956 coin, still standing inside its original rim.

I have simply opened the space around it.

The Date Stays

Above the bird sits the most important detail of all.

1956.

I do not engrave the birthday year onto the pendant afterwards.

It was struck into the coin seventy years ago.

That distinction matters.

This is not jewellery made today and decorated with someone’s birth year.

It is an object that actually comes from their birth year.

The metal was already here.

The wren was already there.

The date was already there.

For seventy years, the coin and its future owner have been travelling through history together.

Two Seventy-Year Journeys

I think this is what makes birth-year jewellery so fascinating.

Imagine 1956.

Somewhere, a child is born.

Elsewhere, a little bronze farthing leaves the Royal Mint.

Neither has any idea the other exists.

The child grows.

The coin circulates.

One passes through schooldays, friendships, work, love, family and all the countless ordinary moments that eventually become a life.

The other passes through pockets, purses, shop counters and tills.

Then the farthing disappears from everyday British life.

The child carries on.

Seventy years later, somehow, their two stories meet.

A person born in 1956 receives a little coin that has travelled all the way from 1956 to find them.

From Currency to Jewellery

I do not melt the farthing down.

That would destroy almost everything that makes it special.

Instead, I work within the original coin.

Tiny entry holes are drilled into the bronze.

A very fine jeweller’s saw blade is threaded through those openings.

Then the background surrounding the wren is carefully removed.

One tiny section at a time.

The coin begins to open.

Light appears around the bird.

The original wren becomes the centre of a new piece of jewellery.

The bird is not added to the coin. It is released from it.

Keeping the Words

I deliberately retain the word FARTHING beneath the bird.

Without it, this could simply become another little bird pendant.

With it, the history remains visible.

You can still understand what the object once was.

The date tells you when.

The word tells you what.

The wren tells you the rest.

1956. FARTHING. WREN.

Three small details that immediately place the piece in British history.

Seventy Years of Character

I do not expect a seventy-year-old coin to look new.

Quite the opposite.

A genuine old farthing may carry scratches.

Softened lettering.

Tiny knocks around its edge.

Darkened areas of bronze.

Surfaces polished smooth by hands we will never know.

I preserve that history wherever possible.

Every 1956 farthing has travelled differently, so every finished necklace will have its own character.

I make the jewellery. Seventy years made the surface.

A Little Oak Leaf

Alongside the farthing hangs a small oak leaf.

It brings another piece of the British landscape into the necklace.

The wren belongs among hedges, woodland and tangled undergrowth.

The oak belongs to a different scale of time altogether.

Strength.

Endurance.

Roots.

Growth.

And the extraordinary ability to continue through season after season.

For a 70th birthday, I think those two symbols sit rather beautifully together.

The little wren and the enduring oak.

Made Slowly at the Hairy Growler Bench

Each Last Wren necklace begins with a genuine 1956 farthing.

Because the coin itself is important, the process cannot be rushed.

The original design has to survive.

The date has to remain.

The lettering has to remain.

The tiny legs and fine details of the bird have to remain connected securely within the old coin.

After the saw piercing is complete, the wren is carefully refined and given additional hand-worked detail.

The surfaces are finished while allowing the old bronze to retain the depth and character of its age.

The farthing is then combined with silver fittings and the little oak leaf to create the finished necklace.

Old coin, traditional tools, human hands.

More Than a 70th Birthday Present

There are plenty of things you can buy someone with the number 70 written on them.

This is something slightly different.

Its connection with the birthday is hidden in plain sight.

1956.

The year is not there because somebody added it for the occasion.

It is there because the object itself has already survived seventy years.

That makes the necklace less about someone’s age and more about their journey.

Seventy years of life.

Seventy years of stories.

Seventy years since both person and penny-sized coin entered the world.

And neither journey is finished yet.

A Small Piece of Vanished Britain

The farthing eventually disappeared from British pockets altogether.

It ceased to be legal tender at the end of 1960.

For younger generations, it belongs to another Britain.

Pre-decimal money.

Old shop counters.

Pounds, shillings and pence.

A monetary system that now feels almost impossibly distant.

But the coin remains.

And on this one, the little wren remains too.

Not reproduced. Not copied. The original bird on the original coin.

Product Details

• Handcrafted Hairy Growler 70th birthday wren necklace
• Made from an original 1956 British farthing
• 1956 was the final year the British farthing was minted
• Only 1,996,800 farthings were struck in 1956
• Original Harold Wilson Parker wren design retained within the pendant
• Original 1956 date retained above the wren
• Original FARTHING lettering retained beneath the bird
• Original beaded coin rim retained
• Farthing approximately 20mm diameter before hand piercing
• Original coin made from bronze
• Traditionally pierced by hand using a fine jeweller’s saw
• Wren individually refined and detailed by hand
• Historic wear and patina retained where appropriate
• Each necklace is individually handcrafted at the Hairy Growler bench
• Every surviving 1956 farthing carries different marks from its previous life, making each finished piece unique

The Last Wren

There is something wonderfully poetic about the date.

1956.

A child begins a life.

A little farthing leaves the Mint.

And Britain makes its final wren.

Seventy years pass.

The farthing is no longer money.

The child is no longer a child.

But both are still here.

One arrives at my bench.

I thread a tiny saw through the old bronze.

The background falls away.

And after seventy years inside the coin, the little wren finds open sky.

The Last Wren.

Born in 1956. Still here. Still carrying a story.