All communications for this department 

 should be sent to the Department Editor, 

 Air. Harry G. Higbee, 13 Austin Street, 

 Hyde Park, Massashusetts. Items, articles 

 and photographs in this department not 

 otherwise credited are by the Department 

 Editor. 



Making a Nest for a Wren. 



BY MISS HATTIE REYNOLDS, UPPER FALLS, 

 MARYLAND. 



Once there was a wren that had the 

 odd but appropriate name of "Bubbles," 

 because he seemed to be the incarna- 

 tion of overflowing joy and irrepres- 

 sible song, like the rainbow-hued bub- 

 bles that arise from a spring of fast 

 flowing water to sparkle in the sun- 

 shine. There is such a spring. It is 

 called Rock Creek and is the admiration 

 of two counties. A small river of the 

 same name flows from it. The water 

 rushes forth like a fountain from a 

 crevice in a rock under a majestic tulip 

 tree. It tumbles down the steep hill- 

 side with five hundred gallons of water 

 a day- in a little waterfall full of bub- 

 bles and wreaths of foam, and goes 

 leaping and sparkling to hide itself 

 among the ferns and the wild flowers. 

 It is like a merry child running out of 

 a dark schoolroom into the beautiful 

 playhouse of out of doors — joyous, 

 noisy, free. So Bubbles sings when he 

 comes back in the spring, and every 

 one stops to listen. He is so delighted 

 to pour out that charming solo of his— 

 the spring love song — that he can 

 scarcely stop to eat. 



Fortunately little lady wren is more 

 practical and sensible. After listening 

 patiently to her musical husband, she 

 goes poking about in crannies and 

 holes to find a place in which to build 

 a nest. 



What do you think those two silly 

 ones selected? A tomato can on a 

 ledge in an outhouse. They crammed 

 it full of sticks, a quart of sticks, with 



no room for the nest as the sticks 

 seemed to go in endways. I found a 

 small wooden box about eieht inches, 

 each way and emptied the sticks in it. 

 arranging them with my awkward 

 hands into the form of a nest- When 

 the pair returned, they seemed to be 

 surprised and flew about complaining 

 and looking for the can that I had left 

 on the ledge. The next morning there 

 were some sticks in it again, so I took 

 it away. Then they built in the box. 

 Did they know those sticks over which 

 they had worked so hard? What 

 thoughts were in their minds when 

 they made the delicate part of the nest 

 that no hand of man has been able to 

 build? There they raised four little 

 ones that fortunately got away with- 

 out being destroyed by the cat, that 

 arch enemy of bird life. 



A Quail's Nest Under a Beehive. 



Atlantic, Iowa. 



To the Editor: 

 I enclose a photograph of a quail's 





■' HI , 



' Qik 



THE QUAIL NEST UNDER THE BEEHIVE. 



nest under a beehive that I took when 

 visiting the queen breeding apiary of 

 Mr. Ben G- Davis at Spring Hill, Ten- 



