CHAPTER XIV 



THE WILLOW -WREN 



Some time in the second week in April, when the willows 

 in the carr are breaking into new life, if you chance to pass 

 that way in the soft diffused light when the tall and slim 

 saplings shine softly brown or green, you may hear the soft 

 sweet song of the willow-wren ; and if you look up amongst 

 the slim leaf-blades, you may see the little greenish bird, just 

 arrived from Africa, running about the mossy bark feeding 

 on the flies and " little millers " (a small white moth) he came 

 all that long journey to find. He is not shy, and if you do 

 not make too much noise breaking through the close coverts, 

 he will go on unconcernedly feeding, working all over the 

 tree, hopping from branch to branch at times, resembling a 

 reed-warbler in form as he flits to a dark corner amongst 

 the green boughs, or again feeding like the wren or saucy 

 " pick-cheese." You may see him better, perhaps, as he 

 flits to and fro seeking " green-fly " under the leaves of 

 sycamore trees, or darting at the caterpillars that hang by 

 silken threads from the tree-branches, especially when he 

 has young in his oven — for his nest is just like an oven ; 

 hence he is called the " oven-bird " in the fenlands. 



All through April you may hear his sweet song, and in 

 May he begins to build on the ground in a planting at the 

 foot of a willow, or in a clump of nettles beneath a bramble- 

 islet, or by some grassy dike-side where he scoops a hole 

 and roofs it over, or beneath the iv}^ in a hedgerow. I have 

 seen the nest in all these places. The oven is built of moss, 

 grass, mud, hair, and a good warm lining of feathers, upon 



