92 American Birds 



as a Vigors Wren {Thryomanes bewickii spilurus). 

 But I hardly had time to see just what the small white par- 

 cel was, she carried in her mouth. It may have been a 

 white miller, soon to be thrust down a gaping throat, but 

 this little brown bird was too wise to show me her home. 



The next day, however, I stole a march, and was well 

 hidden in the bushes near where I thought the nest must 

 be, when the wren appeared. I hardly expected to escape 

 that sharp round eye, and was prepared for the scolding 

 that followed ; in fact, I took it cheerfully, without a word 

 in reply. In her bill she held a strip of snake-skin. Rather 

 an uncanny mouthful, to be sure. She fidgeted about with 

 her tail over her back, and then whirled away to a large 

 upturned root covered with vines. Here she hopped about 

 in the tangle of brier and fern, apparently forgetful of 

 my presence; but those sharp brown eyes, behind which 

 are generations of care and cunning gained in contact with 

 nature, are never heedless. Her action would have de- 

 ceived any other creature, but I knew her too well; at the 

 likeliest moment, and in an eye's twinkling, she suddenly 

 popped up into the dead body of an alder tree and disap- 

 peared into a tiny round hole. 



Wrens have traditions, and, like some people, are per- 

 haps slightly superstitious. I was not sure that a Vigors 

 wren thought there had to be a bit of snake-skin in her 

 home, but I do not remember ever examining the nest of 

 her cousin, the Parkman wren, without finding it. May- 

 be it is for protection, as it is said that a snake will not 

 venture where a scrap of its own skin is found. Years and 

 years ago the first wrens must have fought for themselves 

 among tribes of reptiles, and now the birds never think 



