288 LAND BIRDS 



Western Winter Wren, and I knew that within half a 

 mile must be his nest. I walked to the edge of the 

 brook, and after travelling a short distance along it, the 

 way was blocked by a giant fir that, in falling years 

 before, had split in the middle. From deep in this 

 split appeared suspicious looking twigs, but past expe- 

 rience had taught me not to expect the real nest 

 within a hundred yards of a singing Winter Wren. Nor 

 was I mistaken, for it proved to be nothing more than a 

 well-built decoy, about which the bird had made a very 

 natural * bluff' of anxiety. ... I continued up the 

 brook, finding two more decoy nests of the Wrens in the 

 roots of fallen trees. ... A half-uprooted fir tree, some 

 two hundred yards from where the Wren was heard 

 singing, gave me a thrill of interest. The opening under 

 the roots extended in about ten feet, and was only three 

 feet high at the entrance, so there was nothing for 

 it but to imitate the serpent. The Wren had left me 

 long since, and nothing stirred when I shook the roots, 

 therefore my hopes were high, as these Wrens are never 

 seen near their eggs. After crawling in as far as pos- 

 sible, I turned over on my back and waited for my eyes 

 to become accustomed to the darkness. As things 

 gradually took shape, almost the first thing I saw was 

 the much-hoped-for nest, all of twigs and green moss, 

 directly over my head. It was wedged in among the 

 earth and roots, and a feather protruding from the 

 entrance told me that my search had revealed a satis- 

 factory end — the decoy nests are never lined. The set 

 consisted of six partially incubated eggs, and only one 



