Notes from Field and Study 



38s 



for them. — Lucy B. Stone, Columbus, 

 Ohio. 



A Study in Wren Psychology 



I do not remember how the teapot 

 happened to break in such a peculiar way. 

 It was a globular china teapot, about four 

 inches high, and it somehow acquired a 

 hole an inch across in its side. That 

 spoiled it for a teapot, and someone stuck 

 it up on a joist under the eaves of our 

 upper-deck sleeping-porch, to tempt the 

 Wrens. 



In a few days, Mr. and Mrs. Wren 

 arrived to inspect the premises. They 

 tested the little hole in the side of the tea- 

 pot by going in and out about fifty times. 

 At least Mr. Wren did, arguing vociferously 

 all the time. He seemed to think it an 

 ideal house. But Mrs. Wren sat by look- 

 ing dubious. She must have known it was 

 too small to hold the necessary furnishings 

 of a Wren's home, but she consented to go 

 in once or twice. 



After a week or so of discussion, they 

 began bringing sticks. But the sticks 

 were too long and stout, they could not be 

 fitted in, and were generally tossed aside 

 after several attempts. The porch floor 

 became quite strewn with them. Soon the 

 little couple gave up trying to make a nest 

 in the tempting teapot, but all summer 

 long they would visit it from time to time 

 and talk it over. They seemed fascinated 

 by this ideal little house, just too small for 

 a real one. 



The next year it was the same thing 

 over again. With the spring, back came 

 the pair of Wrens and tested and dis- 

 cussed the teapot. This season they 

 actually went the length of filling it with 

 sticks and laying two or three eggs in it. 

 Then, one day, we found the sticks and 

 eggs thrown out on the floor, and the 

 Wrens gone. We never knew what caused 

 the trouble, but suspected that the mother 

 Wren had found the quarters too close for 

 sitting and had torn out the nest in anger, 

 or that the eggs had rolled out themselves. 

 But it might have been a Bluejay. At any 

 rate, there wfis fin end of the teapot nest. 



We meant to take it away, but neglected 

 to do so. 



This spring, to our surprise, the Wrens 

 were back again looking at the teapot. 

 There was not so much noisy discussion 

 and argument as before, but nearly every 

 morning they would come to the porch and 

 take turns going in and out of the little 

 hole. Then Mr. Wren would fly to the 

 neighboring oak tree and sing paeans of 

 praise, while Mrs. Wren hopped about on 

 the rafters. 



One day I saw one of the birds coming 

 in with a tiny stick, ever so much smaller 

 than the twigs Wrens usually use for their 

 nests. Then another was brought and 

 another, slender twigs, bits of roots and 

 feathers. Not a piece stouter than a match 

 went in, as we found from examination of 

 the nest afterward. This kept up for several 

 days, amid much singing. Sometimes Mr. 

 Wren would dash up with a feather or 

 straw in his bill, but, before placing it, 

 would fly to the tree and sing his song of 

 triumph, which usually resulted in drop- 

 ping the feather on the ground. Still we 

 thought it only play, and did not believe 

 that a real nest was being made in the tea- 

 pot, until one day we found it full of 

 squeaking little birds, clamoring for the 

 bugs their busy parents were bringing 

 them. 



Perhaps someone will say that these 

 Wrens who so cleverly adapted their style 

 of building to the small size of the teapot 

 were not the same Wrens who had made 

 the previous unsuccessful attempts. All 

 I can say is that they looked the same and 

 acted the same and, if they were the same, 

 they certainly showed that birds can learn, 

 rather slowly to be sure, by experience. — 

 Makgaret L. Sewall, Forest Glen, Md. 



Prothonotary Warbler in Massachusetts 



A singing Prothonotary Warbler was 

 seen in Sudbury, Mass., May 13, 1915, by 

 Mrs. F. A. Wheeler, S. R. Slevern, and F. 

 K. Freeborn. 



On May 13, 1908, one was seen in the 

 same place by the same people. We have 

 looked every year since for him, and 



