30 A-BIRDING ON A BRONCO. 



own satisfaction at least. His name was Moun- 

 tain Billy, and in the days when he had been a 

 wayward bucking mustang he lived in the Sierra. 

 Now, even in the hills surrounding our valley, 

 colts were killed by mountain lions. How much 

 more in the Sierra. Mountain lions are large 

 fawn-colored animals : that was it : Mountain 

 Billy was suffering from an acute attack of asso- 

 ciation of ideas. The sight of the deer had awak- 

 ened memories of the nightmare of his colthood 

 days. 



We made frequent visits to the wren tree, and 

 both my nervous little horse and I had a start one 

 morning, for as we rode in, a covey of quail flew up 

 with a whirr from under the tree in front of us. 



When the wren had become reconciled to us 

 she worked rapidly, flying back and forth with 

 material, followed by her mate, who sang while she 

 was on the nest and chased away with her after- 

 wards. Often when she appeared in the doorway 

 ready to go, his song, which had been just a merry 

 round before, at sight of her would suddenly 

 change to a most ecstatic love song. He would 

 sit with drooping tail, his wings sometimes shak- 

 ing at his sides, at others raised till they almost 

 met over his back, trembling with the excitement 

 of his joy. This peculiar tremulous motion of the 

 wings was marked in both wrens ; their emotions 

 seemed too large for their small bodies. 



I found the wrens building, the last of April. 



