36 A-BIRDING ON A BRONCO. 



with food the big throat blocked the way for the 

 little ones down behind. Sometimes I could see 

 a flutter of small wings and tails when the birds 

 were being fed. 



As nothing happened, I went off to watch an- 

 other nest, but in an hour was back to make sure 

 of seeing the small wrens when they left the 

 nest. A loud continuous scolding met me on ap- 

 proaching, and one of the old wrens, with bill full 

 of insects, flew — not up to the nest — but down 

 in among the weeds ! In less than an hour that 

 whole brood of wrens had flown, and were three 

 or four rods away in the high weeds — safe! I 

 was taken aback. They had stolen a march on 

 me. Surely I had not been treated as was fit 

 and proper, being one of the family ! 



It was amusing to see the young ones fly. They 

 whirled away on their wings as if they had been 

 flitting around in the big world always ; but their 

 stubby tails sadly interfered with their progress, 

 and they came to earth before they meant. 



Weak cries came from the young hidden ij^the 

 weeds. They could fly, but it was different from 

 being safe inside -a tree trunk ! I hardly recog- 

 nized their weak appealing voices, after the sten- 

 torian tones that had issued from the old nest. 



The weeds were a most admirable cover, and 

 the dead stalks sticking up through them served 

 as sentry posts, from which the old birds scolded 

 me when I followed too close on their heels. The 



