120 Golden-Crested Wrens 



In another moment the tiny bird flitted down 

 within a few feet of my face, peering at me with 

 beady eyes. She was quickly followed by her mate, in 

 whose beak was some small insect. 



Apparently he hadn't seen me until then, for he 

 hurriedly disappeared, leaving his wife to defend the 

 position ; and his sharp notes of alarm sounded out 

 from amongst the thicket close at hand. 



Standing perfectly still for a while, I was able to see 

 the pretty little hen bird as she boldly hopped about 

 and crept amongst the twigs. 



That there were young ones was evident, nor could 

 I resist putting my fingers into the nest to feel them. 

 There was a solid lump of tiny bodies, compressed 

 with timidity at this strange intrusion, and by reason of 

 the alarm notes of the parents. 



The bough under which the wee nest hung was 

 easily pulled downwards, but my doing so proved more 

 than the wrenlets could bear. 



They were all but ready to fly, but now, poor little 

 chaps, their flight was somewhat premature; for, with a 

 confused fluttering of tiny wings, out they all bundled, 

 helter-skelter, taking refuge amongst the undergrowth 

 and weeds of the ground. 



This tragedy and rout quite threw all timidity on 

 the parents' part to the winds, for they both came so 

 close to me in their endeavours to distract my attention 

 that I could have touched them had they kept still, 

 but golden-crested wrens, except when asleep, are 

 never so. 



To try and find some of the little ones was my 



