A SWEET-VOICED WREN. 99 



More than once has he led me a chase among 

 the houses of my neighbors, flitting from tree to 

 tree, or from post to post, until I was ashamed to 

 continue my pursuit further lest my sanity should 

 be called in question. First, he would sing his 

 ditty in a maple near my residence ; but if I 

 approached, he would dart in a zigzag course across 

 the street, and when I hurried after, he was gone 

 again, and then I would hear him warbling beyond 

 a cluster of houses : " H-e-e-r-r-e I am ! H-e-e-r-e^ 

 Ji-e-e-r-e, sir!'' The blithe little tantalizer! Out 

 of pure admiration of his cunning ways, I have 

 often felt that I ought to catch him and give him 

 a vigorous love-tap. 



In the lyrical season he sang a great deal, and I 

 never tired of his roundels ; but, what is more, lie 

 did not desert me in midsummer when so many 

 birds are silent. Quite frequently he would break 

 into song on the sultriest days, and in my judg- 

 ment his lay was as bright and gleeful as ever. 

 My notes, taken last year, say that on the eleventh 

 of September my little friend gave me a pleasant 

 reminder of the fair springtime when he was so 

 lavish of his melody. 



It is surprising that a bird so shy should choose 

 a nesting place so near the dwellings of man. Still, 



