384 THRASHERS, WRENS, ETC. 



the species has much the same timbre as the call-note ; it resembles the 



syllables chap chap — chap-chap, chap chap-chap-chap-p-p-rrrr ; 



but during the height of the love season it vents its feelings in a much 

 more ambitious refrain, one which, while it is everywhere varied and in 

 parts very musical, is still conspicuous for the amount of chappering 

 that enters into its composition. While singing, it is usually seen 

 clinging to the side of some tall swaying reed with its tail bent for- 

 ward so far as almost to touch the head, thus exhibiting in an exag- 

 gerated manner a characteristic attitude of all the Wrens. 



This is less a species of the deep-water marshes than is the long- 

 billed member of the genus, and often it will be found in places 

 that are little more than damp meadows. It is remarkably mouselike 

 in its habits and movements, and can be flushed only with extreme 

 difficulty. Ernest E. Thompson. 



725. Cistothorus palustris ( Wils.). Long-billed Marsh Wken. 

 Ad. — Crown olive-brown, blacker on the sides, a white line over the eye; 



back black, streaked with white ; rump cin- 

 namon-brown; wings and tail barred; un- 

 der parts white ; sides washed with grayish 

 brown. L., 5-20 ; W., 1-95 ; T., 1-68 ; B., -52. 



Range. — Eastern North America; breeds 

 from the Gulf States to Manitoba and Massa- 

 chusetts ; winters from the Gulf States, and 



Fig. 112.-Lon^-billed Marsh ^^^^^^^ ^^^^^^ ^^»'t^' southward to Mexico. 

 Wren. (Natural size.) Washington, very numerous S. E., Apl. 



30 to Oct. 30. Sing Sing, common S. K., 

 May 10 to Oct. 28. Cambridge, locally abundant S. R., May 15 to Oct.; 

 sometimes a few winter. 



JSfest^ globular, the entrance at one side, of coarse grasses, reed stalks, etc., 

 lined with fine grasses, attached to reeds or bushes. Eggs^ five to nine, uni- 

 form, minutely speckled or thickly marked with cinnamon- or olive-brown, 

 •65 X -49. 



If you would make the acquaintance of this Marsh Wren, you have 

 only to visit his home in the cat-tails and tall, reedy grasses bordering 

 rivers, creeks, and sloughs. It will be unnecessary to announce your- 

 self ; he will know of your presence long before you know of his, and 

 from the inner chambers of his dwelling will proceed certain scolding, 

 caching notes before this nervous, excitable bit of feathered life ap- 

 pears on his threshold. With many flourishes of the tail and much 

 bobbing and attitudinizing, he inquires your business, but before you 

 have had time enough to inspect him he has darted back into his 

 damp retreats, and you can tell of his frequently changing position 

 only by his scolding, grumbling notes. 



All this time his neighbors — and he generally has numbers of 



