The Marsh Wren 39 



others. In addition to his ringing, whistled 

 notes, he can make other sounds peculiarly his 

 own: trills and quavers, scolding cacks, rat- 

 tling kringggs, something like the tree toad's, be- 

 sides the joyful, lyrical melody that has given 

 him his reputation as a musician. Even these do 

 not complete his repertoire. To deliver his fam- 

 ous song, he chooses a conspicuous position in 

 the top of some bush or low tree; then, with 

 head uplifted and tail drooping — a favourite 

 posture of all these lively singers — he makes 

 us very glad indeed that we heard him. Hap- 

 pily he sings almost as many months in the 

 year as the most cheerful bird we have, the 

 song sparrow. 



THE MARSH WREN 



Hidden among the tall grasses and reeds along 

 the creeks and rivers, lives the long-billed marsh 

 wren, a nervous, active little creature that you 

 know at a glance. With tail cocked up and 

 even tilted forward toward her head in the ex- 

 treme of wren fashion, or suddenly jerked 

 downward to help keep her balance, she sways 

 with the grass as it blows in the wind — a dainty 

 little sprite. With no desire to make your 

 acquaintance, she flies with a short, jerky motion 

 (because of her short wings) a few rods away, 



