4© Birds Every Child Should Know 



then drops into the grasses which engulf her as 

 surely as if she had dropped into the sea. You 

 may search in vain to find her now. Like the 

 rails, she has her paths and runways among the 

 tall sedges and cat-tails, where not even a boy 

 in rubber boots may safely follow. 



But she does not live alone. Withdraw, sit 

 down quietly for awhile and wait for the ex- 

 citement of your visit to subside; for every 

 member of the wren colony, peering sharply at 

 you through the grasses, was watching you 

 long before you saw the first wren. Presently 

 you hear a rippling, bubbling song from one of 

 her neighbours ; then another and another and 

 still another from among the cat-tails which, 

 you now suspect, conceal many musicians. 

 The song goes off like a small explosion of mel- 

 ody whose force often carries the tiny singer up 

 into the air. One explosion follows another, 

 and between them there is much wren talk — a 

 scolding chatter that is as great a relief to the 

 birds' nervous energy as the exhaust from its 

 safety valve is to a steam engine. The rising 

 of a red-winged blackbird from his home in the 

 sedges, the rattle of the kingfisher on his way 

 up the creek, or the leisurely flapping of a 

 bittern over the marshes is enough to start the 

 chattering chorus. 



Why are the birds so excited? This is their 

 nesting season. May, and really they are too 



