320 



THE WILLOW WREN. 



May and watch, they will show you their nests themselves, 

 without hiring boys to " slay the bird while incubating." They 

 prefer open woods or strips, with some whins or brushwood. 

 In my rambles I have got moss-formed domed nests, without 

 feathers or hair inside, amongst whins on the outskirts of 

 woods, about three feet from the ground, with a small entrance 

 hole near the top, and as I never got them with eggs or young, 

 I think the male may sometimes build a nest for himself near 

 where his mate is cosily incubating amongst the herbage ; for 

 travellers in Zululand tell of a pretty little brown bird called 

 the " watcher," which also makes its nest on the ground, 

 weaving it of soft grass, in two storeys. The male keeps watch 

 over the top of the grass from his seat on the upper storey, 

 while the hen sits on her eggs below. If he gives warning she 

 has time to get away. Snakes might eat the eggs, but a woven 

 door or screen hangs down in front and hides them. The three 

 willow-wrens have the same habit of hiding their nests amongst 

 the herbage. White gives an instance of this : — A willow wren 

 built her nest in a bank in his fields, which he used to visit. 

 One day, along with a friend, they went to see how she was 

 getting on, but no nest was to be found, until he " happened to 

 take up a large bundle of long green moss, as it were, carelessly 

 thrown over the nest in order to dodge the eye of an 

 impertinent intruder." The bird had seen them prying, and 

 had tried still more to conceal it ; yet they are not shy, for I 

 have stood near them when making their nests, and are so 

 easily tamed that in three days after being confined in a cage if 

 let out will fly about the room and at once catch the flies, and 

 if a fly is held up it will flutter and take it out of the hand. 

 In his "Eggs of British Birds," Mr Hewitson says: — "To 

 make certain of the eggs figured I captured several of the birds 

 on their nests. I carried one home, and kept it in a large box 

 all night, and such was its tameness, that when I took it out in 

 the morning it had no wish to leave my hand, and hopped about 

 the table at which I was sitting, picking up the flies I caught 

 for it." Dr Liverpool also says that " three or four in his 

 aviary entirely lost their natural shyness after he had them a 

 month, and were the most amusing little pets he ever had." And 

 Mr Sweet, in his "British Warblers," says : — " One I caught in 

 September was, in three days after, let out of its aviary into the 

 room to catch flies, so numerous at that season. After amusing 

 itself for some time, it began to sing, and in a few days sang in 

 its aviary." When heard in the calm stillness of a wood, its 



