288 LAND BIRDS 
Western Winter Wren, and I knew that within half a 
mile must be his nest. I walked to the edge of the 
brook, and after travelling a short distance along it, the 
way was blocked by a giant fir that, in falling years 
before, had split in the middle. From deep in this 
split appeared suspicious looking twigs, but past expe- 
rience had taught me not to expect the real nest 
within a hundred yards of a singing Winter Wren. Nor 
was I mistaken, for it proved to be nothing more than a 
well-built decoy, about which the bird had made a very 
natural ‘bluff’ of anxiety. . . . I continued up the 
brook, finding two more decoy nests of the Wrens in the 
roots of fallen trees. . . . A half-uprooted fir tree, some 
two hundred yards from where the Wren was heard 
singing, gave me a thrill of interest. The opening under 
the roots extended in about ten feet, and was only three 
feet high at the entrance, so there was nothing for 
it but to imitate the serpent. The Wren had left me 
long since, and nothing stirred when I shook the roots, 
therefore my hopes were high, as these Wrens are never 
seen near their eggs. After crawling in as far as pos- 
sible, I turned over on my back and waited for my eyes 
to become accustomed to the darkness. As_ things 
gradually took shape, almost the first thing I saw was 
the much-hoped-for nest, all of twigs and green moss, 
directly over my head. It was wedged in among the 
earth and roots, and a feather protruding from the 
entrance told me that my search had revealed a satis- 
factory end — the decoy nests are never lined. The set 
consisted of six partially incubated eggs, and only one 
