COCK WRENS' NESTS 



undergrowth, which yielded a number of thin, 

 tough, dead yew-twigs, some three inches in 

 length ; these, as pliable as the withy the wood- 

 man binds his bavins with, the bird has used for 

 making the entrance of the nest compact and firm. 

 I watched him fetch one or two from the stems 

 just below the nest. Across the lip of the entrance, 

 a twig of the yew tree stretches at right angles to 

 the nest a convenient perch on to which the bird 

 hops each time he enters or leaves the nest. In 

 the building, too, this twig serves as a scaffolding. 



The foundations of the nest are withering but 

 still stiff ivy leaves, piled or packed up roughly. 

 Then, for the sides of the nest, come rotted ivy 

 leaves. Finally, on the roof, more of the stiff 

 leaves. If the wren were really at pains to hide his 

 nest I am not sure he was he gave away its 

 position by his movements and his vivacity. After 

 adding a scrap of moss or a twig, he will often come 

 just outside and bubble over into song. He is 

 constantly on the spot, scolding one moment, sing- 

 ing the next. He sings a dozen ditties (always the 

 same ditty) in as many minutes ; feeding, he sings 

 between the very pecks ; he even sings sometimes 

 in the air, as he darts from tree to tree. As for 

 his scolding or protesting way, nothing aggravates 

 him more than a jackdaw or a rook. Various small 

 birds during the nesting season resent the approach 

 of a single rook, though a flock passing by or 

 settling to feed in a field close by does not disturb 

 them. The wren jars with anger, the compass of 



