The Laughing Willow-Wren and 

 the Chirping Chiff-chaff 



WE never go into our garden in summer, across the 

 fields and into the woods, without hearing the sweet, 

 delicate little song of the willow- wrens. We hear them 

 the whole day through, singing in the tree-tops on 

 every side ; and each summer we find a number of 

 their beautiful little domed nests, cunningly concealed 

 on the ground. Yet it is strange how few people in 

 the country pay heed to the willow- wren's anthems. 



They are elegant, yellowish-green birds, some five 

 inches in length, seen in gardens, meadows, and 

 woods, and fond of stream-sides, but though called the 

 wrens of the willows, are as fond of other trees. The 

 old name, " hay-bird," suited them better, perhaps, 

 as where there are hayfields there are willow- wrens. 

 They are so abundant in some seasons in their favourite 

 haunts as to seem almost the most abundant of all 

 summer visitors. 



Early in April the willow-wrens arrive from over- 

 seas. You may never mistake their song if you 

 remember that it is a cadence, short and very sweet, 

 running down the scale, the first notes prolonged, the 

 remainder gradually becoming shorter as they fall. 

 The note is spelt " twee," repeated ten times or more. 

 They are like little chime-ringers, ringing eternal 



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