birds' eggs 69 



under the floor of the summer-house, into the 

 weeds — anywhere to hide his diminished head. 

 The bhiebird with his bright coat looked like 

 an officer in uniform in pursuit of some wicked, 

 rusty little street gamin. Generally the favor- 

 ite house of refuge of the wrens was the little 

 spruce, into which their pursuer made no 

 attempt to follow them. The female would sit 

 concealed amid the branches, chattering in a 

 scolding, fretful way, while the male with his 

 eye upon his tormentor would perch on the top- 

 most shoot and sing. Why he sang at such 

 times, whether in triumph and derision, or to 

 keep his courage up and reassure his mate, I 

 could not make out. When his song was sud- 

 denly cut short and I glanced to see him dart 

 down into the spruce, my eye usually caught 

 a twinkle of blue wings hovering near. The 

 wrens finally gave up the fight, and their ene- 

 mies reared their second brood in peace. 



That the wren should use such coarse, refrac- 

 tory materials, especially since it builds in holes 

 where twigs are so awkward to carry and ad- 

 just, is curious enough. All its congeners, the 

 marsh Avrens, the Carolina wren, the winter 

 wren, build of soft flexible materials. The 

 nest of the winter wren, and of the English 

 ''Jenny Wren," is mainly of moss, and is a 

 marvel of softness and warmth. 



One day a swarm of honey-bees went into 

 my chimney, and I mounted the stack to see 

 into which flue they had gone. As I craned 

 my neck above the sooty vent, with the bees 



