36 A-BIRDING ON A BRONCO. 



with food the big throat blocked the way for the 

 little ones down behind. Sometimes I could see 

 a flutter of small wings and tails when the birds 

 were being fed. 



As nothing happened, I went off to watch an- 

 other nest, but in an hour was back to make sure 

 of seeing the small wrens when they left the 

 nest. A loud continuous scolding met me on ap- 

 proaching, and one of the old wrens, with bill full 

 of insects, flew not up to the nest but down 

 in among the weeds ! In less than an hour that 

 whole brood of wrens had flown, and were three 

 or four rods away in the high weeds safe ! I 

 was taken aback. They had stolen a march on 

 me. Surely I had not been treated as was fit 

 and proper, being one of the family ! 



It was amusing to see the young ones fly. They 

 whirled away on their wings as if they had been 

 flitting around in the big world always ; but their 

 stubby tails sadly interfered with their progress, 

 and they came to earth before they meant. 



Weak cries came from the young hidden in the 

 weeds. They could fly, but it was different from 

 being safe inside a tree trunk ! I hardly recog- 

 nized their weak appealing voices, after the sten- 

 torian tones that had issued from the old nest. 



The weeds were a mos^; admirable cover, and 

 the dead stalks sticking up through them served 

 as sentry posts, from which the old birds scolded 

 me when I followed too close on their heels. The 



