ST. HELENA WAXBILL 



CHAPTER IX 

 GOLDEN-CRESTED WRENS AND TITMICE 



" Dainty and delightful creatures in all their ways, voice only 

 dubi table, but I hope not a shriek or a squeak." 



A I" experience that I had in rearing the tiniest 

 of European birds was an interesting one. 

 Wandering one bright June day amongst 

 the wilder parts of a Buckinghamshire garden, where 

 for centuries the birds have sung, and built their nests, 

 and died, I found myself beneath the overhanging 

 boughs of an old yew tree. 



Happening to look upwards, immediately above 



my head I caught sight of a wee cup-nest hung on the 



under side of a branch, about eight feet from the ground. 



At the same moment that I saw it, there came the 



sharp mouse notes of a golden-crested wren, querulously 



squeaking in a nervous manner. 



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