94 WASTE-LAND WANDERINGS. 



bore any reference to the circumstances of their utter- 

 ance. In this I have failed. They are apparently 

 meaningless, and uttered at random ; mere series of ex- 

 clamations, as it were, and not always loudest or most 

 elaborate when the excitement is intense. 



It is noteworthy that at times, when all is serene, 

 many of these same wild cries are sweetly sung, and 

 would not be recognized if the bird were out of sight. 

 And, too, it must be borne in mind that this same wren 

 is greatly given to low chirpings and twitterings when 

 two or more are in company. 



I know of no species that more fully bears me out in 

 the distinctions I long ago drew between the singing 

 proper of birds and what may reasonably be called their 

 conversation. 



As late as August 29th I found a nest of this bird 

 in a novel position, in a miniature cave on the hill-side. 

 The whole interior was beautifully lined with inter- 

 woven grass and twigs. The nest was perfectly dry, 

 and safe from flooding during ordinary summer show- 

 ers. This was a discovery in local ornithology, for I 

 find no record of a like occurrence. I thought at the 

 time that possibly some unusual circumstance led to the 

 spot being chosen, and that I would never find another 

 such nest ; but it really is a habit of the species to build 

 in such localities. 



To-day, on the same hill-side, down which I was hur- 

 rying, I found another of these " cave dwellings." It 

 was, I am positive, an artificial excavation, and the same 

 care had been exercised to make the walls secure. The 

 entrance was covered with rough twigs and bits of lich- 



