FIELD AND STUDY 



into them and criticize his conduct. He is sly and 

 meddlesome, and a disturber of the peace. He has 

 the manners of a blackguard and the habits of a 

 thief and a despoiler. His throat and tongue are 

 brass, and his song is as harsh as the dry twigs he 

 makes his nest of. I ask you to join me in putting 

 him down.*' His audience listened and looked on 

 with interest, I will not say with amusement. The 

 humor of the situation probably appealed to me 

 alone. The birds were only anxious to find out if a 

 possible common danger threatened them all. But 

 to me the situation had an element of comedy in it, 

 and made me laugh in spite of myself. 



Again the bluebird essayed to look into that 

 hole, and as quick as a flash the wren was on his 

 back. Whether or not he used his sharp beak, I 

 could not tell, as the assailed turned upon his assail- 

 ant so quickly — but not quick enough to get in a 

 counter-stroke. The vines and bushes were again a 

 house of safety for the wren. Three or four times the 

 bluebird asserted his natural right to look into any 

 hole or cavity he had a mind to, and each time the 

 wren denied that right in the way I have described. 

 But such jangles among the birds are usually brief. 

 One by one the spectators flew away; and finally the 

 chief actor in the little drama flew away, and the 

 wren warbled in a strain of triumph. 



The next day I discovered that the wren had only 

 begun building a nest in the box, probably a cock 



82 



