FUSS AND FEATHERS 



packed full of twigs. I had often seen the bird 

 enter it and disappear for some moments, but my 

 finger found no vacant space. Then one day I saw 

 the female enter it, much to the joy and loud ac- 

 claim of her mate. I finally saw her carry in fine 

 spears of dry grass. To clear up the mystery I 

 took off the top of the box, and found that there 

 was barely room enough between its top and the 

 twigs for a body the size of my finger to squeeze 

 in, and enter a small, deep pocket in one corner 

 which the cock had cunningly arranged. He had 

 made sure that no bird larger than a wren — no 

 usurping bluebird nor meddling English sparrow — 

 could gain entrance, and as for inquisitive wrens, 

 he could meet them at an advantage. Then I ex- 

 amined the lower box, where the young were, which 

 had an opening large enough for a high-hole, or a 

 great crested flycatcher, and found that the fore- 

 sighted little creatures had used the same tactics 

 here; they had built a barricade of twigs in front 

 of the nest, which was in one corner, and which 

 could be entered by the wrens only by a close 

 squeeze. Artful little people, I said, living joyous 

 and intensive lives, and as full of character and 

 spirit as an egg is full of meat. 



This little bird loves to be near your house, but 

 give it a chance and it will come inside of it and nest 

 in the room you occupy. I knew of a pair that came 

 through a screen door left ajar, into a room on the 



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