106 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME. 



numbers, braves our winters, and from the tops of the 

 loftier pines chirps merrily while the snow-flakes fill the 

 air, though later in the winter it seeks shelter in protected 

 nooks where the noonday sun has melted the snow and 

 given us a breath of spring-like air. In several such spots, 

 since February, 1863, when I shot the first winter speci- 

 men, I have not failed to find several individuals of this 

 species during each of the winter months; and there 

 seems to be a steady increase in the number of them that 

 thus remain. The same remarks will apply, in part, to 

 that beautiful but not well-known songster, Bewick's 

 wren. They too, in scanty numbers, congregate in shel- 

 tered places, and even during the gloomiest of November 

 days one may often hear the clear notes of this lively 

 bird as it sits, braving a chilly westerly wind, perched on 

 the topmost twig of some leafless tree. 



A more marked instance than any, perhaps, is that of 

 the great Carolina wren. In the " History of North 

 American Birds," by Baird, Brewer, and Ridgway, it is 

 stated that this wren " occasionally has been found as far 

 north as Philadelphia," and that it is essentially a south- 

 ern species. Although Audubon found it breeding in 

 New Jersey fully fifty years ago, the probabilities are 

 that, until recently, it was essentially a rare visitant to 

 this locality. At the present time, however, this is far 

 from being true, as it is really, in many localities, taking 

 the place of the commoner house-wren. Neither is it 

 "studious of concealment, and shy and retiring in its 

 habits," but, on the contrary, it builds its nests in our 

 out-buildings wherever a suitable locality offers, however 

 much frequented the building may be. So tame, too, 

 are they at such times, that it needs but little dexterity 

 to capture them with the hand while they are sitting on 

 the nest. They usually raise three broods, and are yearly 



