CHAPTER XXIV 

 THE WREN 



THE tomtit, as the Broadsmen call this pert, childlike little 

 bird, always brings an affectionate smile to your face as you 

 see his hopping, plump little body flitting over the bank, or 

 running along the branches of a leafless tree, stopping every 

 now and then to sing his loud-voiced song ; for, though his 

 is a little body, he has a mighty and pleasant song. 



And very early in the year, before the winter snows have 

 melted, you may see him courting, singing loudly from some 

 tree or bush, flying up in joy some ten yards into the pure 

 air, singing as he flies, then descending prettily to his perch 

 like a plump moth or butterfly. 



And no sooner has he taken unto himself his little wife 

 (generally early in April) than he begins to construct those 

 mysterious cock's-nests, in some leafless, gnarled thorn-bush, 

 some old wall, heap of faggots, reed-thatched shed, bank, or 

 ivy-covered elm for all these places are dear to him for 

 nesting, though at times stranger sites are chosen. The 

 most beautiful nest I ever saw was placed amongst some 

 yellow reed-stalks growing in a pulk in the heart of a 

 coppice abutting on one of the Broads. And a lovely little 

 picture the green mossy nest made, as it lodged without 

 fastenings amongst the amber reed-stalks, so softly lighted 

 beneath the budding greenery of the planting. 



And when the mossy nest, horse-hair lined, is finished, the 

 little hen takes a respite from her labours ; for she is in no 

 hurry to lay her eggs, often waiting several days before the 



first little egg is deposited in the chosen nest, for at times 



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