14 A BUSH CALENDAR 



But very soon I came across a nest into which I could 

 easily see. Through the bushes came a faint, sibilant note, 

 which I recognised at once as that of the chestnut-shouldered 

 wren, a rarer cousin of our garden friend, the blue wren. Very 

 still I stood, and waited patiently, gazing in the direction of the 

 cry. Nearer and nearer it came, and suddenly only a few yards 

 in front of me there hopped out a tiny brown mouse-like bird, 

 with a long blue tail held very erect. It was the female, and 

 in her beak she carried a long thread of grass. With hops and 

 jerks she came through the bushes, and then with a flutter made 

 towards a clump of grass almost within my reach, but hidden 

 from sight by a thick sapling. Just for a second she stayed, 

 then was off, but without the thread. I peeped round the 

 sapling, and there, almost on the ground, was her little bulky 

 nest of grass, with its side entrance carefully hidden by the 

 protecting grasses. The nest was almost finished and ready for 

 eggs. The common blue wrens have been a little quicker with 

 their building, for last week I found their nest with two eggs, 

 half the full set. 



A sharp "twit-twit-twit" sounded in my ear, and I turned 

 quickly in time to see a small greenish-brown bird flash past. 

 It was the little brown tit, and in his beak he carried a small 

 morsel of food. I followed him quietly and watched him dart 

 for a moment into a small bush and then out again, and away. 

 I stepped up to the spot and there came across one of the 

 tragedies of the bush. In amongst the branches was set a small 



