OUR OLD-GARDEN BIRDS. 147 



about the yard and generally occupies the summer- 

 wren's haunts, but adds to them a range along the 

 hill-side, where, among wilted weeds, mossy ground, 

 and tangled nooks, it is really more at home. Every 

 winter I find them in the old garden about the fences 

 and the shrubbery along them. Their exits and 

 entrances are made with wonderful celerity, and not 

 so much as a chirp, for hours at a time. I love best 

 to see them about the old bridge and the bush- 

 hidden brook that crosses the lane. They dart fear- 

 lessly where other birds proceed with care ; they 

 come and go like feathered sunbeams, regardless of 

 obstacles, and all too rarely pause a moment in their 

 career to warble some trifle from their matchless 

 summer songs. Like the Carolina wren, which is, 

 happily, a fixture here, this little brown fellow is 

 fond of spiders, and is often found, particularly after 

 snow-storms, about the stable and cow-sheds, search- 

 ing for them ; but it must have exceedingly sharp 

 eyes, for the coveted spiders are generally hiber- 

 nating, and why any should show themselves when 

 there are no insects flying is a mystery. Here, how- 

 ever, come the wrens, and there is not a nook or 

 a cranny that they do not probe. Somehow, some- 

 where, these birds must find sufficient food, for they 

 never droop. They are as active in March as in 

 October, and leave us, I doubt not, in as good con- 

 dition as when they came. 



Do the Carolina wrens recognize in them a sort 

 of poor relation that they have reason to dislike? 

 There is generally a show of quarrelling when they 



