Rearing a Wren Family 93 



of starting housekeeping without searching up the hill- 

 sides, through the meadows, or back in the deep woods 

 until the cast-off scaly coat of some snake is found and 

 borne home in triumph as a safeguard. 



Almost every feathered creature has some interesting 

 trait of protection. I have always found that the red- 

 breasted nuthatch, after he has dug out his wooden home 

 in some dead stump, never fails to collect a good supply 

 of soft pitch to plaster about the round doorway of his 

 log-house. 



Ever since I discovered the wren building its home 

 in the alder stub my interest had grown, and I was anx- 

 ious to win its friendship, principally because most birds 

 had finished nesting for the season. Why had the nest 

 not been placed nearer the ground instead of at a dis- 

 tance of twelve feet, and why was such a dark, narrow 

 home chosen that I could hardly get a glimpse of the in- 

 terior ? 



Experience had taught me not to try to win the affec- 

 tions of a bird too rapidly, especially at a season when it 

 was so busy with household affairs. When I thought I 

 could safely do so, I went up near the nest rather cautiously 

 and timidly, and sat down in the tall ferns. It surprised 

 me somewhat that neither parent scolded at my approach. 

 After watching and waiting for almost half an hour and 

 seeing neither wren, I became impatient and knocked 

 gently on the tree trunk to pay my respects to the brown 

 head that might be thrust from the round door above. 

 Again I knocked, and then a little harder. It was queer 

 that a wren could not feel such an earthquake against the 

 pillar of her home. I shook the tree vigorously. Could 



