Rearing a Wren Family 95 



It was the mother's duty to forage. Returning from 

 the hunt with food she whisked about with a " what-are- 

 you - doing - here " look of inquiry. Although flustered 

 somewhat at first by our presence, she soon came to regard 

 us with an air of indifference. A moment's pause on her 

 threshold, and into the round opening she would pop; 

 then, as if amazed at the increasing appetites she had to 

 appease, she would dart out and away for a new supply. 



About the hillside and down along the little stream 

 the mother searched continually the entire day for grubs. 

 Each time returning, she would pause on the top of 

 one of the trees nearby and pipe her merry trill. This 

 note of home-coming the father never failed to hear, and 

 it was he that always gave the response of " all's well." 

 I was amused to hear how readily the wrenlets learned 

 to recognize the voice of their mother. Her song of ar- 

 rival came to be answered by such a chorus of tiny cries 

 from the round door that she could not resist hurrying 

 headlong to the nest. Several times from my " rabbit's 

 hole " in the bushes I saw a song sparrow stop on sway- 

 ing limb and sing a song somewhat resembling that of the 

 wren, but the children in the wooden home knew not the 

 song, and, true to their parents' teachings, remained quiet 

 while the doughty father darted out and drove the in- 

 truder from the premises. 



On July 23d I wrote in my note-book: " This morning 

 I was surprised to see two little brown heads as I gazed 

 through my field-glass at the round nest hole." But how 

 could I ever get pictures of the wren nestlings if they were 

 to remain continually within those protected wooden 

 walls? 



