Rearing a Wren Family 99 



But those ever-growing appetites soon mastered caution, 

 and, regardless of continual warnings, there was a soft 

 little "Wink! Wink! " in the direction of the vine-cov- 

 ered stump. J Twas hardly an exclamation of delight, but 

 just a gentle reminder lest the busy parents forget. Grad- 

 ually these little notes increased in number and volume till 

 the full chorus of five impatient voices arose from among 

 the tangle of vines and ferns. 



My continued visits had made fast friends of the little 

 fellows. Two of them took their position on the top 

 of the stub where the father was accustomed to light. 

 Here they sat in sleepy attitude, each awaiting his turn 

 to be fed. Not in the least accommodating were they from 

 the photographer's point of view, for generally when the 

 camera was focused for the picture they would nod lower 

 and lower, as children do at bedtime, till both were sound 

 asleep in the warm sunshine. It was remarkable, how- 

 ever, to witness the effect of the mother's trill as she her- 

 alded the approach of something edible. In a flash both 

 wrenlets on the wooden watch-tower were wide awake and 

 on the tiptoe of expectancy. 



Often do I remember trying to play foster-parent to 

 young birds, and yet, with all my care and patience, I 

 seldom succeeded. A week before, when I had held a large 

 spider temptingly near the nestlings, they had crouched 

 back in terror; but by this time they had certainly gained 

 in worldly wisdom. I also had not been watching the 

 wrens for the past two weeks without learning. I had 

 seen the mother hop up and down an old stump, like a 

 dog after a squirrel, till she would haul out a big grub. 

 Digging into this bird storehouse with my knife, in a trice 



