270 HABITS OF THE WEEN. 



The materials of which the nest is composed are always leaves, moss, grass and lichens, 

 and it is almost always so neatly built that it can hardly be seen by one who was 

 not previously aware of its position. The opening of the nest is always at the side, so 

 that the eggs are securely shielded from the effects of weather. 



As to the locality and position in which the nest is placed, no definite rule is observed, 

 for the Wren is more capricious than the generality of birds in fixing upon a house for hei 

 young. Wrens' nests have been found in branches, hedges, hayricks, waterspouts, hollow 

 trees, barns and outhouses. Sometimes the Wren becomes absolutely eccentric in its 

 choice, and builds its nest in spots which no one would conjecture that a bird would select. 

 A Wren has been known to make its nest in the body of a dead hawk, which had been 

 killed and nailed to the side of a barn. Another Wren chose to make her house in the 

 throat of a dead calf, which had been hung upon a tree, and another of these curious little 

 birds was seen to build in the interior of a pump, gaining access to her eggs and young 

 through the spout. 



The eggs of the Wren are very small, and are generally from six to eight in number. 



During the winter, the Wren generally shelters itself from the weather in the same 

 nest which it had inhabited during the breeding season, and in very cold seasons it is not 

 an uncommon event to find six or seven Wrens all huddled into a heap for the sake of 

 warmth, and presenting to the eye or hand of the spectator nothing but a shapeless mass 

 of soft brown feathers. It is probable that these little gatherings may be composed of 

 members of the same family, an opinion which is strengthened by the following account 

 which was sent by Mr. Ogilby to Mr. Thompson, and quoted in his work on the natural 

 history of Ireland : 



" These little birds associate in small families of from four or five to a dozen or more, 

 and take refuge in holes, or under the eaves of thatched houses, during the severity of 

 winter nights. I have often, when a boy, watched the little party thus taking up their 

 lodgings for the night, and have on more than one occasion captured and driven them 

 from their retreat. They make a prodigious chattering and bustle upon finally settling 

 for the night, as if contending which shall get into the warmest and most comfortable 

 place, and frequently come to the mouth of the hole to see that they are unobserved. I 

 presume that these little parties are composed of the nestlings of the previous year, with, 

 perhaps, the parent birds, but I have no proof beyond its probability. If such be the case, 

 however, it would show that the bond of social union between the parent birds and their 

 young continues unbroken during the year, and is severed only when the new season 

 prompts the young brood to become parents in their turn." 



Sometimes the Wrens have rather odd modes of bivouacking. A lady who was accustomed 

 to attract great numbers of the feathered tribes to her garden by supplying them abun- 

 dantly with crumbs, seeds, and other dainties, told me that when the weather became. 1 

 cold, the Wrens used to gather themselves upon a moderately large branch of a tree, about 

 four inches above which grew another branch. In the evening the Wrens assembled upon 

 their resting-place, and packed themselves very comfortably for the night, piled three or 

 four deep, apparently for the sake of warmth, the topmost bird always having his back 

 pressed against the upper branch, as if to keep all steady. Pitying their forlorn condition, 

 their benefactress provided a bedroom for them, being a square box lined with flannel, and 

 with a very small round hole by way of door. This was fixed on the branch, and the 

 birds soon took advantage of it, their numbers seeming to increase nightly, until at last 

 upwards of forty Wrens would crowd into a box which did not seem capable of containing 

 half that number. When asleep, they were so drowsy that they would permit the lid of 

 the box to be lifted, and themselves to be handled, without attempting to move. All these 

 Wiens were supposed to come from a number of nests which had been made in the gnarled 

 roots of old hawthorn bushes which grew at the side of a narrow but deep brook running 

 at the end of the garden. 



The same lady noticed that Wrens were much attracted by colour, especially by scarlet. 

 At the beginning of her acquaintance she had laid some food for them, but they were so 

 shy that they dared not approach, and the saucy sparrows invariably ate all the egg and 

 crumbs that were intended for the Wrens. One morning, a flower of a scarlet geranium 



