BIKDS' EGGS 67 



bed and bedding being pitched out-of-doors, and had 

 thereupon given the wrens to understand in the most 

 emphatic manner that he had no intention of vacat- 

 ing the premises so early in the season. Day after 

 day, for more than two weeks, the male bluebird 

 had to clear his premises of these intruders. It oc- 

 cupied much of his time and not a little of mine, as 

 I sat with a book in a summer-house near by, laugh- 

 ing at his pretty fury and spiteful onset. On two 

 occasions the wren rushed under the chair in which 

 I sat, and a streak of blue lightning almost flashed 

 in my very face. One day, just as I had passed the 

 tree in which the cavity was placed, I heard the 

 wren scream desperately; turning, I saw the little 

 vagabond fall into the grass with the wrathful blue- 

 bird fairly upon him; the latter had returned just 

 in time to catch him, and was evidently bent on 

 punishing him well. But in the squabble in the grass 

 the wren escaped and took refuge in the friendly 

 evergreen. The bluebird paused for a moment with 

 outstretched wings looking for the fugitive, then flew 

 away. A score of times during the month of June 

 did I see the wren taxing every energy to get away 

 from the bluebird. He would dart into the stone 

 wall, under the floor of the summer-house, into 

 the weeds, — anywhere to hide his diminished head. 

 The bluebird, with his bright coat, looked like an 

 officer in uniform in pursuit of some wicked, rusty 

 little street gamin. Generally the favorite house of 

 refuge of the wrens was the little spruce, into which 

 their pursuer made no attempt to follow them. The 



