256 AN OWDS HEAD HOLIDAY. 



there was a thrush, feeding on the ground ; or 

 an oven-bird might be seen picking his devious 

 way through the underwoods, in paths of his 

 own, and with a gait of studied and " sanctimo- 

 nious " originality. In the list of the lowly 

 must be put the winter wrens also ; one need 

 never look skyward for them. For a minute or 

 two during my first ascent of Owl's Head I 

 had lively hopes of finding one of their nests. 

 Two or three of the birds were scolding ear- 

 nestly right about my feet, as it were, and 

 their cries redoubled, or so I imagined, when I 

 approached a certain large, moss-grown stump. 

 This I looked over carefully on all sides, put- 

 ting my fingers into every possible hole and 

 crevice, till it became evident that nothing 

 was to be gained by further search. (What 

 a long chapter we could write, any of us who 

 are ornithologists, about the nests we did not 

 find!) It dawned upon me a little later that 

 I had been fooled ; that it was not the nest 

 which had been in question at all. That, wher- 

 ever it was, had been forsaken some days before ; 

 and the birds were parents and young, the for- 

 mer distracting my attention by their outcries, 

 while at the same moment they \^ere ordering 

 the youngsters to make off as quickly as possible, 

 lest yonder hungry fiend should catch and de- 

 vour them. If wrens ever laugh, this pair must 



