would sing incessantly to his mate and when she left the 

 nest for food and water he would take the place on the eggs, 

 and while on the nest waiting for her return he kept up his 

 singing just the same. After the eggs hatched we watched 

 them feeding the babies. The male bird worked as hard 

 apparently as the mother bird in feeding the children until 

 they left the nest. 



A pair of house wrens commenced to build a nest in a box 

 put up for them on the jet of the house. The female would 

 lug in sticks from two to six inches long. It was interesting 

 to see her when she arrived at the entrance to her home with 

 a stick six or more inches long put it into a hole one inch 

 in diameter. She would carry the stick near the middle in her 

 bill. When she reached the hole it made a complete bar across 

 it and stopped her short from entering. She then would work 

 the stick along in her bill until it came to the end, then she 

 would enter and draw the stick into the box. The male would 

 work some, but most of the work was done by the female. In 

 the course of a week I supposed she was incubating. I found 

 out by the fuss the male made, bubbling over with song and 

 carrying sticks to his box and then over to one of the large 

 birdhouses on the post. I soon discovered that the female 

 had left her nest just built and gone away to find a new home, 

 evidently not satisfied with this one. The male bird was 

 working his best to get her to return and occupy her nest 

 just built or build in the large house. He was busy for sev- 

 eral days trying to coax her to return to her nest or take up a 

 new tenement in the large bird house. All the time he bubbled 

 over with song, carried sticks into several tenements in the 

 large house, then he would fly away and bring back his mate. 

 She would look over the situation, but of no avail. Like most 

 of her sex she was determined to have her own way and 

 did. Later she found a place over across the road that suited 

 and later I found her beside the road feeding her young- 

 babies. 



The song sparrow is my favorite bird about Fern Cottage, 

 one I so much welcome in early spring, bubbling over with 

 its song from early morning until night, and many a dark 

 night I have heard it sing at ten, eleven and twelve o'clock. 

 It is here late in the season and has stayed two seasons all 

 winter and fed with the other birds at the window. I am 



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