52 



# THE NIDIOLOGIST. 



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NEST AND EGGS OF THE ROCK WREN 



The Rock Wren. 



AMONG the nmny features of that 

 " dream of something marvelousl}^ 

 unreal" — atrip to the Farallones — 

 one of the most attractive, to me, is 

 tlie Rock Wren, which, though the smallest 

 unit of the bird life, by no means commands 

 the least interest. As the Islands are ap- 

 proached the first birds seen are the Murres. 

 I noticed small flocks of these as far as ten 

 or fifteen miles before landing, and as we 

 came nearer they increased in numbers un- 

 til a file of eight or ten skimmed by our 

 boat every few moments. Two or three 

 miles from the islands the Gulls were seen, 

 and occasionally a few Cormorants and a 

 couple of Puffins or Guillemots. On the 

 beach where we landed two dead Auklets 

 were washed up. 



Thus almost before we reached the i.slands 

 we had seen nearly all the varieties to be 

 found there, the Ashy Petrel and Rock 

 Wren being the only breeding birds not yet 

 ol)served. It was not until we had clam- 

 bered up the rocks, observing new wonders 

 at every step, and had got well started to- 

 ward the keeper's house, that we saw our 

 first Rock Wren. The egg-pickers were 

 just going over the cliffs near the landing, 

 and the air was clouded with Gulls and 



Murres, which were screaming and clamor- 

 ing their loudest and attracting all our at- 

 tention, when suddenly a sound caught my 

 ear which immediately turned my thoughts 

 in another direction. It was the merry 

 whistle of the Rock Wren, which in this 

 wild place seemed almost to betoken civiliz- 

 ation. This plaintive, almost comforting 

 note, carried me back to the first Rock 

 Wren I ever saw in Santa Clara county. 

 At about five o'clock one morning I was 

 pedalling my ever-reliable wheel along the 

 road, about fifteen miles from home, and 

 was just getting a little tired and dusty and 

 looking for a place to stop and rest, when 

 from a barren-looking little hill near the 

 road came the song of the Rock Wren. I 

 stopped and listened a few moments, enjoy- 

 ing the song, and then went up the side of 

 the hill, where I obtained a closer view of 

 the songster and established his identity. 



There seemed to be a small colony there, 

 for hopping about over the rocks were ten 

 or fifteen birds, some of which were young 

 of the year, showing that they breed. 



On the P\arallones the birds are seldom 

 met on the higher portions of the Island, 

 but are found principally on the low flats. 

 Here they are very common, hopping in 

 and out of every favorable-looking crevice, 

 until the hooeful collector, who thinks to 



