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a sitting Willow Wren, when frightened from the nest, will

occasionally do. The body of the male I found some ten feet away

in a dark corner. The female continued to sit, but very loosely.

The eggs commenced to hatch out on the afternoon of 4th

November ; on the following morning I found one on the floor,

some distance from the nest ; it had been partially opened, and

a lusty leg was kicking out of the aperture. With more zeal

than discretion, I rushed with it to the nest, and popped it in.

The mother, amazed at such an unwonted invasion of the sacred

precincts, hovered in the air close to me in a very pretty way ; I

have seen a humming-bird moth hover in the air in a very

similar manner. There were then two young birds in the nest,

but the rejected egg and its inmate I never saw again. Possibly

if I had removed the shell a little more, or entirely if practicable,

the j^oung one might have been saved. Or did the mother

deliberately reject it, feeling that the two young would be as

mau3^ as she could rear unaided !


For a few days matters progressed favourably; and then I

noticed that, owing to the body of the nest being too bulky for

the wire cup, the weight of the mother sitting in the aperture

whilst feeding the young was causing it to slide over the edge.

Three times I moved it back into position ; but, 011 the afternoon

of November 15th, both youngsters were on the floor, one

moderately lively and the other apparently dead. Taking them

in the hollow of my hands, I rushed to the nearest fire and gave

them a good warming. Returning to the room, I removed the

nest from its untrustworthy support and planted it on the top of a

heap of sand in the bird’s old cage in which the food and water

were always placed, depositing the two birds in it, the younger

still almost lifeless. This was a mistaken move in many ways ;

but in the hurry of the moment I could not la3^ my hands on

anything suitable in which to safely fix the nest in the tree. It

was foggy and dark ; and lamps are a poor substitute for day¬

light ; the young were in a strange place, and “ on the ground ”

(a little over three feet above the level of the floor)—and at first

the mother wouldn’t, perhaps later she couldn’t, feed them.

Until very late I saw her hovering about ; she went up to the

nest at least on one occasion, but no open mouth received her,

and she eventually disappeared, but with a sore heart. I knew

the young could hardly live without food until the morning, so,

chewing up some sponge cake and egg, I commenced feeding

them with a fine paint brush.


Those of our readers who are accustomed to the sight of



