How the Tule Wrens Acquired 

 Summer Quarters 



TWO TULE WRENS, MORSELS OF BROWN 



birds with long bills and saucy tails, flew about the mar- 

 gins of a little pool in the cattails of the marsh. They had 

 not casually drifted in. A definite urge had brought them; 

 they had come early to make proper reservations. 



On the nearby hillsides of the University of Washington 

 campus, willows and alders had begun to leaf. In the stadium 

 a few rods from the marsh shore, athletes worked in their 

 light track outfits as they trained for their various specialties. 

 Girl and boy students walked hand in hand. Others stopped 

 to watch the first practice of the baseball squad. Every sunny 

 afternoon the manager of the canoehouse busied himself in 

 launching canoes for spring-struck classmen who wanted to 

 forget all school work and drift about and dream in the fresh 

 warmth. Yes, any observer could be quite sure that spring 

 had come to the uplands. 



But winter had not yet loosened its grip on the marsh even 

 though the canoehouse manager, who was also the recorder 

 of all marsh activity, had seen the tree swallows, our first 

 spring migrants, over a month before. High and cold water 

 had held back all swamp vegetation except the horsetail, 



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