114 Twelve Months With 



woods. It is very short and stubby and notice- 

 ably browner than the house wren. The Caro- 

 lina wren has one of the most beautiful of all 

 bird songs, a clear, liquid whistle — "whee-dule! 

 whee-dule! whee-dule!" — somewhat resembling 

 the whistle of the cardinal. 



Early last spring I was delightfully entertained 

 for half an hour by a little winter wren which I 

 met in the woods. He was on his usual perch, 

 an old upturned, decaying stump. As soon as he 

 bobbed under one of the roots I quietly stepped 

 up close to the stump, without being observed, 

 and sat down to watch him, for I knew he would 

 soon bob out again on the other side of one of 

 the upturned roots. As I expected, he immedi- 

 ately hopped out and jerked his little tail about 

 and peered into all the dark holes and shadows 

 of the stump. After ducking under one root and 

 coming up again, he would jerk himself under 

 the next one, as pert and active as a jack-in-the- 

 box, wholly disdainful of my presence. This 

 characteristic habit, and his short, stubby body, 

 with his more brownish plumage and white wing 

 bars, mark him unmistakably as the winter wren. 



The only other wren, in addition to those men- 

 tioned, which is common in this latitude is the 

 long-billed marsh wren. These saucy little inhab- 

 itants of the cattail marshes stay with us all sum- 

 mer. They nest in the marshes at the south end of 

 Lake Michigan, in the Calumet region, and similar 

 localities. They build a globular nest of coarse 



