OUR FRIENDS, THE BIRDS. 131 
He will sit for a long time on some exposed branch, 
pluming himself or simply waiting for something to 
eat. He does not fly around in the business-like way 
of other birds after his food, but waits quietly for the 
insects to come to him. Sometimes he merely opens 
his mouth when he sees a fly coming. Sometimes he 
darts after it, but returns to his perch. He is active 
enough when pursuing some other bird. 
He is no singer but makes a twittering noise as 
_he flies. His human enemy is the bee-keeper who 
thinks that the sole business of the ‘‘Bee-Martin,” as 
he calls him, is to destroy his bees. It is said that he 
prefers the drones but sometimes snaps up the queen 
bee while she is out on the single journey of her life. 
Many writers have described his wonderful courage in 
attacking birds larger than himself and coming off the 
victor in the fight. Many have testified to his useful- 
ness in ridding the world of insect pests; but the poets 
have found nothing about him to invoke the Muse. 
Ernest Ingersoll in his “Country Cousins” relates 
an incident which shows that his kingship is not equal 
to all emergencies. He says: “Between the showers 
one of these royal fellows came over the field with a 
self-confident swing in his flight, and alighted on a 
sapling. He had stood there not a minute, when up 
sprang two Wrens from their perch on the highest 
beam of the bridge, and dashed at him like little furies. 
The surprise and impetuosity of that attack was too 
much for him, and though he had more than once 
