120 WASTE-LAND WANDERINGS. 



be true. Like all birds that continually haunt the 

 banks of streams, this wren had the trick of jerking its 

 tail quite like the spotted sand-piper or golden-crowned 

 thrush. Is it necessary in consequence of the yielding 

 of the soft mud over which it hopped ? I went ashore 

 to see if so small a bird left any tracks, and found that 

 they were quite deep ; as well denned as sparrow tracks 

 made on new-fallen snow. Returning to the boat, I saw 

 the wren again a few rods farther down the stream, and 

 I wished for those of my friends who believe in the 

 power of snakes to charm birds. On a mat of dead 

 grass, close to the water's edge, was coiled a huge water- 

 snake, and the wren was evidently, by a torrent of abuse 

 and vehement scolding, endeavoring to drive the creat- 

 ure away. It flew at it, and snapped its beak so sharply 

 that I could plainly hear it ; but the snake was quite in- 

 different to the turmoil about, and only left its bed as 

 I came opposite to it. But the wren claimed all the 

 credit, and sang exultantly as I passed by. 



Passing rank growths of aquatic weeds which to-day 

 seemed quite deserted, I reached that charming portion 

 of the creek, Dead Willow Bend. Perhaps of all our 

 forest -trees a dead willow is the least expressive; far 

 less so, surely, than the decaying oak or elm that for 

 centuries has been a landmark, once to the Indian and 

 since to ourselves ; but such dead willows are neverthe- 

 less suggestive. Their short and bulky trunks are pret- 

 ty sure to be hollow, and the rambler naturally looks for 

 animals lurking in their roomy interiors. Perhaps it is 

 for this very reason that our mammals generally are 

 careful not to occupy them. I give the coon, skunk, and 



