THE PERCHING Birps. 4t 
ical races of nearly all of them. In the Eastern and 
Middle States we are pretty well supplied, and no one, 
I imagine, has lived in the country or in a village but 
what has seen and heard the common summer resi- 
dent “house” or “little brown” wren. Much that 
was said of the bluebird can be repeated of this lit- 
tle bird. It was once very much more abundant 
than now. The imported sparrow is responsible for 
the sad fact. The two birds cannot or will not live 
together, and while a wren can thrash a sparrow in 
open combat, a pair of them cannot withstand the 
assault of a whole horde of the pestiferous foreigners. 
The Wrens as a family have a good deal in common, 
seen as individuals, and a person who is familiar with 
the species on our Eastern seaboard will at once 
recognize the Cactus-wrens of the far West. They 
all have a quick, nervous, irritable way about them 
that is unmistakable. 
The Common House-wren of the East—which has 
a range west to the Mississippi Valley and goes as far 
north as Canada, and winters in the Southern States 
—has been a favorite theme for ornithological writers, 
and the stories of its eccentricities, ready wit, and 
daring ways are innumerable. Its decided preference 
for the neighborhood of human habitations has to do 
with this. I doubt not it lingered about the Indians’ 
wigwams, welcomed the earliest European settlers, 
and, until the introduction of the sparrow, was a fixed 
feature of every farm-house, and was almost as com- 
mon in the towns as in the country. All it asked 
was a little box wherein to nest, and it paid rent 
therefor in musical notes. Those who have lived 
4* 
