42 Tue Birps Asout Us. 
in the country must have a lively recollection of that 
bright, sunny April morning when, for the first time 
in months, they heard the cheery singing of this lively 
minstrel. Itis always ready with a full performance. 
There is no tuning up, no interminable twanging of 
strings, or dead-and-alive tooting upon horns, but the 
full measure of the song proposed, and it is a wel- 
come to spring that puts faith in the hearts of all 
hearers. 
Year after year the same birds come to the same 
old quarters, and no time is lost in renovating them 
for the coming summer. This means work, of course, 
but the labor is not depressing. There goes a song 
along with every twig that is carried in-doors, a round 
of exultation with every egg that is laid, and a gen- 
eral rejoicing until the young have gathered strength 
sufficient to go out into the world. And all the while 
these birds are devouring thousands of insects,—liter- 
ally, thousands. 
I do not know how far, years ago, these wrens fre- 
quented the remote woods, but of late I have found 
far more in the weedy meadows, wandering about 
old worm-fences and making their homes in hollow 
trees, than about the out-buildings on the farm. Here, 
however, whether they felt out of place or not, they 
were just as lively and ready to pick a quarrel as 
when the lords of the door-yard. The change may 
not have been a sorrowful one for them, but it was 
for me. 
The house-wren is sensitive to cold, and early in 
October they leave for warmer regions; but it is very 
difficult to make many people believe this. Time 
