The Bewick Wrens 
that fiercely accusing “prrank!” is not good for the nerves. And the wren 
is laughing at you; be sure of that. 
The Bewick Wren is altogether a hilarious personage. He sets the 
canons of criticism at defiance, and when you think you have mastered 
all his tricks, he springs another one on you just to drive dull care away. 
The wren does not indulge in conscious mimicry; but since his art is self- 
taught, he is occasionally indebted to the companions of the chaparral for 
a theme. The maculatus Towhee motif is not uncommon in his songs, 
and the supposed notes of a Willow Goldfinch, a little off color, were once 
trailed to his door. On Santa Cruz Island 1 caught him filling in the 
intervals of song with a sort of buzzing lullaby, which reminded me very 
strongly of the biz biz note of the Western Gnatcatcher. Indeed, I am led 
to suspect that the record of the reputed occurrence of Polioptila on that 
island was really due to the activities of T. bewicki nesophilus. 
For all that the bird is so common, nests of the Bewick Wren type are 
comparatively rare in collections. This is due, perhaps, as much to the 
lawless variety of sites used, as to the caution of the bird. A cranny of 
suitable size is the sine qua non , and this may be in a rock-pile, in a can¬ 
yon-wall, in an old woodpecker-hole, in the mouth of an old tunnel of a 
Rough-winged Swallow, under a root, behind a sprung bark-scale, in an old 
shoe or a tin can, or the pocket of a disused coat. It may even be, as 
frequently upon Santa Cruz Island, in the bedded leafage of the forest 
floor. The Bewick Wren is rather chary of materials, especially sticks, 
and so far as known, he does not waste his energies constructing useless 
decoys or cocks’ nests, as almost all other species of wrens do. Eggs are 
five or six in number, white, sparsely but sharply dotted with cinnamon. 
The lining materials are of the finest, and an occasional cast-off snake- 
skin lends its quotum of interest to the aggregate of blanketings. 
If the Bewick Wren is sly and secretive during the nesting season, 
a more generous spirit fills its breast when the young are well astir. 
Nothing could be more charming than the sight of a family group of 
bewickis taking a Sunday stroll. Bugs are the ostensible object of pur¬ 
suit, but bug-hunting languishes when the stranger seats himself on a 
mossy log, and a gentle ripple of veiled inquiry assures him that he is of 
more interest than many bugs. One by one the questing babies hop out 
into the open, select a comfortable perch and survey the big brother with 
friendly curiosity. Many childish comments are passed, and the mis¬ 
chief of the party may even start a snicker, but it is all in good part, and the 
birdman feels the flattery of a dozen admiring eyes. Even the mother, a 
little reluctant, is lured into the open by the confident declarations of her 
children; and under pretense of righting a rumpled feather, accepts com¬ 
pliments upon the fine appearance of her gentle brood. Admiring eyes 
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