The Western House Wren 
As a consequence, our California House Wren is rather a bird of the 
woods; and there are ten times as many nests in holes in trees as there 
are attached to human domiciles. 
Once upon the scene, however, one little House Wren goes a great 
ways, East or West. He is bursting with energy, and music escapes 
from his busy mandibles like steam from a safety valve. The first 
task after the spring return is to renovate last year’s quarters; but there 
is always time on the side to explore a new brush-heap, to scold a cat, 
or to indulge innumerable song-bursts. In singing his joyous trill the 
bird reminds one of a piece of fireworks called a “cascade,” for he fills the 
air with a brilliant bouquet of 
music, and is himself, one would 
think, nearly consumed by the 
violence of the effort. But the 
next moment the singer is 
carrying out last year’s feather 
bed by great beakfuls, or lug¬ 
ging into some cranny sticks 
ridiculously large for him. 
During the nesting season 
both birds are perfect little 
spitfires, assaulting mischievous 
prowlers with a fearlessness 
which knows no caution, 
and scolding in a voice which 
expresses the deepest scorn. 
The rasping note produced on 
such an occasion reminds one 
of the energetic use of a nutmeg 
grater by a determined 
housewife. 
Wintering birds, or at 
least young ones, in Southern 
California have a note which, 
though still rasping, seems 
quite different from any¬ 
thing I have heard in the 
breeding season. It is a loud, 
harsh, compelling note of com¬ 
plaint, uttered either singly, 
wuzeeeerp, or in a breathless 
series, zeerp, zeerp, zirp zirp 
Taken in San Bernardino County 
Photo by Pierce 
NEST AND EGGS OF WESTERN HOUSE WREN 
PORTION OF INVESTING WOOD REMOVED 
677 
