The Rock Wren 
admirable sounding-board, and the bird stops midway of whatever task 
to sing a hymn of wildest exultation. Whit'tier, whit'tier, whit'tier, is one of 
his finest strains; while ka-whee, ka-whee, ka-whee, is a sort of challenge 
which the bird renders in various tempo, and punctuates with nervous 
bobs to enforce attention. 
For the rest his notes are so 
varied, spontaneous, and un¬ 
trammeled as hardly to admit 
of precise description. Once, 
in February, I caught a Rock 
Wren near San Diego, 
rehearsing in an undertone 
for the coming concert 
season. The bird was only 
twenty feet away from me 
(and I had eight-power 
glasses), but by no visible 
indication could one guess 
the source of the music, save 
as the score now and then 
led up to the whittier note, 
which obliged the bird to 
part the mandibles slightly. 
The Wren was really singing 
through his nose, a ventriloquist, as well as a vocalist of no mean order. 
Another Rock Wren, held under full survey on Santa Cruz Island, 
was producing an extraordinary series of squeaking and rubbing notes, 
which I should have attributed to the Anna Hummer. In fact, a moment 
later an indubitable Anna did tune up in practically the same fashion, 
only a good deal better, and 1 could see that the Wren had been taking 
a lesson in this music of the fairies. 
Save in the vicinity of his nest, the Rock Wren is rather an elusive 
sprite. If you clamber to his haunts, he will remove, as a matter of 
course, a hundred yards along the cliff; or he will Hit across the mesa with 
a nonchalance which discourages further effort. Left to himself, how¬ 
ever, he may whimsically return—near enough perhaps for you to catch 
the click, click of his tiny claws as he goes over the lava blocks, poking 
into crevices after spiders here, nibbling larvae in vapor holes there, or 
scaling sheer heights yonder without a thought of vertigo. 
At nesting time the cliffs present a thousand chinks and hidey- 
holes, any one of which would do to put a nest in. The collector is likely 
to be dismayed at the wealth of possibilities before him, and the birds 
686 
Taken in Kings County Photo by the Author 
NEST OF ROCK WREN IN SANDSTONE CRANNY 
NOT QUITE TYPICAL, HOWEVER, BECAUSE OF RATHER ABBREVIATED APPROACH 
