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Mar., 1920 THE NESTING HABITS OF THE ALASKA WREN 51 
their habits. In the year 1918 it was my good fortune, while investigating cer- 
tain features of the fur seal herd, under the auspices of the Bureau of Fish- 
eries, to be stationed on the island of St. George during the greater part ot 
May and the first half of June. An unusual number of wrens were seen about 
the village during this period, and when time permitted were watched with 
more than usual interest. The more important results of the investigation are 
recorded in the following paragraphs. 
Throughout the summer at least, these diminutive creatures confine their 
activities to the perpendicular cliffs and the adjacent boulder-strewn beach 
where they prove to be more than usually inconspicuous, for several reasons. 
In the first place their brownish coats harmonize almost perfectly with the 
weathered basaltic rock and the encrusting lichens, and this, together with 
their habit of slipping along the face of the cliff by very short flights, or mov- 
ing mouse-like through the grass, or entering crevices of the chff or beneath 
the beach boulders to appear again several feet distant, renders it most diffi- 
cult to follow their movements for many minutes together. Also, during the 
month of May and the first half of June—the length of my sojourn on St. 
George Island—the weather was anything but ideal. Rain, dense fogs, or at 
least heavily overcast skies, with piercing winds and a temperature of not 
over fifty degrees, placed a heavy tax on one’s powers of endurance and eye- 
sight. Furthermore, the almost incessant incoming and outgoing stream of 
least, crested and paroquet auklets interspersed with kittiwakes, puffins and 
murres, and the movements of these species on the cliffs, produce a bewilder- 
ing effect which tends to blot out minor details. However, as | shall now at- 
tempt to show, there are a few fairly distinct periods during the breeding sea- 
son of this wren when its movements are so definite and regularly repeated 
that the discovery of the nest is a comparatively easy task. 
During the winter, when the voices of other birds are stilled and the sound 
of the surf is muffled by the ice, the song of this hardy northerner can doubt- 
less be heard in its entirety, and is declared by Mr. Henry Elliott to be of a 
highly agreeable, cheery character. In the summer, on the other hand, the 
lower or at least the weaker notes are usually lost amid the general uproar, 
and the resultant effect bears a strong resemblance to the creaking of a non- 
lubricated and rapidly pushed baby buggy. It is cheery only insofar as it indi- 
eates that a nest is or will be built within a thousand feet; for each pair ot 
these birds clings tenaciously to a fairly definite beat. 
At the outset be it known that the male is almost utterly useless when de- 
pended upon to disclose the presence of the nest, until after the young are 
hatehed. In carefree fashion he explores the cracks and crannies of the cliffs 
for half-frozen bugs and flies, or repairs to a commanding position at the up- 
per margin of the cliff, where he delivers himself of his unoiled song; or tiring 
of this he flies a quarter of a mile or so along the coast to sneak back a few 
minutes later to the same old stand. In three instances only, have I seen the 
male fly to the neighborhood of the female or the nest during the building or 
incubation period, and his stay in every case was of brief duration. 
During this time the female may or may not be in evidence, and if discov- 
ered her activities are usually found to be essentially the same as those of her 
mate. If so—and an hour’s watching will generally settle the matter—it is 
economy of effort to postpone the search for the nest until the morrow. How- 
