NESTLINGS OF FOREST AND MARSH 
they sit swinging on the cat-tails ; to follow 
their flight over the glistening green, dip- 
ping, rising, circling in matchless curves, — 
is not all this well worth the sacrifice of a 
morning nap ? 
But the marsh is a faithful keeper and 
guards its secrets well. Much hard work, 
many discomforts, some danger, and small 
success will often be the sum total of a day 
spent there. The little marsh people are 
shy and very, very wily. Of twenty-nine 
marsh wren's nests examined in one day 
only one had eggs in it, the rest being either 
dummy or last year’s nests. Afterwards 
the same proportion was encountered in 
another marsh. 
The nest we had chosen to watch was in 
the centre of a little island of rushes sepa- 
rated from the main marsh by a passage 
just wide enough to punt a duckboat 
through. Here we lay, partly concealed, 
while the anxious little father scolded and 
sang by turns, and then with deliberate 
intention to deceive, commenced to build a 
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