40 Birds Every Child Should Know 
then drops into the grasses which engulf her as 
surely as if she had dropped into the sea. You 
may search in vain to find her now. Like the 
rails, she has her paths and runways among the 
tall sedges and cat-tails, where not even a boy 
in rubber boots may safely follow. 
But she does not live alone. Withdraw, sit 
down quietly for awhile and wait for the ex- 
citement of your visit to subside; for every 
member of the wren colony, peering sharply at 
you through the grasses, was watching you 
long before you saw the first wren. Presently 
you hear a rippling, bubbling song from one of 
her neighbours ; then another and another and 
still another from among the cat-tails which, 
you now suspect, conceal many musicians. 
The song goes oft like a small explosion of mel- 
ody whose force often carries the tiny singer up 
into the air. One explosion follows another, 
and between them there is much wren talk — a 
scolding chatter that is as great a relief to the 
birds’ nervous energy as the exhaust from its 
safety valve is to a steam engine. The rising 
of a red-winged blackbird from his home in the 
sedges, the rattle of the kingfisher on his way 
up the creek, or the leisurely flapping of a 
bittern over the marshes is enough to start the 
chattering chorus. 
Why are the birds so excited? This is their 
nesting season. May, and really they are too 
