The Marsh Wren 
39 
others. In addition to his ringing, whistled 
notes, he can make other sounds peculiarly his 
own: trills and quavers, scolding cacks, rat- 
tling kringggs, something like the tree toad’s, be- 
sides the joyful, lyrical melody that has given 
him his reputation as a musician. Even these do 
not complete his repertoire. To deliver his fam- 
ous song, he chooses a conspicuous position in 
the top of some bush or low tree; then, with 
head uplifted and tail drooping — a favourite 
posture of all these lively singers — he makes 
us very glad indeed that we heard him. Hap- 
pily he sings almost as many months in the 
year as the most cheerful bird we have, the 
song sparrow. 
THE MARSH WREN 
Hidden among the tall grasses and reeds along 
the creeks and rivers, lives the long-billed marsh 
wren, a nervous, active little creature that you 
know at a glance. With tail cocked up and 
even tilted forward toward her head in the ex- 
treme of wren fashion, or suddenly jerked 
downward to help keep her balance, she sways 
with the grass as it blows in the wind — a dainty 
little sprite. With no desire to make your 
acquaintance, she flies with a short, jerky motion 
(because of her short wings) a few rods away. 
