The Common 
Wren. 
(155) THE BIRD WORLD. 
life, and had to borrow feathers from 
other birds till its own grew again. The 
flight feathers were never reproduced to 
their original length, so that the Wren 
is no longer able to soar heavenwards. 
The Wren’s title to be called “ the 
King of Birds,” and its familiarity with 
mouse holes, date, according to legends 
referred to by both Aristotle and Pliny, 
to the same remote period; when the 
birds, in council assembled, decided 
that whichever of them should fly nearest 
to the sun should be appointed to rule 
the avine world. The Eagle easily out- 
soared all other competitors, and pro¬ 
claimed his victory in a loud, harsh 
voice, which all the other birds heard 
with dread and were prepared to obey; 
but as he turned to descend to earth the 
little Wren, who, unobserved, had con¬ 
cealed itself amongst the Eagle’s 
feathers, flew yet a few yards higher and 
fearlessly claimed the honour in a burst of 
silvery music. The opinion of council 
was divided, some birds deeming 'hat 
punishment, not promotion, was the 
proper reward for such sharp practice, 
and pending a decision the Wren was 
confined in a mouse hole, and the Anl 
appointed to keep guard over it. Dis¬ 
cussion, however, was so protracted that 
the Owl fell asleep and his prisoner 
escaped, and ever since the Wren has 
looked upon the mouse’s hole as a sure 
[A Gardeners’ Friend, 
refuge. There are many other legends 
connected with the Wien, not the least 
curious being those which regard it as 
being the mate of Cock Robin. One 
tells u c that: 
The Robin Red Breast and the Wren 
.Are God Almighty’s cock and hen.’’ 
Some nursery rhymes, too, associate 
it in this way with the Redbreast in its 
care of the unburied bodies of children. 
St. Cuthbert, during one of his many 
wanderings when seeking seclusion, in a 
rude cave, had a soft pillow of moss 
and feathers made for him by a Wren, 
which also laid an egg for him every 
morning, and although the egg was so 
small when laid, it swelled out in the 
cooking so as to afford the saint an 
ample breakfast. A dead Wren, hung 
up in his cabin, is an old sailor’s talis¬ 
man for warding off shipwreck; while a 
feather from its body, tossed up in the 
air, tells him the direction from which 
wind may be expected, and according as 
it falls at once, or is carried away to 
sea, the force of the coming breeze is to 
be estimated. 
The nest of the Wren is a work of 
art, which has been admired by every¬ 
body. Wordsworth has said of it: 
“ Among the dwellings framed by birds, 
In field or forest with nice care, 
Is none that with the little Wren’s 
In snugness may compare. ” 
All sorts of sites are chosen for it, an 
ivy-covered wall or tree being amongst 
the most favoured. Though very fre¬ 
quently built of moss, nearly every other 
suitable substance is made use of, such 
as dead leaves, lichens, withered fern, 
and so forth; but as a rule a nest is 
begun and finished, externally, with the 
same material. While the hen is sitting, 
or even when she is engaged upon cne 
nest in which eggs are to be laid, her 
mate very often builds dummy nests at 
no great distance. They are seldom 
finished with the care bestowed upon 
that which is to be inhabited, however, 
and they do not usually receive the warm 
lining of feathers and down which it 
generally, though not always, has. The 
