6 
Birds of River, Forest and Sky 
Up the river near the dippers’ home the wrens were found in 
one of the best tracts of timber in the whole region, where the wood 
road wound among trees five to eight feet through, their bare trunks 
rising a hundred to a hundred and fifty feet to the first branch; one tree 
that was measured after being cut reaching a hundred and seventy- 
five feet to the first branch. 
In this stand of timber the spaces between the great boles were 
filled in only with cedars, from whose smooth flat leaves the sunlight 
seemed to slide off, and with low deciduous maples, both the vine and 
the Oregon, that caught the sun in their vivid green tops. In this won¬ 
derful forest the cheery bubbling song of the winter wren which crept 
around over stumps and logs was very grateful, harmonizing well with 
the patches of vivid sunlight. 
In still another part of the forest, reached by a trail from the bloom¬ 
ing prairie park where the nighthawks boomed at sunset, the friend 
who had shown me the hunting grounds of the water-ouzels up the 
river took me to see what was known as “Uncle’s Woods,’’ a stand of 
timber owned by an old man, one of the most respected and best loved 
characters of the region. 
As we wandered about among the great Sitka spruces we heard the 
familiar voice of the little brown woodlander. Following him across a 
green carpet, where at each step we sank deep in the moss, we came to 
a big log covered with moss and ferns leading to a tree whose great base 
was heavily cushioned with the brownish green moss for which these 
humid forests are famous. The branches were hung with bulging pock¬ 
ets that suggested one of the canopied winter wrens’ nests found in 
another part of the woods, a green nest made wholly of the fresh moss 
except for its reinforcement of springy twiglets that made an especially 
good frame for the round doorway. Instinctively I started to examine 
the bulging pockets, but as so many offered good nesting sites I soon 
realized that the search might be endless, and the woods were already 
dusky. 
Meanwhile, wherever his house was hidden, the brown mite of 
which I had caught only aggravating glimpses, suspiciously refused to 
do more than answer me from the dark recesses of the woods, retreating 
as if to lead me away. As I peered vainly through the shadows in his 
direction under the high dark conifers a low deciduous tree stood out, 
fairly glowing green as if it had focused all the light now entering the 
darkening forest. Beyond it stood green-leafed alders and maples draped 
heavily with the golden brown moss. A wondrous forest home the little 
wren had chosen for himself! As we started away and once more 
crossed the mossy carpet the bird, so suggestively silent before, burst 
