52 
BY THE WAYSIDE. 
Boscobel, Wis. 
Dear Wayside: —A bluejay is a very in¬ 
teresting bird to study. The other day I was 
standing near a large tree and I heard a noise. 
It sounded like two parrots chattering together 
in their own language. I looked up in the 
tree and saw about a half a dozen bluejays. 
They were having some kind of conversation. 
They would hop from branch to branch chat¬ 
tering all the time. They seemed to be scolding 
each other. The bluejay is about 11 inches 
long. It does not migrate south in winter, 
but stays in these regions. They lay up food 
in the fall for winter. And I think some times 
they steal of the woodpeckers when their food 
gives out. It does not have much of a song 
in the winter, but in summer it has a very 
pleasant note. It nests once a year. The eggs 
are green with brown dots. It lays about five 
eggs. 
Arthur A. Dennis, age 13 years. 
From Mrs. Wheelock’s Nestlings of Forest 
and Marsh, we take this account of the Marsh 
Wren, which should be especially interesting 
to Wisconsin children, as this is the dainty, 
saucy little bird that appears on their button. 
“The nest we had chosen to watch was in 
the center of a little island of rushes separate 
from the main marsh by a passage just wide 
enough to punt a duekboat through. Here 
we lay, partly concealed, while the anxious 
little father scolded and sang by turns, and 
tuen, with deliberate intention to deceive, com¬ 
menced to build a dummy nest in full view 
of us. Evidently his heart was not in his work, 
or our presence made him nervous, for it was 
not well done and he left it one-third completed 
to commence another a few feet farther away. 
This was repeated day after day, until four 
had been started and two finished in a radius 
of ten feet by the same industrious builder. 
All the material brought was wet, having just 
been picked from the water. 
“Not once did he go near his real treasure. 
The four beautiful tiny brown eggs were housed 
in the oldest, most tumble-down house of them 
all. One would never suspect it of being select¬ 
ed for a home among so many fresh green ones. 
The doorway was on the inland side, so that 
it looked to he only a ball of dried water-grass 
among the rushes. The doors of the dummy 
nests, on the contrary, were usually in plain 
view from the lake and invited inspection. 
“It took fifteen days for the eggs to hatch, 
and afterwards such a long, long time before 
the first downy head peeped through the door¬ 
way. The mother was not a close sitter, 
whether because of our presence or because 
she knew the warm sun would help in her task. 
It was certainly steaming inside that round 
ball, and the tiny eggs felt like hot pebbles 
to my prying fingers. She left for two hours 
at a time, and this, with an open nest in a 
tree, would certainly prove fatal to the eggs 
after incubation had begun. . . . 
“On the morning the first egg hatched, . 
♦ 
we cautiously pushed up to the doorway, and 
on finding there were young, cut a slit in the 
top of the nest to look at them. Four naked 
pinky nestlings, with wee heads, mere knobs 
for eyes, and buds for wings, lay cuddled down 
within. After satisfying our curiosity, we 
tied the slit up with rushes and left them. 
Before we could push the boat away, the little 
mother had entered the nest, not two feet away 
from us. 
“As in the case of most young birds, we 
had to teach them to perch, and a comical task 
it was. The tiny claws had never learned to 
clasp, and yet by instinct they fastened to tlie 
rushes, and the little ball of down tried to 
balance itself on its uncertain little legs. 
They liked to cuddle down on our fingers or 
hop up my arm to the shoulder, and took es¬ 
pecial delight in hiding inside my shirt-waist 
sleeve, entering at the wrist, which the heat 
had compelled me to unfasten. 
“During the hour or two we were playing 
with the babies, the father and mother re¬ 
mained within a few feet, calling somewhat 
anxiously, but not greatly alarmed. I held 
a little one out on my hand and went almost 
up to the mother before she took wing. Had 
not the great heat (106 degrees) driven us 
out of the marsh, 1 am sure more patience in 
waiting would have conquered her fear of me, 
and she would have fed him on my hand. Be¬ 
fore we were four feet away, she had returned 
to them with a fat June bug in her beak, and 
all was serene again in the little home.” 
Dear Wayside: —I saw a robin redbreast, 
lie was in a cherry tree. He was eating cher-' 
l ies. Robins like cherries. Robins build their 
nests with strings and mud and hay. Robins’ 
eggs are blue. Robins lay four eggs. 
Eddie Bauer, age 11. 
