18 TH sA0UD UB ONS 620 Lik ie 
Museum in 1908 and from the okservations of Prof. Spicer, 
Everret Shaw and others of our city since, it is probable that 
our parks are visited by two hundred species. I found one 
rarity in my own door yard, the Florida Meadow Lark. It 
came here about thirty years ago, returning every spring, and 
sang from a tall tree top again yesterday. It is so dark in 
color that it is nearly black. In music perhaps this bird is an 
imitator. A rival of the Thrasher it has tones of its own. In 
the morning or evening concert we hear notes of the Wren, 
the Red Wing and our own Meadow Lark, with many others I 
do not recognize. The western Meadow Lark pours out a 
joyous, exultant greeting, but the Fioridian is more modest, 
more refined, a violinist, not a horn blower. Come and hear 
him, +4 JAMES H. FERRISS 
A Silly W ren, A True Story 
A few years ago I spent the spring with a brother who lived 
onafarm. At that time I was doing transcribing for one of the 
large libraries for the Blind. I had put up two shelves on which 
to keep my books, writing materials and other things. 
One morning I went to take down my writing case, and to 
my surprise, I found a bird’s nest lying on top of it. I tossed it 
out of the window. Later on that morning I told my sister-in- 
law of it. She laughed and said it must be the work of a Wren 
she had seen in my room. 
The next day I received a letter from a friend residing in a 
nearby town informing me that several families had mattress- 
making (my work) which they wished done at once. 
I was away from home a week. The morning following my 
return, when I went to put on a pair of pants which I had hung 
under the shelves, I felt some dry leaves and twigs lying in the 
seat. I shook them up well. While I was doing so I felt two sharp 
blows on the side of my head. A moment later the family rushed 
into my room. They had heard a cry and thought it was one of 
~ the children. On the floor lay a torn bird’s nest, while on a 
branch of a peach tree which grew near the open window was 
perched a Wren. She had built her nest in my pants during my 
absence. After breakfast I re-arranged my books being careful to 
leave a dark recess behind a small box in which I kept a few 
things which I could easily take out without making any noise. 
A few days later I was told that the Wren was building 
another nest in my room. But this time she had selected a more 
suitable place. It was not disturbed and she hatched and raised 
her offspring in peace. } 
This contribution from Mr. W. F. Brown, of New Orleans, is 
sent in by Mrs. E. G. Trowbridge of Winnetka. This experience 
of Mr. Brown’s is the more interesting because he has neither 
sight nor hearing, and therefore had to borrow the ears and 
eyes of others to supplement his sense of touch. 
