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Many people have seen him throwing from the nest the eggs of his 
own species. In fact, egg-throwing throughout the summer seems to be 
his main diversion. Egg-shells will answer if the whole eggs are want- 
ing. An instance of this kind happened in my building erected to sup- 
port a chimney for Chimney Swift occupants. Birds are excluded from 
its lower portion in which are stored various things, among them a 
Shrike’s nest, containing the shells of eggs that had been blown. By 
accident a House Wren gained entrance to this room and was found 
there. Every shell of the Shrike’s eggs had been carried from the nest 
and thrown to the floor. Some of the shells were not badly broken and 
all were returned to the nest. A few days later the wren again entered, 
again was found there, and again the egg-shells were scattered over 
the floor. The gentle Phoebe not infrequently is a victim of the wren’s 
viciousness: her eggs are pierced and thrown out and her nests are torn 
down. One of her nests, not in use, built on top of a porch post was 
completely destroyed by a House Wren. He carried off the material 
but made no use of it. In a similar manner has he been seen tearing to 
pieces the nest of an English Sparrow, also to enter one of these nests 
and steal the feathers of its lining. 
Mr. Widmann laid stress on the destruction of open nests by this 
wren, and Mr. Ridgway has given an account of the great decrease of 
several small species of birds, such as the Baltimore Oriole, Yellow 
Warbler and Warbling Vireo in his neighborhood. He does not say 
that two minus two leaves nothing, but I have the hardihood to say that 
it does: that two birds minus their two eggs leaves nothing for annual 
increase or replacement; that this loss repeated year after year soon 
brings a species to the verge of extinction. One has but to recall how 
soon the English Sparrow has nearly wiped out the Cliff Swallows and 
the Barn Swallows in places where formerly they were exceedingly 
numerous. He does not declare, as does Mr. Widmann, that much of 
this damage can be traced to the door of Jennie Wren, but I have the 
boldness to declare that I know it to be the truth. The state of things 
about Olney, Illinois, parallels so closely that of a deserted village, 
that something other than a coincident must be the explanation for 
it. Twenty-five years ago this small community, before the coming of 
the House Wrens, was a paradise for many birds; Baltimore Orioles 
and Warbling Vireos swung their nests in the trees, Chipping Spar- 
rows built in the bushes, and the Maryland Yellowthroat nested in the 
dooryards. Gradually people moved away, taking with them their 
cats and their bad boys; for eight summers not a Blue Jay was seen; 
chicken yards having been abandoned the English Sparrow went off to 
the farms; no doubt, all would have continued well with the little birds 
if the House Wren had not arrived; he took possession of the boxes 
placed for Chickadees and Bluebirds as well as numerous holes in old 
buildings; he flourished mightily, and as his tribe increased the other 
