Ea wee UB ON BU ELE EDN “GS 
House Wren vs. Bewick’s Wren 
A Tragedy in Bird Life 
| ee several years the Jenny Wrens had occupied a wren house just 
under the porch roof. The children were much impressed with Mrs. 
Jenny’s short energetic tail and her explosions of song, and each 
spring we watched for her coming. 
One year, at least a week earlier than usual, the children came to me 
with the news that Jenny had come back but something had happened to 
her tail. I immediately searched through my bird books and discovered 
that this serene individual with its tranquil song and habits was our 
first Bewick’s Wren. 
For two years the Bewick’s wren came, yet we were never able to see 
the young birds take their first lesson in flying, instead they “‘melted”’ 
from our notice. The third year we decided we would make it our busi- 
ness to supervise the “‘flitting.’”” One morning we were terribly shocked 
to find six tiny bare Bewick babies on the cold cement floor of the porch, 
about six feet from the nest. We were entirely at loss to know what had 
happened as the nest was so sheltered that even a freak gust of wind 
could not have blown the birds from the nest. We picked them up and 
returned them to the nest, and went to church. 
When we came home the six babies were again scattered over the porch 
floor and were almost lifeless. To solve the mystery we again restored 
them to the nest in the wren box and stationed ourselves well back in the 
room where we could see and not be seen. We did not have to wait long. 
Jenny came back suddenly, and when she discovered the little Bewicks 
in the nest she went into an ecstasy of rage, and working rapidly and 
furiously she brought out one after another the entire family of Bewicks, 
slamming them down on the floor or flinging them off into space. 
Next she removed the feather lining of the nest with even greater 
energy, and lastly the twig foundation. This was done without hesitation. 
Then from a perch she spied her victims and down she pounced to 
slam each one down again and again; returning to the perch she again 
flew down to peck the little dead offenders who had occupied Aer house 
without a lease. Not until next morning did we see the parents, who 
together slipped into the rose bush near by, and only peered into the 
corner where the tragedy occurred. 
I think the opinion of all of us was aptly worded by my small weeping 
daughter, who said “‘Oh how could she mother, when we loved her so? 
I just can’t help loving her, but I can never respect her again.”’ 
Mrs. CLARENCE W. HuGHEs, 
3432 Western Avenue, 
Mattoon, Illinois. 
