BUSH WREN 145 
that so small a creature would enter its nesting 
quarters by so vast a cavity. The Petrel passage 
was not, however, followed far, the Wren re- 
linquishing it for some infinitesimal tunnel passing 
upwards into the roots of the fern clump which 
thereabouts covered many yards of ground. 
A third nest was found in the rotting centre of 
a half-dead green tupari—a small tree which in 
its fall had been wrenched and twisted, and was 
seamed with longitudinal cracks. 
Nothing at first did more to mislead us than 
the Wren’s toleration of dampness in its nesting 
site. With most species dryness is a prime con- 
sideration: hollows, holes, and crannies in the 
least degree moist or clammy are eschewed. 
Wetness it is impossible always to avoid, but 
nearly all species secure as perfect drainage as 
possible, in rainy districts even seeming to select 
vegetation that rapidly dries itself. A musty 
air in the neighbourhood of eggs is in fact pecu- 
liarly objectionable. Not one, however, of the 
three nesting sites described was other than 
damp; one was actually wet. After every shower, 
into the nest in the ironwood bole, dry feathers 
were carried in and wet feathers taken out; after 
every shower in the nest built amongst the fern 
roots, wet feathers were replaced by dry. The 
nest in the tupari trunk was the most sodden of 
all, pressed, as it were, against green wet wood, 
K 
