ts had nothing like the work of the robin, oriole,
or blue jay. They came two or three times, and then left for half an
hour or more, yet the younglings were never impatient for food.

The morning that the young wrens had reached the age of twelve days
(that we knew of) was the 22d of July, and the weather was intensely
warm. On the 21st we had watched all day to see them go, sure that they
were perfectly well able. Obviously it is the policy of this family to
prepare for a life of extraordinary activity by an infancy of unusual
stillness. Never were youngsters so perfectly indifferent to all the
world. In storm or sunshine, in daylight or darkness, they lay there
motionless, caring only for food, and even that showed itself only by
the fact that all mouths were toward the front. The under one of the
pile seemed entirely contented to be at the bottom, and the top ones not
to exult in their position; in fact, so far as any show of interest in
life was concerned, they might have been a nestful of wooden babies.

On this morning, as we dragged ourselves wearily over the hot road to
the ravine, we resolved that no handful of wrenlings should force us
over that road again. Go off this day they should, if--as my comrade
remarked--"we had to raise them by hand." My first call was at the nest,
indifferent whether parents were there or not, for I had become
desperate. There they lay, lazily blinking at me, and filling the nest
overfull. The singer came rushing down a branch, bristled up,
blustering, and calling "Dear-r-r-r!" at me, and I hoped he would be
induced to hurry up his very leisurely brood.

We took our usual seats and waited. Both parents remained near the
homestead, and little singing was indulged in; this morning there was
serious business on hand, as any one could see. We were desirous of
seeing the first sign of movement, so we resolved to cut away the last
few leaves that hid the entrance to the nest. We had not done it before,
partly not to annoy the birds, and partly not to have them too easily
discovered by prowlers.

Miss R---- went to the stump, and cut away half a dozen leaves and twigs
directly before their door. The young ones looked at her, but did not
move. Then, as I had asked her to do, she pointed a parasol directly at
the spot, so that I, in my distant seat, might locate the nest exactly.
This seemed to be the last straw that the birdlings could endure; two of
them flew off. One went five or six