hold of
the tip end of a branch and drew it down to look at the nest full of
young chippies. "They're about ready to fly," she remarked calmly; and
at that instant the branch was released, sprang up, and four young birds
were suddenly tossed out upon the world. They sailed through the air,
too much surprised to use their wings, and dropped back into the tree,
which fortunately was a thick evergreen. The "Discourager's" face
displayed a mixture of horror and shame that was very droll. She _said_
the twig broke, but in the light of her behavior to the wrens, and her
avowed pleasure in stirring birds up to see what they would do, I must
say I have my suspicions, especially when I remember that that was the
second family whose minds she had made up for them that week.

[Illustration: CUDDLED UP TOGETHER ON A LOG--THE WINTER WREN]

[Sidenote: _THE WOODS EMPTY._]

After about ten days of watching the wren family, we lost their lively
chirpings, the witching song ceased, the place seemed empty of wren
life, and our charming acquaintance with them a thing to be remembered
only. At least so we sadly thought, till nearly the end of July, when,
on sauntering through the old paths for almost the last time (for me),
we heard once more the familiar music, as full, as fresh, as bewitching,
as in the spring. We sought the singer, eager to see as well as hear.
After a tramp over underbrush and through a swamp, we saw him,--the same
delightful bird, so far as we could tell; certainly he had sung the
exact song that charmed us in early June. He had probably trained and
started out in life his five babies, and now had time as well as
inclination to sing again.

During the three days that were left of my stay I heard the enchanting
voice every time I went into the woods,

"Chaunting his low impassioned vesper-hymn,
Clear as the silver treble of a stream."

V.

WHIMSICAL WAYS IN BIRD-LAND.

"O irritant, iterant, maddening bird!"

One lovely evening in May, I was walking down a quiet road, looking, as
usual, for birds, when all at once there burst upon the sweet silence a
loud alarm. "Chack! chack! chack! too! too! t-t-t! quawk! quawk!" at the
top of somebody's loud resonant voice, as if the whole bird-world had
suddenly gone mad. I looked about, expecting to see a general rush to
the spot; but, to my surprise, no one seemed to notice it. A catbird on
the fence went on with his bewitching song, and a wood thrush in th