THE GOLDEN-CRESTED WREN.
We have here the Golden-crested Wren—the _Regulus cristatus_
of naturalists—the tiniest of our British birds, “the pleasing
fairy-bird,” as Bewick calls it, one of the large family of warblers,
and a near relation to Jenny Wren. It is a very charming little bird,
with a sweet melodious song of its own, and so many curious little ways
that it is well worth everybody’s notice and everybody’s love.
It is very active and lively, always in motion, fluttering from branch
to branch, and running up and down the trunks and limbs of trees, in
search of insects on which it lives. It may as often be seen on the
under as on the upper side of a branch, with its back downwards, like
a fly on a ceiling, and so running along, all alert, as merry and busy
as possible. In size it is about three inches, that is with all its
feathers on, but its little body alone is not above an inch long; yet
in this little body, and in this little brain, lives an amazing amount
of character, as I shall show you, as well as a great deal of amusing
conceit and pertness which you would hardly believe unless you were
told.
[Illustration:
GOLDEN-CRESTED WRENS AND NEST. [Page 70.
]
The colour of the bird is a sort of yellowish olive-green, the under
part of pale, reddish-white, tinged with green on the sides; the quill
feathers of the wing are dusky, edged with pale green, as are also
the tail feathers. Thus attired by nature, that is, by the great
Creator who cares for all His creatures, this little bird, creeping
and fluttering about the branches and bole of the leafy summer tree,
can scarcely be distinguished from the tree itself: hence it is that
the bird is so unfamiliar to most people. The he-bird, however, has
a little distinguishing glory of his own—a crest of golden-coloured
feathers, bordered on each side with black, like a sort of eye-brow to
his bright hazel eyes. This crest, which gives him his distinguished
name, can be erected at pleasure, when he is full of life and
enjoyment, or when he chooses to lord it over birds ten times as big as
himself.
[Sidenote: _The Lively Gambols of this Bird._]
It is worth anybody’s while, who has a love for the innocent denizens
of nature, and no desire to do them harm, to go into a wood on a
summer’s day on purpose to watch the doings of this lively little bird
amongst the tree-branches. Fir-woods are the best for this purpose, as
this bird has an especial liking for these trees, and ten to one, if
you will only be patient and quite still, you may soon see him at work
busily looking after his dinner, running along the branches, up one and
down another, then like a little arrow off to the next tree, scudding
along its branches, then back again, up and down, round and round
the bole, going like a little fire, so rapid are his movements; now
running up aloft, now hanging head downward, now off again in another
direction. What a wonderful activity there is in that little body! He
must devour hundreds of insects, as well as their eggs, which he thus
seeks for under the scaly roughnesses of the bark, and finding, devours.
Pretty as he is, his nest, of which Mr. Harrison Weir has given a most
accurate drawing, is quite worthy of him. It is always the same, swung
like a little hammock from a branch, and always hidden, it may be by
leaves or a bunch of fir-cones. The cordage by which it is suspended
is of his own weaving, and is made of the same materials as the nest,
which are moss and slender thread-like roots. In form it is oval, as
you see, with a hole for entrance at the side, and is lined with the
softest down and fibrous roots. It is a lovely little structure, like
a soft ball of moss, within which the mother-bird lays from six to a
dozen tiny eggs, scarcely bigger than peas, the delicate shell of which
will hardly bear handling. The colour of the egg is white, sprinkled
over with the smallest of dull-coloured spots.
Mr. Jesse describes one of these lovely nests which was taken from the
slender branches of a fir-tree where it had been suspended, as usual,
by means of delicate cordage, secured to the branch by being twisted
round and round, and then fastened to the edge or rim of the nest,
so that one may be sure that the making and securing of these tiny
ropes must be the first work of the clever little artizan. The nest
thus suspended sways lightly to and fro with the movement of the bird.
We cannot see in our cut the slender ropes that suspend it; they are
concealed under the thick foliage; but we can easily see what a dainty
little structure it is.
[Sidenote: _The Jackdaw and Mischievous Wrens._]
Delicate and lovely as is this bird, and pleasing and harmless as is
his life, he yet possesses some curious traits of character, as I
said. For instance, though so small, with a body only an inch long,
he has, apparently, a wonderful conceit of himself, and loves to be
lord and master of creatures that will not dispute with him, as not
worth their while, or perhaps because there really is some inherent
mastership in him by which he contrives, under certain circumstances,
to rule over them. In proof of this, I will tell you what the Rev. J.
G. Wood relates from the experience of a lady, a friend of his. One
severe winter, when she had housed and fed a number of birds, amongst
which were a jackdaw, a magpie, two skylarks, a goldfinch, and a robin,
in a warm aviary, feeding them regularly and abundantly, other birds
came, of course, to partake of the plentiful feast, and amongst them
two golden-crested wrens. These little things made themselves not
only quite at home, but lorded it over the other birds in the most
extraordinary way possible. For instance, if the jackdaw had possessed
himself of a nice morsel which he was holding down with his foot to
eat comfortably, and the golden-crested wren had also set his mind on
it, he hopped on the jackdaw’s head and pecked in his eye, on the side
where his foot held the delicacy. On this the poor jackdaw instantly
lifted his foot to his head where he thought something was amiss, and
the mischievous little fellow snatched up the treasure and was off. At
first the jackdaw would pursue him in great wrath, but he soon learned
that it was no use, for the creature would only jump upon his back
where he could not reach him, and so was safe from punishment. “Before
the winter was over,” continues the lady, “the little gold-crests were
masters of all the birds, and even roosted at night on their backs;
finding, no doubt, that in this way they could keep their little feet
much warmer than on a perch.”
Conceited and dominant, however, as these little birds may be, they are
yet either extremely timid, or their nervous system is so delicately
constituted, that a sudden fright kills them. Thus if, when they are
all alert and busy on the tree-branch, seeking for insects and fearing
no evil, the branch be suddenly struck with a stick, the poor bird
falls dead to the ground. The shock has killed it. It has received no
apparent injury—not a feather is ruffled—but its joyous, innocent
life is gone for ever. This fact is asserted by Gilbert White, and was
proved by my husband, who brought me home the bird which had thus died.
[Illustration]