"Ruffled with whirlwind of his ecstasies,"
which must have been the wren, as I know of no other bird that so
throbs and palpitates with music as this little vagabond. And the pair
I speak of seemed exceptionally happy, and the male had a small
tornado of song in his crop that kept him "ruffled" every moment in
the day. But before their honeymoon was over the bluebirds returned. I
knew something was wrong before I was up in the morning. Instead of
that voluble and gushing song outside the window, I heard the wrens
scolding and crying at a fearful rate, and on going out saw the
bluebirds in possession of the box. The poor wrens were in despair;
they wrung their hands and tore their hair, after the wren fashion,
but chiefly did they rattle out their disgust and wrath at the
intruders. I have no doubt that, if it could have been interpreted, it
would have proven the rankest and most voluble Billingsgate ever
uttered. For the wren is saucy, and he has a tongue in his head that
can outwag any other tongue known to me.
The bluebirds said nothing, but the male kept an eye on Mr. Wren; and,
when he came to near, gave chase, driving him to cover under the
fence, or under a rubbish heap or other object, where the wren would
scold and rattle away, while his pursuer sat on the fence or the
pea-brush waiting for him to reappear.
Days passed, and the usurpers prospered and the outcasts were
wretched; but the latter lingered about, watching and abusing their
enemies, and hoping, no doubt, that things would take a turn, as they
presently did. The outraged wrens were fully avenged. The mother
bluebird had laid her full complement of eggs and was beginning to
set, when one day, as her mate was perched above her on the barn,
along came a boy with one of those wicked elastic slings and cut him
down with a pebble. There he lay like a bit of sky fallen upon the
grass. The widowed bird seemed to understand what had happened, and
without much ado disappeared next day in quest of another mate. How
she contrived to make her wants known, without trumpeting them about,
I am unable to say. But I presume that birds have a way of advertising
that answers the purpose well. Maybe she trusted to luck to fall in
with some stray bachelor or bereaved male who would undertake to
console a widow or one day's standing. I will say, in passing, that
there are no bachelors from choice among the birds; they are all
rejected suitors, while old maids are entirely unknown. There is a
Jack to every Jill; and some to boot.
The males, being more exposed by their song and plumage, and by being
the pioneers in migrating, seem to be slightly in excess lest the
supply fall short, and hence it sometimes happens that a few are
bachelors perforce; there are not females enough to go around, but
before the season is over there are sure to be some vacancies in the
marital ranks, which they are called on to fill.
In the mean time the wrens were beside themselves with delight; they
fairly screamed with joy. If the male was before "ruffled with
whirlwind of his ecstasies," he was now in danger of being rent
asunder. He inflated his throat and caroled as wren never caroled
before. And the female, too, how she cackled and darted about! How
busy they both were! Rushing into the nest, they hustled those eggs
out in less than a minute, wren time. They carried in new material,
and by the third day were fairly installed again in their old
headquarters; but on the third day, so rapidly are these little dramas
played, the female bluebird reappeared with another mate. Ah! how the
wren stock went down then! What dismay and despair filled again those
little breasts! It was pitiful. They did not scold as before, but
after a day or two withdrew from the garden, dumb with grief, and gave
up the struggle.
The bluebird, finding her eggs gone and her nest changed, seemed
suddenly seized with alarm and shunned the box; or else, finding she
had less need for another husband than she thought, repented her
rashness and wanted to dissolve the compact. But the happy bridegroom
would not take the hint, and exerted all his eloquence to comfort and
reassure her. He was fresh and fond, and until this bereaved female
found him I am sure his suit had not prospered that season. He thought
the box just the thing, and that there was no need of alarm, and spent
days in trying to persuade the female back. Seeing he could not be a
stepfather to a family, he was quite willing to assume a nearer
relation. He hovered about the box, he went in and out, he called, he
warbled, he entreated; the female would respond occasionally and come
and alight near, and even peep into the nest, but would not enter it,
and quickly flew away again. Her mate would reluctantly follow, but he
was soon back, uttering the most confident and cheering calls. If she
did not come he would perch above the nest and sound his loudest notes
over and over again, looking in the direction of his mate and
beckoning with every motion. But she responded less and less
frequently. Some days I would see him only, but finally he gave it up;
the pair disappeared, and the box remained deserted the rest of the
summer.
1867