My song consists of all the notes
That flow from feathered songsters’ throats;
My heart is thrilled with all their pain,
Their sorrow, love, and joy again.
They have but taken of my song
A measure, which they warble long.
So let my protest now be heard—
O call me not a Mocking-bird!
—Hildane Harrington.
THE SHORT-BILLED MARSH WREN.
(_Cistothorus stellaris._)
Because of its shy and retiring disposition and its apparent dislike to
take wing the Short-billed Marsh Wren is not very often seen. It is
usually found closely associated with its first cousin, the long-billed
marsh wren, from which it is distinguished by the markings on the back
and its short bill.
It inhabits the reeds and tall grass of our marshes of the central
states and ranges as far north as Massachusetts and Manitoba to as far
west as Utah.
After spending the winter in the southern states it reaches this
locality about the last of April or the first of May. The marshes which
it inhabits prevent close observation. But the fact that nests have been
found with eggs in as early as the last week of May indicates it arrives
about the last of April.
The nest is a loose, globular affair situated in the top of a tussock of
grass or in rushes some twelve or eighteen inches above the ground or
water. It is composed of coarse grass closely interwoven with fine
blades and fibers, making a compact structure. The inner part is lined
with fine materials, such as soft down, cat-tail blossoms, etc. At one
side, sometimes ingeniously hidden, is a small round entrance. The nest
resembles very closely that of its first cousin in shape and location,
but can easily be recognized by the eggs, which are pure white.
This little bird sometimes builds a number of nests, but lays eggs in
but one. Whether it does this because it enjoys the occupation, or for
the purpose of producing a “blind,” no one can say. A number will nest
in the same locality, thus forming quite a colony.
Its song is quite different from that of the long-billed. Mr. Gault
says: “In the manner of delivery it forcibly reminds one of the song of
the dickcissel, although, of course, it is not near as loud. They are
quite shy, but would allow one to approach within forty or fifty feet of
them, when they would dart down into the thick grass, from which it was
almost impossible to dislodge them.”
Mr. Washburn, in speaking of this bird in the Red River valley, gives
some interesting accounts of its peculiarities. “In a large marsh * * *
I found a colony of these wrens, which by my presence was thrown into
most excitable activity. They are at a disadvantage when on the wing,
these appendages seeming scarcely able to support their obese bodies,
for they fly as though weighted like a bee returning to a hive heavily
laden. Instinctively they fly toward the friendly support of some tall
weed where, as if feeling more secure on their feet than in the air,
they resume their antics, hanging their heads downward, twirling their
tails, jumping from one weed to another, and each bird apparently
communicating its restlessness to its neighbor, until the whole colony
is in a state of ferment. They do not alight gracefully like most birds,
but seem to tumble into the weeds.”
Unless one is very cautious and persevering he is not able to observe
the activity of these wee bits of bird life. He can wade into their very
midst and can hear them chattering within a few feet of him without
seeing them or at the best getting but a glimpse of one. But if he
conceals himself and remains quiet for perhaps a half hour his efforts
may be rewarded.
Ilk happy bird, wee helpless thing,
That in the weary months o’ spring
Delight me to hear thee sing,
What’s come o’ thee?
Where wilt thou cower thy chittering wing
And close thy e’e?
—Burns.
J. Rollin Slonaker.
[Illustration: SHORT-BILLED MARSH WREN.
(Cistothorus stellaris.)
Life-size
FROM COL. CHI. ACAD. SCIENCES.]