certainly the most remarkable fact connected with its history. At the
approach of winter it leaves its northern retreats, perhaps in Labrador
or Newfoundland, crosses the inlets of the Gulf of St Lawrence on tiny
concave wings, and betakes itself to warmer regions, where it remains
until the beginning of spring. Playfully and with alacrity it performs
the task, hopping from one stump or fallen log to another, flitting
from twig to twig, from bush to bush, here and there flying a few
yards; feeding, singing, and bustling on, as if quite careless as to
time or distance. It has reached the shore of some broad stream, and
here a person ignorant of its habits might suppose it would be stopped;
but no, it spreads its wings, and glides over like a meteor.
I have found the Winter Wren in the lower parts of Louisiana, and in
the Floridas, in December and January, but never saw one there after
the end of the latter month. Their stay in those parts rarely exceeds
three months; two more are employed in forming a nest and rearing
their broods; and as they leave Labrador by the middle of August
at the latest, they probably spend more than half of the year in
travelling. It would be interesting to know whether those which breed
along the Columbia River, near the Pacific Ocean, visit the shores
of our Atlantic States. My friend THOMAS NUTTALL informs me that he
occasionally saw the Winter Wren feeding its young in the woods, along
the north-west coast.
At Eastport, in Maine, when on my way to Labrador, I found this species
in full song, and extremely abundant, although the air was chill, and
icicles hung from every rock, it being then the 9th of May. On the 11th
of June, I found it equally plentiful in the Magdalene Islands, and
wondered how it could have made its way there, but was assured by the
inhabitants that none were ever seen in winter. On the 20th of July, I
met with it at Labrador, and again asked myself, how it could possibly
have reached those remote and rugged shores? Was it by following the
course of the St Lawrence, or by flying from one island to another
across the Gulf? I have seen it in almost every State of the Union,
but only twice found it breeding there, once near the Mohawk River in
New York, and again in the Great Pine Swamp in Pennsylvania. It breeds
abundantly in Maine, and probably in Massachusetts, but few spend the
winter even in the latter State.
The song of the Winter Wren excels that of any other bird of its size
with which I am acquainted. It is truly musical, lull of cadence,
energetic, and melodious; its very continuance is surprising, and dull
indeed must be the ear that thrills not on hearing it. When emitted, as
it often is, from the dark depths of the unwholesome swamp, it operates
so powerfully on the mind, that it by contrast inspires a feeling of
wonder and delight, and on such occasions has usually impressed me with
a sense of the goodness of the Almighty Creator, who has rendered every
spot of earth in some way subservient to the welfare if his creatures.
Once when travelling through a portion of the most gloomy part of
a thick and tangled wood, in the Great Pine Forest, not far from
Maunchunk in Pennsylvania, at a time when I was intent on guarding
myself against the venomous reptiles which I expected to encounter,
the sweet song of this Wren came suddenly on my ear, and with so
cheering an effect, that I instantly lost all apprehension of danger,
and pressed forward through the rank briars and stiff laurels, in
pursuit of the bird, which I hoped was not far from its nest. But
he, as if bent on puzzling me, rambled here and there among the
thickest bushes with uncommon cunning, now singing in one spot not
far distant, and presently in another in a different direction. After
much exertion and considerable fatigue, I at last saw it alight on
the side of a large tree, close to the roots, and heard it warble a
few notes, which I thought exceeded any it had previously uttered.
Suddenly another Wren appeared by its side, but darted off in a moment,
and the bird itself which I had followed disappeared. I soon reached
the spot, without having for an instant removed my eyes from it, and
observed a protuberance covered with moss and lichens, resembling
those excrescences which are often seen on our forest trees, with this
difference, that the aperture was perfectly rounded, clean, and quite
smooth. I put a finger into it, and felt the pecking of a bird’s bill,
while a querulous cry was emitted. In a word, I had, the first time
in my life, found the nest of our Winter Wren. Having gently forced
the tenant from his premises, I drew out the eggs with a sort of scoop
which I formed. I expected to find them numerous, but there were not
more than six, and the same number I afterwards found in the only other
nest of this species ever discovered by me. The little bird called upon
its mate, and their united clamour induced me to determine upon leaving
their treasures with them; but just as I was about going off, it struck
me that I ought to take a description of the nest, as I might not
again have such an opportunity. I hope, Reader, you will believe that
when I resolved to sacrifice this nest, it was quite as much on your
account as my own. Externally it measured seven inches in length, four
and a half in breadth; the thickness of its walls, composed of moss
and lichen, was nearly two inches; and thus it presented internally
the appearance of a narrow bag, the wall, however, being reduced to a
few lines where it was in contact with the bark of the tree. The lower
half of the cavity was compactly lined with the fur of the American
Hare, and in the bottom or bed of the nest there lay over this about
half a dozen of the large downy abdominal feathers of our Common Grous,
_Tetrao Umbellus_. The eggs were of a delicate blush-colour, somewhat
resembling the paler leaves of a partially decayed rose, and marked
with dots of reddish-brown, more numerous towards the larger end.
The nest which I found near the Mohawk was discovered by mere accident.
One day in the beginning of June, and about noon, feeling fatigued,
I sat down on a rock overhanging the water, where, while resting,
I might have the pleasure of watching the motions of some fishes in
sight. The damp of the place produced a sudden chillness, and caused
me to sneeze aloud, when from beneath my feet there flew off a Winter
Wren. The nest, which I soon found, was attached to the lower parts
of the rock, and presented the same form and structure as that already
described; but it was smaller, the eggs, six in number, contained young
far advanced.
The motions of this interesting bird are performed with great rapidity
and decision. While searching for food it hops, creeps, and leaps about
from one spot to another, as if it derived pleasure from exercise. At
each movement it bends its breast downward, so as almost to touch the
object on which it stands, and by a sudden extension of its strong
feet, aided by the action of its half drooping concave wings, jerks
itself forward, keeping its tail elevated all the while. Now through
a hollow log it passes like a mouse, now it clings to the surface in
various attitudes, suddenly disappears, but presently shews itself
by your side; at times it chirrups in a querulous rolling tone, then
emits single clear sharp chirps resembling the syllables _tshick_,
_tshick_, and again remains silent for a time. It will now and then
reach the upper branches of a small tree or a bush, by hopping and
leaping from twig to twig; in the course of this transit it will
present its opposite sides to you a score of times; and when at length
it has gained the summit, it will salute you with its delicate melody,
and then dash headlong and be out of sight in a moment. This is almost
constantly observed during the spring season, when more than ever its
alertness is displayed. On all such occasions however, whilst in the
act of singing, its tail is seen to be depressed. In winter, when it
takes possession of the wood-pile, close to the husbandman’s dwelling,
it will challenge the cat in querulous tones, and peeping out here and
there, as it frisks in security, wear out Grimalkin’s patience.
The food of the Winter Wren consists chiefly of spiders, caterpillars,
and small moths, as well as larvæ. Towards autumn it eats small juicy
berries.
Having lately spent a winter, at Charleston in South Carolina, with my
worthy friend JOHN BACHMAN, I observed that this little Wren made its
appearance in that city and its suburbs in December. On the 1st January
I heard it in full song in the garden of my friend, who informed me
that in that State it does not appear regularly every winter, but is
sure to be found during very cold weather.
With the view of enabling you to compare the habits of our Winter Wren
and the Common Wren of Europe, the manners of birds being a subject
on which, as you are well aware, I have always bestowed particular
attention, I here present you with those of the latter bird, as
observed in Britain, by my learned friend, WILLIAM MACGILLIVRAY:—“With
us the Wren is not migratory, but is found during winter in the most
northern parts of the island, as well as in the Hebrides. Its flight is
effected by a rapid and continuous motion of the wings, and therefore
is not undulated, but direct; nor is it usually sustained, for the bird
merely flits from one bush to another, or from stone to stone. It is
most frequently met with along stone-walls, among fragments of rocks,
in thickets of gorse, and by hedges, where it attracts notice by the
liveliness of its motions, and frequently by its loud chirring noise.
When standing, it keeps its tail nearly erect, and jerks its whole
body; then hops about with alacrity, using its wings at the same time,
and continually enunciating its rapid chit. In spring and summer, the
male has a very pleasing, full, rich, and mellow song, which it repeats
at intervals; and even in autumn and on fine days in winter, it may
often be heard hurrying over its ditty, the loudness and clearness of
which, as proceeding from so diminutive a creature, is apt to excite
surprise, even after it has been long familiar.
“During the breeding season, Wrens keep in pairs, often in unfrequented
parts, such as bushy dells, mossy woods, the banks of streams, and
stony places overgrown with brambles, sloes, and other shrubs; but
they are also to be found in shrubberies, gardens, and hedges in
the immediate vicinity of human habitations, to which the wilder
individuals also approach in winter. They are not properly speaking
shy, as they conceive themselves to be secure at the distance of
twenty or thirty yards; but on the approach of a person, they conceal
themselves in holes among stones, or the roots of bushes.
“I know not a more pleasant object to look at than the Wren; it is
always so smart and cheerful. In gloomy weather, other birds often seem
melancholy, and in rain the Sparrows and Finches stand silent on the
twigs, with drooping wings and ruffled plumage. But to the Wren all
weathers are alike. The big drops of the thunder-shower no more wet
it than the drizzle of an easterly haar; and as it peeps from beneath
the bramble, or glances from a hole in the wall, it seems as snug as a
kitten frisking on the parlour rug.
“It is amusing to watch the motions of a young family of Wrens just
come abroad. Walking among furze, or broom, or juniper, you are
attracted to some bush by hearing issue from it a lively and frequent
repetition of a sound which resembles the syllable _chit_. On going
up you perceive an old Wren flitting about the twigs, and presently
a young one flies off, uttering a stiffled chirr, to conceal itself
among the bushes. Several follow in succession, while the parents
continue to flutter about, in great alarm, uttering their loud _chit_,
_chit_, _chit_, with indications of varied degrees of excitement. On
open ground a young Wren might easily be run down, and I have heard it
asserted that an old one may soon be tired out in time of snow, when
it cannot easily conceal itself. And yet, even in such a case, it is
by no means easy to keep it in sight, for on the side of a bank, or by
a wall, or in a thicket, it will find a hole where one least expected
it, and creeping in some crevice beneath the snow, reappear at a
considerable distance.
“The food of birds can be determined only by opening their crops or
stomachs, or by observation directed to living individuals, the former,
however, being the only sure method. The Wrens which I have opened
generally contained remains of insects of various kinds, with larvæ,
and sometimes pupæ; but I have also found in them seeds, and Mr NEVILLE
WOOD states that they sometimes eat red currants. In the stomach of an
individual examined in December 1830, I found many small hard seeds,
an entire pupæ, and numerous fragments of the shells of pupæ, and
elytra of coleopterous insects. So small a bird having so slender a
bill, might doubtless be taken for a typical entomophagist; but it is
probable that no species of this order confines itself exclusively to
insects.
“The Wren pairs about the middle of spring, and begins early in April
to construct its nest, which varies much in form and composition,
according to the locality. One brought me by my son is of astonishing
size compared with that of its architect, its greatest diameter being
seven inches, and its height five. Having been placed on a flat surface
under a bank, its base is of a corresponding form, and is composed
of layers of decayed ferns and other plants, mixed with twigs of
herbaceous and woody vegetables. Similar materials have been employed
in raising the outer wall of the nest itself, of which the interior
is spherical, and three inches in diameter. The wall is composed of
mosses of several species, quite fresh and green, and it is arched
over with fern leaves and straws. The mosses are curiously interwoven
with fibrous roots and hair of various animals, and the inner surface
is even and compact, like coarse felt. To the height of two inches
there is a copious lining of large soft feathers, chiefly of the Wood
Pigeon, but also of the Pheasant and Domestic Duck, with a few of the
Blackbird. The aperture, which is in front, and in the form of a low
arch, two inches in breadth at the base, and an inch and a half in
height, has its lower edge formed of slender twigs, strong herbaceous
stalks, and stems of grasses, the lowest being felted in the usual
manner. It contained five eggs of an elongated oval form, averaging
eight lines in length, and six lines in breadth, pure white, with
some scattered dots of light red at the larger end, one of them with
scarcely any, and another with a great number. Of three nests presented
to me by my friend THOMAS DURHAM WEIR, Esq. one is extremely beautiful,
being composed entirely of fresh green hypna, without any internal
layer, although, no eggs having been found in it, it possibly had
not been completed. It is of an oblong form, seven inches in length,
and four in its transverse diameter. The mouth measures an inch and
eight-twelfths across, an inch and a twelfth in height. Its lower part
is formed of small twigs of larch laid across and interwoven, so as
to present a firm pediment. The longitudinal diameter of the interior
is three inches and a half. Another, formed on a decayed tuft of _Aira
cæspitosa_, is globular, six inches in diameter, and composed of moss,
with a lining of hair and feathers, chiefly of the domestic fowl. The
third is globular, and externally formed almost entirely of ferns, like
that described above. In all the nests of this species which I have
seen, the lower part of the mouth was composed of twigs of trees, or
stems of herbaceous plants laid across, and kept together with moss and
hair.
“The nests are found in a great variety of situations: very often in
a recess overhung by a bank, sometimes in a crevice among stones, in
the hole of a wall, or of a tree, among the thatch of a cottage or
outhouse, on the top of a shed or barn, the branch of a tree, whether
growing along a wall, or standing free, among ivy, honeysuckle,
clematis, or other climbing plants. When the nest is on the ground, its
base is generally formed of leaves, twigs, and straws, and its exterior
is often similar; but when otherwise, the outer surface is generally
smooth and chiefly composed of moss.
“The number of eggs which it lays has been variously stated by authors.
Mr WEIR says that, although it is commonly seven or eight, so many as
sixteen or seventeen have been found in its nest. ROBERT SMITH, weaver
in Bathgate, told me, that a few years ago, he saw in a nest, which
was built on the bank of a rivulet about two miles from Linlithgow,
seventeen eggs; and JAMES D. BAILLIE, Esq. informed me, that in June
last, he took out of one which he discovered in a spruce tree, near
Polkemmet House, sixteen eggs.”
My friend THOMAS M’CULLOCH of Pictou has presented me with the
following curious account of a European individual of this species.
“During my residence at Spring Vale in the vicinity of Hammersmith,
I was amusing myself one afternoon with the movements of a pair of
Water-hens, which were flirting about the edge of the tall reeds so
abundant in that neighbourhood, when my attention was arrested by a
Wren, carrying a straw, darting into a small hedge directly beneath
the window at which I stood. In a few minutes the bird reappeared,
and flew to a piece of old thatch which was lying near, and having
disengaged another straw he immediately returned with it to the
place in which the first had been deposited. For about two hours this
operation was continued by the bird with the greatest diligence. He
then abandoned his task, and ascending the highest twig of the hedge,
he poured forth his sweet and merry notes, until driven away by some
person passing near. For the remainder of the evening I saw no more
of the little architect, but on the following morning, being drawn
to the window by his song, I observed him leave his favourite perch
and resume with ardour the employment of the previous day. During the
forenoon I was not able to pay much attention to the movements of the
Wren, but from an occasional glance I observed that his task, with
the exception of a few intervals of relaxation, when his merry warble
fell upon the ear, was plied with a degree of bustling activity which
was worthy of the important undertaking. On examining his labours at
the close of the second day, I observed that the exterior of a large
spherical nest was nearly finished, and that from the old thatch,
though exceedingly moist and black from decay, all the materials had
been obtained. By the afternoon of the ensuing day his visits to the
thatch were discontinued, and he kept bustling and flirting about
the spot. He seemed from his lengthened intervals of song rather to
be exulting in the progress, than to be making any addition to the
work. In the evening I inspected the nest, and found the exterior
complete, and by carefully inserting my finger, I ascertained that
no lining had yet been applied, in consequence most probably of the
moisture which still remained in the straw. Returning to the spot
in about half an hour afterwards, with one of my cousins, to look at
the nest, I observed with no small surprise that the little bird had
not only resented the intrusion by closing up the aperture, but also
had opened another passage from the opposite side of the hedge. The
aperture was closed with pieces of the old thatch, and the work was so
neatly executed that no traces of the former entrance were perceptible.
The nest was altogether the work of one bird, and during the time he
spent in building we never observed another Wren in his company. In
the choice of the materials, as well as in the situation of the nest,
there was something exceedingly curious. Though the bottom and sides
of the garden were enclosed by a thick hedge, in which he could have
built in perfect security, and where, from the vicinity of the stables,
abundance of fresh materials could have been easily obtained, yet the
old thatch and the hedge at the head of the garden were preferred. This
part of the hedge was young and thin, and separated from the buildings
by a narrow path, which was constantly frequented by the servants of
the establishment. Interruptions from this source, however, he did not
seem to mind, for though often driven from his task he returned the
next moment with as much confidence as if he had never been disturbed.
Even when his nest was destroyed by the wantonness of a stranger, he
did not abandon the place, but continued to carry straws from the old
thatch with as much diligence as before. From the extreme caution,
however, which he subsequently displayed, and the circuitous routes
which he took, I never could discover the spot which he selected for
his second nest.”
The Winter Wren so closely resembles the European Wren, that I was long
persuaded of their identity; but a careful comparison of a great number
of specimens, has convinced me that permanent differences in colouring
may be pointed out, although still, I am not by any means persuaded
that they are specifically different.
TROGLODYTES HYEMALIS, _Vieill._ Encyl. Meth., ii. p. 470.
TROGLODYTES EUROPÆUS, _Ch. Bonaparte_, Synopsis of Birds of
United States, p. 93.
WINTER WREN, SYLVIA TROGLODYTES, _Wils._ Amer. Ornith. vol.
i. p. 139, pl. 8, fig. 6.
TROGLODYTES HYEMALIS, WINTER WREN, _Richards. and Swains._
Fauna Bor.-Amer. vol. ii. p. 318.
WINTER WREN, _Nuttall_, Manual, vol. i. p. 427.
Adult Male. Plate CCCLX. Fig 1.
Bill rather long, slender, tapering, acute, nearly straight,
subtrigonal at the base, compressed towards the end. Upper mandible
with the dorsal outline slightly arched, the ridge narrow, the sides
sloping at the base, towards the end slightly convex and erect, the
edges sharp, direct, without notæ; lower mandible with the angle narrow
and rather acute, the dorsal outline straight, the back narrow, the
edges sharp, and inflected, the tip very narrow; the gape-line very
slightly arched. Nostrils linear-oblong, basal.
Head ovate, of moderate size, neck short; body ovate. Feet of ordinary
length; tarsus compressed, with seven anterior scutella, of which
the upper are indistinct; toes rather large compressed; first large,
and much longer than the two lateral which are equal, the third much
longer; the third and fourth coherent as far as the second joint of the
latter. Claws long, arched, extremely compressed, laterally grooved,
acute.
Plumage soft and blended; no bristle-feathers at the base of the bill.
Wing shortish, broad, much rounded; first quill very small, being
little more than half the length of the second, which is 2-1/4 twelfths
shorter than the third; the fourth longest, and exceeding the third
by half a twelfth, and the fourth by somewhat less; secondaries long,
rounded. Tail short, much rounded, of twelve slightly arched, weak
rounded feathers.
Bill dusky brown, with the basal edges of the upper and two-thirds
of the lower mandible paler. Iris brown. Tarsi and toes pale
greenish-brown, as are the claws. The general colour of the upper parts
is reddish-brown, darker on the head, brighter on the tail-coverts,
quills, and tail. There is a white spot near the tips of the posterior
dorsal feathers. The secondary coverts, and the first small coverts,
have each a white spot at the tip. The wing-coverts and quills banded
with blackish-brown and brownish-red, the bands of the latter colour
becoming reddish-white on the outer five quills. Tail with twelve
dusky-bands. The dorsal feathers and scapulars are more faintly barred
in the same manner. A brownish-white band from the upper mandible over
the eye; the cheeks brown, spotted with brownish-white, the margins
of the feathers being of the former colour; the lower parts pale
reddish-brown, the sides and abdomen barred with brownish-black and
greyish-white; the fore neck and breast more faintly barred; the lower
wing-coverts and axillars greyish-white, barred with dusky; the lower
tail-coverts brownish-red, barred with dusky and having the tip white.