arp watch while we held whispered
consultation as to whether that was the winter wren, and the mate of our
singer.

"Oh, if she has a nest!" said my comrade, to whose home belonged these
woods. "The winter wren is not known to nest here. We must find it."

[Sidenote: _THE EXCITEMENT OF DISCOVERY._]

Silence again, while a tanager called his agitated "chip-chur!" in the
tops of the tall beech-trees, a downy woodpecker knocked vigorously at
the door of some ill-fated grub in a maple trunk, and the wren burst
into his maddest melody afar off. We were not to be lured this morning.
We were enjoying the excitement of discoverers. Where a bird is carrying
food must be a nest with birdlings, and nothing could draw us from that.

We waited. In a few minutes the bird appeared again with her mate. Was
he the singer? Breathless hush on our part, with eyes fixed on the two
restless parents, who were anxious to pass us. In a moment one of them
became aggressive. He--or she--flew to a twig eight or ten feet from us,
jerked himself up in a terrifying way, as though about to annihilate us,
and then bowed violently; not intending a polite salutation, as might be
supposed, but defiance, threat, or insult. We held our ground, refusing
to be frightened away, and at last parental love conquered fear; both of
them flew past us at the same instant, went to one spot under the
upturned roots of a fallen tree, and in a moment departed together.

My fellow-student hurried eagerly to the place, dropped upon her knees
on the wet ground, amid rank ferns and weeds, leaned far under the
overhanging roots with their load of black earth, thrust careful fingers
into something, and then rose, flushed and triumphant.

"Come here," she commanded. "A nest full of babies! Oh, what luck!"

There it was, sure enough, away back under the heavy roof of earth and
roots, a snug round structure of green moss, little bigger than a
croquet ball. The hole occupied by the roots when the tree stood erect
was now filled with water, and before it waved a small forest of ferns.
It was an ideal situation for a nest; pleasant to look at, and safe--if
anything could be safe--from the small fur-clad gentry who claimed the
wood and all it contained for their own.

"The hermit has no finer eye
For shadowy quietness"

than had this pair of wise little wrens.

From the blissful moment of our discovery, whatever interesting
excursion was planned, whatever choice nest