scraps of meat. Chopped raw beef was to them the greatest treat. At the basin they not only drank, but spread their wings over it and splashed the water all around, trying to bathe in that shallow dish. It was only a big flower-pot saucer. While the weather was still cold, they began to sing mornings before daylight. It was like listening to Christmas carols to hear them.
On mild and thawing days they could be seen hopping over my neighbor's lawn. Most cunningly they would turn their heads to one side, then to the other. It is said that they do this so they can hear the worms and insects move about in the ground. I believe it; for often I have seen a robin, after listening intently at some spot, stop to scratch and dig, then pull out a worm.
The robins often pulled and jerked at the morning-glory vines on our porch. Whenever they got one loose they would gather it up in loops with the bill and carry it away. They also tore strings off our mop and flew away with them.
On a pillar of our porch there hung a can in which we sometimes put flowers. One rainy April day a little wren alighted on the edge of that can and looked in. The can was empty at the time, so the bird went inside, but came out again quickly and flew away.
Pretty soon two wrens came, and both went inside. Then for several days they made frequent visits to
