Field identification of this extremely elusive bird is more a matter of knowledge of mannerisms than color. On the rare occasions when a glimpse of a buffy vest lured me to pursuit, the gnomes disappeared with foxlike magic.

In May, 1926, I heard what I thought was a singular House Wren song behind an old barn on our road. Peeking thru a board crack I caught "MR. LINCOLN" on a burdock branch in the act of rendering his odd combination of Wren and Fox Sparrow notes. At the end of the main motif he paused a few seconds, then added a few subdued notes in a different key. That was the only time I have heard one. Their shyness and inconspicuous coloration render them comparatively unknown in country where they probably are fairly common.