THE SONG SPARROW
“See? See? See? The herald of spring you see!
What matters if winds blow piercingly!
The brook, long ice-bound, struggles through
Its glistening fetters, and murmurs anew
With joy at the freedom the days will bring
When the snow has gone! And I, too, sing!
“See? See? See? A flush of color you see!
The tassels are hung on the budding tree,
Before it has drawn its curtain of leaves
To shade the homes of the birds. Now weaves
The silent spring a carpet fair,
With wind-flower and hepatica there.
“See? See? See? You are glad to welcome me.
You will hear my voice ring cheerfully
Through Summer’s heat or days of rain
Until the winter has come again.
From dawn till dusk, my heart is gay,
And I sing my happy life away.
See? See? See?”
THE FOX SPARROW
Finch Family—Fringillidæ
Length: A little over 7 inches; about an inch longer than the English sparrow, and nearly as large as a hermit thrush.
Male and Female: Upper parts reddish-brown, brightest on lower back and tail. (The red-brown tail is a distinguishing mark of the fox sparrow as it is of the hermit thrush.) Under parts grayish-white; throat, breast, belly, and sides heavily and irregularly streaked with reddish-brown and black, except the middle of the belly, which is white.
Note: A faint seep or cheep.
Song: The most beautiful of all the sparrows’—a burst of melody possessing sweetness and power; joyous, yet with a minor strain.
Habitat: Tall thickets or clumps of weeds.
Range: North America. Breeds in the forest-regions of Canada and Alaska; winters from the lower Ohio and Potomac Valleys to central Texas and northern Florida.
Never shall I forget the thrill of surprise and ecstasy which my first fox sparrow brought to me! My sister and I were on eager quest for early migrants in open woods and overgrown pastures, when from a thicket of tall shrubs there burst so marvelous a “concord of sweet sounds” that we were spell-bound. No words can describe the tenderness, the joyous abandon, yet withal the strain of sadness in the song, as though the choristers had drunk deep of life, had visioned clearly its secrets, and transmuted its experiences. When the music had become a soft cadence, we sought the singers, and found a band of thrush like sparrows scratching in the old brown leaves like bantam hens. They remained in the thicket for several days, singing most rapturously toward sunset.
Though shy birds and seen infrequently, fox sparrows occasionally approach houses. During a deep spring snow that covered the birds’ natural food-supply, several of these north-bound migrants came three times a day with a flock of juncos to feed on bread-crumbs in our back yard. Like Tommy Tucker, they “sang for their supper.” Twice they arrived before a fresh supply of crumbs had been scattered; their songs announced their presence and were accompanied by the gentle trill of the juncos. A large flock remained in Middlesex Fells for several days.
Most bird-lovers consider an experience with fox sparrows as out of the ordinary. Thoreau wrote: “Is not the coming of the fox-colored sparrow something more earnest and significant than I have dreamed of? These migrating sparrows bear all messages that concern my life.”[58]
PHŒBE
THE PHŒBE
Flycatcher Family—Tyrranidæ
Length: About 7 inches; a little larger than the English sparrow.
Male and Female: Grayish-brown above; under parts light gray with yellowish wash; breast darker than throat, sides grayish-brown; head dark brown, somewhat crested; bill black, slightly hooked at tip, with bristles at base; wings dark brown, with inconspicuous whitish wing-bars; tail dark brown; edge of two outer tail-feathers yellowish-white.
Song: No real song. Flycatchers are songless birds. The note is a hoarse Phœbe, sometimes Pe-wit-Phœbe. It is usually uttered mournfully and monotonously; occasionally the male gives numerous Phœbes rapidly while on the wing.
Habitat: Near streams preferably. A favorite nesting site is underneath a bridge; eaves of barns or beams of piazzas are also used.
Range: Eastern North America. Breeds from north-central Canada south to northeastern New Mexico, central Texas, northern Mississippi and highlands of Georgia; winters south of latitude 37° to southern Mexico.
When March has lost some of its bluster and gentler weather prevails, there arrives from the land of sunshine and teeming insect life, a small brown and gray bird—the Phœbe, first of the Flycatcher family to come North. Like many of the early migrants, he travels without his beloved little mate, whom he seems to miss sadly; for he sits disconsolately on a bare twig and calls her name in hoarse, wheezy tones. After she appears, it is pleasant to see their devotion, not only to each other, but to the nesting site. How they journey apart the great distance from South to North and find their own especial bridge or barn year after year, is one of the great mysteries.
Their large, loosely-constructed nest is made of moss and mud, lined with soft grass, hair, or feathers. It is usually infested with bird-lice, as I discovered, to my dismay. It is well not to allow phœbes to build where the lice may become a nuisance.
Like all the soberly-dressed flycatchers, phœbes seek conspicuous perches such as posts or dead branches. They have the family habit of ruffling up their head-feathers into a sort of crest, and of jerking their tails frequently, especially when uttering their note. They make unexpected sallies after insects, which their unusually keen eyes can see from dawn until dark.
Phœbes are among our most useful birds, for they destroy injurious beetles, weevils, flies that annoy cattle and horses, house flies, ants, mosquitoes, wasps, spiders, grasshoppers, and numerous other harmful insects.[59] Their soft brown and gray plumage blends with dull March meadows, with the silver sheen of the brooks they love, and with silken pussy-willows and brown willow-boughs.