ABOUT A SPARROW.
There have been tales told about this curious little rowdy among birds. He was a nuisance; he drove our song and grub-eating birds away; he also littered the cornices of buildings and made of himself a pest in general. There have been other tales told about the cute chap who perches upon a wire near the window and rocks his clever head toward you when you tap against the pane; and still another story is told concerning the lynching of one by a flock of the brisk chaps. Some say they took a bit of twine, fastened it to a wire, secured the victim, and induced him to put his head through a loop; then drew the twine and scattered, leaving a lot of wise men to gaze upon the wonderful spectacle, which the newspapers took up and printed. I have watched birds for years and I never saw an incident of the sort—the lynching of a sparrow by his fellow sparrows! A sparrow has been caught in the loop of a bit of twine fastened to a wire or a cornice; but no sparrow ever deliberately put the twine up and lynched one of his rowdy brood. He wouldn’t do it simply because he hasn’t got bird instinct enough to follow out such a tragedy. I will tell you a little incident concerning a sparrow which I know to be true. It didn’t find a place in any newspaper, either, simply because I never gave it much thought until now, hence never mentioned it before.
I had noticed upon arising for several mornings in the early spring a half dozen or so of sparrows congregated in a sunny spot of the roof below. At first I paid no attention to it, for the sparrow is apt to go where he pleases, man’s wishes to the contrary notwithstanding. But the little chaps were there every morning, and in the same sunny spot. I was curious to know why they came there, and I went down stairs one morning to watch them from a more close point of observation. I got there before they came. I stood back of a closed blind, peeped through the slats and waited. When the sun-rays fell upon the spot close to the window the little fellows began to come—each with a morsel of food. They twittered and hopped about as if they were enjoying the morning fancy. Then they scattered and took wings to chimneys, cornices and wires. I opened the blinds and looked out. I saw one lone, little sparrow feeding. I bent over the sill. He did not fly away. I reached out and took him in. He fluttered and struggled. His eyes were covered with a film. He was blind.
H. S. Keller.
THE WHITE-THROATED SPARROW.
(Zonotrichia albicollis.)
“The sparrows are all meek and lowly birds.” They are not clothed in a plumage of gorgeous hues, but are endowed with melodious voices in harmony with their surroundings. “Theirs are the quaint lullaby songs of childhood.” Their plain coats are a means of protection, for they frequent the fields, the hedges and the low shrubs of the woodland borders. Some of their relatives, the grosbeaks, the goldfinch and the finches, are more brilliantly colored and are more arboreal in their habits.
The White-throated Sparrow (Zonotrichia albicollis) is one of the handsomest of the sparrows. It is one of the exquisite parts of nature. Migratory in habits, its range covers all of Eastern North America, nesting from Michigan and Massachusetts northward and wintering from the latter state southward to Florida.
Its scientific name is descriptive of the marked color characteristics of its crown and throat. Zonotrichia means hair or crown bands, and albicollis is from the Latin meaning white-throated. It is sometimes called Peabody Bird, especially by the New Englanders, with whom Peabody is an important traditional name, and they hear the birds say in its song “I—I Pea-body, Pea-body, Pea-body.” This rendering of its plaintive song is a caricature, yet the name clings to the bird even in other parts of the country. The reserved manner of its movements would hardly lead one to expect that a beautiful song could flow from its white throat. This song is so well defined that the notation may be written on the musical staff. Mr. Chapman says: “In September, when the hedgerows and woodland undergrowths begin to rustle with sparrows, juncos and towhees, I watch eagerly for the arrival of these welcome fall songsters.” We cannot forbear quoting the words of that great student of bird life, Audubon, who says of the White-Throat’s habit in autumn, “How it comes and how it departs are quite unknown to me. I can only say that, all of a sudden, the edges of the fields bordering on creeks or swampy places and overgrown with different species of vines, sumac bushes, briers and the taller kinds of grasses, appear covered with birds. They form groups, sometimes containing from thirty to fifty individuals, and live together in harmony. They are constantly moving up and down among these recesses, with frequent jerkings of the tail, and uttering a note common to the tribe. From the hedges and thickets they issue one by one, in quick succession, and ramble to the distance of eight or ten yards, hopping and scratching, in quest of small seeds, and preserving the utmost silence. When the least noise is heard or alarm given, and frequently, as I thought, without any alarm at all, they all fly back to their covert, pushing directly into the thickest part of it. A moment elapses, when they become reassured, and ascending to the highest branches and twigs open a little concert, which, although of short duration, is extremely sweet. There is much plaintive softness in their note, which I wish, kind reader, I could describe to you; but this is impossible, although it is yet ringing in my ears, as if I were in those very fields where I have so often listened to it with delight. No sooner is their music over than they return to the field, and thus continue alternately sallying forth and retreating during the greater part of the day. At the approach of night they utter a sharper note, consisting of a single twit, repeated in a smart succession by the whole group, and continuing until the first hooting of some owl frightens them into silence. Yet, often during fine nights I have heard the little creatures emit, here and there, a twit, as if to assure each other that all’s well.”
WHITE-THROATED SPARROW.
(Zonotrichia albicollis.)
About Life-size.
FROM COL. CHI. ACAD. SCIENCES.
The nest, too, is a neat creation of small roots, coarse grass, bark and moss and lined with a bedding of fine grass and moss. It is usually placed on the ground in fields or open woods, where it is protected by the taller grasses. Sometimes, however, low bushes or the lower branches of trees are selected. So careful is the White-Throat in the constructing of its nest not to disturb the surrounding vegetation, and so neutral is the color of the material used, that one may hunt for a long time without finding it unless he luckily stumbles upon it.