Difficult as it may seem, it is true that the English Sparrow adopts the policy of Uriah Heep upon first entering a town. With all the unctuous humility of a band of Mormon apostles, the newcomers talk softly, walk circumspectly, and either seek to escape notice altogether, or else assiduously cultivate the good opinion of their destined dupes. Thus, I resided in the town of Blaine for two months (in 1904) without running across a single member of the pioneer band of nine English Sparrows, altho I was assured on good authority that the birds had been there for at least two years previous.
It requires no testimony to show that the presence of this bird is absolutely undesirable. It is a scourge to the agriculturist, a plague to the architect, and the avowed and determined enemy of all other birds. Its nests are not only unsightly but unsanitary, and the maudlin racket of their owners unendurable. The bird is, in short, in the words of the late Dr. Coues, “a nuisance without a redeeming quality.” Altho we assent to this most heartily, we are obliged to confess on the part of our race to a certain amount of sneaking admiration for the Sparrow. And why, forsooth? Because he fights! We are forced to admire, at times, his bull-dog courage and tenacity of purpose, as we do the cunning of the weasel and the nimbleness of the flea. He is vermin and must be treated as such; but, give the Devil his due, of course. What are we going to do about it? Wage unceasing warfare, as we do against rats. There will possibly be rats as long as there are men, but a bubonic plague scare operates very effectually to reduce their numbers. No doubt there will be English Sparrows in cities as long as there are brick-bats, but a clear recognition of their detestable qualities should lead every sensible person to deny them victuals and shelter. The House Sparrow is no longer exterminable, but he may be, must be kept within bounds.
No. 36.
SNOWFLAKE.
A. O. U. No. 534. Plectrophenax nivalis (Linn.)
Synonym.—Snow Bunting.
Description.—Adult male in summer: Pure white save for bill, feet, middle of back, scapulars, bastard wing, the end half of primaries and inner secondaries, and the middle tail-feathers, which are black. Female in summer: Similar, but upperparts streaked all over with black, and the black wings largely replaced by fuscous. Adults in winter: Entire upperparts overcast with browns—rusty or seal brown—clear on crown, grayish and mottled with dusky centers of feathers on back, scapulars, etc.; also rusty ear-patches, and a rusty collar, with faint rusty wash on sides. The black of wing and tail-feathers is less pure (fuscous in the female) and edged with white or tawny. Length 6.50-7.00 (165.1-177.8); wing 4.12 (104.6); tail 2.54 (64.5); bill .40 (10.2).
Recognition Marks.—Sparrow size; conspicuously and uniquely white, with blacks and browns above.
Nesting.—Does not breed in Washington. “Nest: on the ground in the sphagnum and tussocks of Arctic regions, of a great quantity of grass and moss, lined profusely with feathers. Eggs: 4-6, very variable in size and color, about .90 × .65 (22.9 × 16.5), white or whitish, speckled, veined, blotched, and marbled with deep browns and neutral tints” (Coues.).
General Range.—“Northern parts of the northern hemisphere, breeding in the Arctic regions; in North America south in winter into the northern United States, irregularly to Georgia, southern Illinois, Kansas and Oregon.”
Range in Washington.—East-side, of regular occurrence in open country; casual west of the Cascades.
Migrations.—Nov. 4, 1899 (Yakima County). March 17, 1896 (Okanogan County).
Authorities.—[“Snow Bunting,” Johnson, Rep. Gov. W. T. 1884 (1885), 22.] Dawson, Auk, XIV. 1897, 178. T. D¹. D². B. E.
Specimens.—(U. of W.) Prov. B. E. P.
I well remember my first meeting with this prince of storm waifs, the Snowflake. It was in Chelan County on a chilly day in December. A distant-faring, feathered stranger had tempted me across a bleak pasture, when all at once a fluttering snowdrift, contrary to Nature’s wont, rose from earth toward heaven. I held my breath and listened to the mild babel of tut-ut-ut-tews, with which the Snow Buntings greeted me. The birds were loath to leave the place, and hovered indecisively while the bird-man devoured them with his eyes. As they moved off slowly, each bird seemed alternately to fall and struggle upward thru an arc of five or six feet, independently of his fellows, so that the flock as a whole produced quite the effect of a troubled snowstorm.
Snowflakes flock indifferently in winter and may occur in numbers up to several hundred. At other times a single, thrilling, vibrant call-note, tew or te-ew, may be heard during the falling of the real flakes, while the wandering mystery passes overhead, unseen. Stray birds not infrequently mingle with flocking Horned Larks; while Snowflakes and Lapland Longspurs are fast friends in the regions where the latter are common.
Probably these birds are of regular tho sparing occurrence in the Big Bend and Palouse countries, but they do not often reach the southern border of the State; and their appearance on Puget Sound, as upon the prairies of Pierce County, is quite unusual. While with us they move aimlessly from field to field in open situations, or glean the weed-seed, which forms their almost exclusive diet. In time of storm, or when emboldened by the continuance of winter, they may make their appearance in the barnyard, or about the outbuildings, where their sprightly notes and innocent airs are sure to make them welcome.
It is difficult to conceive how these birds may withstand the frightful temperatures to which they are subjected in a winter upon the Saskatchewan plains, and yet they endure this by preference to the effeminizing influences which are believed to prevail south of “Forty-nine,” and especially west of the Rockies. Close-knit feathers, the warmest covering known, fortified by layers of fat, render them quite impervious to cold; and as for the raging blizzard, the birds have only to sit quietly under the snow and wait till the blast has blown itself out.
The sun alone prevails, as in the case of the man with the cloak, and at the first hint of the sun’s return to power, these ice-children hasten back to find their chilly cradles. A few nest upon the Aleutian Islands, and along the shores of northern Alaska; but more of them resort to those ice-wrapped islands of the far North, which are mere names to the geographer and dismal memories to a few hardy whalers. Peary’s men found them breeding in Melville Land; and if there is a North Pole, be assured that some Snowflake is nestling contentedly at the base of it.