Taken near Chelan. Photo by the Author.
GROUND NEST OF WESTERN LARK SPARROW.
The desert harbors many choice spirits, but none (save the incomparable Sage Thrasher) more joyous or more talented than the Lark Sparrow. Whether it is running nimbly along the ground or leaping into the air to catch a risen grasshopper, one feels instinctively that here is a dainty breed. The bird loves to trip ahead coquettishly along a dusty road, only to yield place at last to your insistent steed with an air of gentle reproach. As it flits away you catch a glimpse of the rounded tail, held half open, with its terminal rim of white, and you know you have met the aristocrat of the sage.
Lark Sparrows are somewhat irregular in distribution, but their range corresponds roughly with the northern extension of the Upper Sonoran zone, with overflow into the adjacent Arid Transition. Altho prairie birds, they are fond of scattered trees, fences, telegraph poles, or anything which will afford sufficient elevation for the sweet sacrament of song.
This bird, more frequently than others, is found singing in the middle of the very hottest days in summer, and at such times his tremulous notes come to the ear like the gurgling of sweet waters. But Ridgway’s description has not been surpassed:[15] “This song is composed of a series of chants, each syllable rich, loud, and clear, interspersed with emotional trills. At the beginning the song reminds one somewhat of that of the Indigo Bird (Passerina cyanea), but the notes are louder and more metallic, and their delivery more vigorous. Tho seemingly hurried, it is one continued gush of sprightly music; now gay, now melodious, and then tender beyond description,—the very expression of emotion. At intervals the singer falters, as if exhausted by exertion, and his voice becomes scarcely audible; but suddenly reviving in his joy, it is resumed in all its vigor, until he appears to be really overcome by the effort.”
These gentle birds are evidently profiting somewhat by the human occupation of the soil, and adapt themselves readily to changed conditions. They are reported as breeding in the valley of the Willamette in Oregon, but we have no records of their occurrence in Washington west of the Cascades.
No. 39.
WESTERN VESPER SPARROW.
A. O. U. No. 540a. Poœcetes gramineus confinis Baird.
Synonyms.—Western Grass Finch. Bay-winged Bunting.
Description.—Adults: General tone of upperparts slaty or grayish brown on the edges of the feathers, modified by the dusky centers, and warmed by delicate traces of rufous, bend of wing bay, concealing dusky centers; wings and tail fuscous with pale tawny or whitish edgings,—outer tail-feathers principally or entirely white, the next two pairs white, or not, in varying amount; below sordid white, sharply streaked on breast, flanks, and sides with dusky brown; the chin and throat with small arrow marks of the same color and bounded by chains of streaks; auriculars clear hair-brown, with buffy or lighter center; usually a buffy suffusion on streaked area of breast and sides. Length of adult male: 5.75-6.25 (146.1-158.8); wing 3.29 (83.6); tail 2.59 (65.8); bill .44 (11.2); tarsus .85 (21.6). Female a little smaller.
Recognition Marks.—Sparrow size; general streaked appearance; white lateral tail-feathers conspicuous in flight; frequents fields and the open sage.
Nesting.—Nest: on ground, usually in depression, neatly lined with grasses, rootlets, and horse-hair. Eggs: 4 or 5, pinkish-, grayish-, or bluish-white, speckled, spotted and occasionally scrawled with reddish-brown. Av. size, .82 × .60 (20.8 × 15.2). Season: first week in May, second week in June; two broods.
General Range.—Western United States (except Pacific coast district) and Canada north to Saskatchewan east to Manitoba, the Dakotas (midway), western Nebraska, etc.; breeding from the highlands of Arizona and New Mexico northward; in winter from southern California east to Texas and south to southern Mexico.
Range in Washington.—East-side, sparingly distributed in all open situations.
Migrations.—Spring: Yakima Co., March 15, 1900; Chelan Co., March 31, 1896.
Authorities.—Dawson, Auk, XIV. April 1897, p. 178. Sr. D². Ss¹. Ss². J.
Specimens.—P. Prov. C.
A sober garb cannot conceal the quality of the wearer, even tho Quaker gray be made to cover alike saint and sinner. Plainness of dress, therefore, is a fault to be readily forgiven, even in a bird, if it be accompanied by a voice of sweet sincerity and a manner of self-forgetfulness. In a family where a modest appearance is no reproach, but a warrant to health and long life, the Vesper Sparrow is pre-eminent for modesty. You are not aware of his presence until he disengages himself from the engulfing grays and browns of the stalk-strewn ground or dusty roadside, and mounts a fence-post to rhyme the coming or the parting day.
The arrival of Vesper Sparrow, late in March, may mark the supreme effort of that particular warm wave, but you are quite content to await the further travail of the season while you get acquainted with this amiable newcomer. Under the compulsion of the sun the bleary fields have been trying to muster a decent green to hide the ugliness of winter’s devastation. But wherefore? The air is lonely and the sage untenanted. The Meadowlarks, to be sure, have been romping about for several weeks and getting bolder every day; but they are roisterous fellows, drunk with air and mad with sunshine. The winter-sharpened ears wait hungrily for the poet of common day. The morning he comes a low sweet murmur of praise is heard on every side. You know it will ascend unceasingly thenceforth, and spring is different.
Vesper Sparrow is the typical ground bird. He eats, runs, sleeps, and rears his family upon the ground; but to sing—ah, that is different!—nothing less than the tip of the highest sage-bush will do for that; a telegraph pole or wire is better; and a lone tree in a pasture is not to be despised for this one purpose. The males gather in spring to engage in decorous concerts of rivalry. The song consists of a variety of simple, pleasing notes, each uttered two or three times, and all strung together to the number of four or five. The characteristic introduction is a mellow whistled he-ho, a little softer in tone than the succeeding notes. The song of the western bird has noticeably greater variety than that of the eastern. Not only is it less stereotyped in the matter of pitch and duration, but in quality and cadence it sometimes shows surprising differences. One heard in Chelan County would have passed for Brewer’s on a frolic, except for the preliminary “hee-ho’s”: Heéoo heéoo heéoo buzziwuzziwuzzi wuzziwuzziwuzzi weechee weechee. And indeed it would not be surprising if he had learned from Spizella breweri, who is a constant neighbor and a safe guide in matters of sage lore. The scolding note, a thrasher-like kissing sound, tsook, will sometimes interrupt a song if the strange listener gets too close. Early morning and late evening are the regular song periods; but the conscientious and indefatigable singer is more apt than most to interrupt the noontide stillness also.