A. O. U. No. 585 c. Passerella iliaca schistacea (Baird).
Synonym.—Slate-colored Fox Sparrow.
Description.—Adults: Upperparts slaty gray tinged with olivaceous, changing abruptly to russet brown on upper tail-coverts, and tail; wings brown brightening, more rusty, on edges of greater coverts and secondaries; some white fleckings below eye, and supraloral spot dull whitish; underparts white shaded with color of back on sides; the sides of throat, chest, and sides of breast heavily and distinctly marked with triangular spots of sepia; lower breast (and sometimes middle of throat) flecked, and sides and flanks striped, with the same shade; under tail-coverts grayish brown centrally edged broadly with buffy. Young birds are tinged with brown above and are duller white below with less distinct markings. Length of adult male 7.00-7.50 (177.8-190.5); wing 3.15 (80); tail 3.15 (80); bill .47 (12); tarsus .92 (23.3).
Recognition Marks.—Sparrow to Chewink size; slaty gray and brown coloration above with heavy spotting on breast distinctive; gray instead of brown on back as compared with the five members of the unalaschensis group.
Nesting.—Nest: a bulky affair of twigs, weed-stalks, grasses, etc., placed on ground or low in bushes of thicket. Eggs: 3-5, usually 4, greenish brown sharply spotted or (rarely) blotched with chestnut. Av. size .85 × .65 (21.6 × 16.5). Season: May-July; two broods.
General Range.—Rocky Mountain district of United States and British Columbia west to and including the Cascade Mountains, the White Mountains of southeastern California, and the mountains of northeastern California; south in winter to New Mexico, Arizona, etc.
Range in Washington.—Summer resident in the timbered districts of the East-side and in the Cascade Mountains (west to Mt. Rainier).
Authorities.—[“Slate-colored sparrow,” Johnson, Rep. Gov. W. T. 1884 (1885), 22]. Bendire, Life Hist. N. A. Birds, Vol. II., p. 435.
The residents of Cannon Hill, in Spokane, are to be congratulated, not alone for their wealth, for Nature is not curious as to bank accounts, but for the rare good taste which has been displayed in utilizing the largess of Nature. Instead of going in with axe and shovel and fire-brand, first to obliterate the distinctive features of Nature and then rear mocking platitudes in mortar and stone upon her pale ashes, they have accepted the glory of her grim lava bastions and the grace of her unhewn pines; nor have they even despised the tangles of wild shrubbery, those decent draperies without which both tree and cliff would be overstark. To be sure the landscape artist with consummate skill has said to the piny sentinel, “Stand here!” and to the copse, “Sit there!” but he has not forgotten withal the primeval rights of the feathered aborigines. As a result the birds approve. What higher meed could mortal ask? Or where is there a better criterion of taste? Taken all in all I doubt if there is a more delightful spot in Washington in which to study bird life, certainly not within municipal bounds, than Cannon Hill affords.
Here, for instance, is this wood sprite, the very genius of the unravished wild; no one would think of looking for him in a city, yet of an early morning as the bird-man was passing along Seventh Avenue, he was arrested by the crisp and hearty notes of a Slate-colored Sparrow, coming from a bush in an artistically unkempt corner of the adjoining yard. In the half light, nothing in the pose and appearance of this bird would have induced an ornithologist to bestow a second glance upon the evident Song Sparrow, had it not been for the sweet and powerful challenge which poured from his earnest beak. Ooree, rickit, loopiteer, it said, with varied cadence and minor change, which gave evidence of no mean ability. There is something so forthright and winsome about the song of this modest bird, that the listener promptly surrenders “at discretion,” and begins to ask eager questions of his dainty captor.
A few yards further on three of these Sparrows were seen feeding on a well-kept lawn, but ready to skurry at a breath to the shelter of bush-clumps, thoughtfully provided. And all this in the first week in June, the very height of nesting time! With this as an example, what need to speak of Hammond Flycatchers, Mountain Chickadees, Catbirds, Pine Siskins, Audubon Warblers, Shufeldt Juncoes, Cassin Finches, Pygmy Nuthatches, American Crossbills, Cassin Vireos, Louisiana Tanagers, Ruby-crowned Kinglets, Olive-sided Flycatchers, Evening Grosbeaks, Violet-green Swallows, Black-chinned Hummingbirds, Bobwhites, and a host of commoner sorts, all residents of the same demesne? “Unto him that hath shall be given.” Unto these who have shown appreciation and consideration, has been given the friendship of the birds, and they deserve their good fortune.
On the 5th of June we visited a nest which had been located a few days before in a little aspen grove beyond Garden Springs. The nest was placed upon the ground at the base of a small tree, and it sat so high, without pretense of concealment, that it was plainly visible with all its contents two rods away.
The female was brooding, but upon our approach she slipped quietly off and left her three callow young to the tender mercies of the bird-man and his big glass eye, set at four feet, while she began searching for food upon the ground a yard or two away.
Taken in Rainier National Park. From a Photograph Copyright, 1908, by W. L. Dawson.
WITH UNCLOUDED BROW.
A HAUNT OF THE SLATE-COLORED SPARROW.
The male bird appeared, once, upon a bush some twenty feet away, making no hostile demonstration but beaming rather a hearty confidence, as who should say, “Well, I see you are getting along nicely at home; that’s right, enjoy yourselves, and I’ll finish up this bit of hoeing before supper.”
The mother bird, meanwhile, was uttering no complaint of the strange presence, preferring instead to glean food industriously from under the carpet of green leaves. Soon she returned, hopping up daintily. Standing upon the elevated brim of her nest she carefully surveyed her brood without proffer of food, as tho merely to assure herself of their welfare. I “snapped” and she retreated, not hastily, as tho frightened, but quietly as matter of reasonable prudence. Again and again during the hour I had her under fire, she returned to her brood. Each time she retired before the mild roar of the curtain shutter, never hastily or nervously, but deliberately and demurely. Thrice she fed her brood, thrusting her beak, which bore no external signs of food, deep down into the upturned gullets of the three children. Thrice she attempted to brood her babes, and very handsome and very motherly she looked, with fluffed feathers and mildly inquisitive eye; but the necessary movement following an exposure sent her away for a season.