One day in May, as I was hurrying along the street, my steps were
arrested by the distressed chirping of a sparrow on the opposite
sidewalk. Thinking that probably a young sparrow had fallen from the
nest, I picked my way across the muddy road to the other side to see
what I could do.
The poor little sparrow-mother was wildly hopping about and chirping in
sore distress. And what a pitiful sight greeted my eyes! Upon the wet
grass, under the very jaws of an evil-looking little black-and-tan dog,
was a poor, draggled, shivering baby sparrow.
At sight of me the dog coolly picked up the baby and trotted off. I
followed and he soon dropped it; but I couldn't succeed in driving him
away. He still remained in sight, bold and impudent.
I was in a sad dilemma. Of the two evils which confronted me, or rather
the baby, which would prove the less?
The trees all about the place were tall ones, with no low branches.
There was no hope of returning the baby to its nest. It was too weak
from cold and fright, as well as too young, to fly. If I left it the
dog would certainly return and devour it before its mother's eyes.
On the other hand, if I took it home with me it would probably die
under my ignorant care. However, I decided on the latter course, so
clasping it close in my hand, continued on my way.
Those who have a continual grudge against the English sparrow will say,
"Why all this fuss over a miserable little nuisance of a sparrow?" and
think the wisest thing would have been to leave it to its fate. But the
superfluity of the English sparrow is not the question in a case like
this. When something weak and helpless is thrown across our path, it
simply remains for us to help and save it, if it is in our power.
On the way home I pondered a good deal over the question of how I
should care for it and feed it, and what I could find to keep it in, as
I had no bird-cage.
When I got Master Sparrow home, and had thoroughly warmed him and dried
his little feathers (they were very few!) I put him into the best
substitute for a bird-cage that I could find, and that was a large wire
rat-trap!
The next question was, what to feed him. As I had seen sparrows picking
at the cornmeal which we mixed and gave to the little chickens, I
ventured to put some of it into his cage.
I watched him a good deal, that day and didn't _see_ him eat a morsel.
But as he seemed stronger and more lively the next day, I concluded he
was bashful and only ate when I wasn't looking.
Soon, however, he grew less afraid of me and would hop about and peck
at his food when I was near. I began to vary his diet, too, and gave
him what green slugs I could find on the rosebushes, as well as minced
earthworms. He ate the slugs eagerly and seemed to enjoy tugging at
wriggling bits of earthworm.
He also began to develop quite a voice and "cheeped" so loudly that I
named him "Cheeper."
I grew very fond of him and watched him grow and feather out with great
pride and interest. As he became stronger he grew more eager to get out
of his cage. It quite went to my heart to see him beating against, the
wires, and vainly striving for freedom. But I feared he couldn't take
care of himself; and also that the other birds might not receive him
well.
So I kept him seven days. I put his cage in the window several times
where he could look out on the world and become acquainted with the
colony of sparrows which inhabits the Virginia creeper covering
the north side of our house. He would "cheep" very loudly on these
occasions and try harder than ever to get out. His presence in the
window made a great commotion among the other sparrows, who chirped
excitedly and flew about, taking long looks at him. Two of them went so
far as to alight on his cage.
On the seventh day, at noon, I took his cage to the window and set him
free. He flew the length of the house and settled on a rosebush at the
end of the porch, where he sat for some time, peering about, with his
little head comically hoisting this side and that. Presently, when I
came to the window to see if he were still there, I found he had flown
away; and though I thought I could distinguish his particular "cheep"
several times afterwards, I saw him no more that day. Nor did I expect
to see him again.
I missed him a great deal and was surprised to find how fond of him I
had grown. Imagine my surprise and delight when I went out next morning
to feed the chickens to find little "Cheeper" there before me! He flew
onto the fence when he saw me, but soon flew down again, and hopped
about among the little chicks quite fearlessly. I was afraid the big
chickens would step on him; and, sure enough, the Bantam rooster _did_
walk right over him, but he just squawked and hopped away without any
apparent resentment.
The next morning he was there again, when I went out. This time he
followed a hen about, hopping along with her little chicks as though he
thought himself one of them. He was such a fluffy little fellow, and he
did look so tiny and cunning!
Poor little motherless baby, trying to find a mother in a big hen! That
was the last time I saw him.
Only a despised little English sparrow! Yet, little "Cheeper," you had
your mission in life. You made the heart of one bird-lover more tender
by your helplessness, and your memory is dear to her.