Many people say they love Nature, but as they have little time to go into
the country they have to depend on books for most of their information
concerning birds, flowers, and other forms of life. There is, however, no
reason why one should not, even in the heart of a great city, begin to
cultivate his powers of observation. Let us take, for example, the
omnipresent English sparrow. Most of us probably know the difference
between the male and female English sparrows, but I venture to say that
not one in ten persons could give a satisfactory description of the
colours of either. How much we look and how little we really see!
Little can be said in favour of the English sparrows' disposition, but let
us not blame them for their unfortunate increase in numbers. Man brought
them from England, where they are kept in check by Nature's wise laws.
These birds were deliberately introduced where Nature was not prepared for
them.
When we put aside prejudice we can see that the male bird, especially when
in his bright spring colours, is really very attractive, with his ashy
gray head, his back streaked with black and bay, the white bar on his
wings and the jet black chin and throat contrasting strongly with the
uniformly light-coloured under parts. If this were a rare bird the
"black-throated sparrow" would enjoy his share of admiration.
It is wonderful how he can adapt himself to new conditions, nesting
anywhere and everywhere, and this very adaptation is a sign of a very high
order of intelligence. He has, however, many characteristics which tell us
of his former life. A few of the habits of this bird may be misleading.
His thick, conical bill is made for crushing seeds, but he now feeds on so
many different substances that its original use, as shown by its shape, is
obscured. If there were such a thing as vaudeville among birds, the common
sparrow would be a star imitator. He clings to the bark of trees and picks
out grubs, supporting himself with his tail like a woodpecker; he launches
out into the air, taking insects on the wing like a flycatcher; he clings
like a chickadee to the under side of twigs, or hovers in front of a heap
of insect eggs, presenting a feeble imitation of a hummingbird. These
modes of feeding represent many different families of birds.
Although his straw and feather nests are shapeless affairs, and he often
feeds on garbage, all aesthetic feeling is not lost, as we see when he
swells out his black throat and white cravat, spreads tail and wing and
beseeches his lady-love to admire him. Thus he woos her as long as he is
alone, but when several other eager suitors arrive, his patience gives
out, and the courting turns into a football game. Rough and tumble is the
word, but somehow in the midst of it all, her highness manages to make her
mind known and off she flies with the lucky one. Thus we have represented,
in the English sparrows, the two extremes of courtship among birds.
It is worth noting that the male alone is ornamented, the colours of the
female being much plainer. This dates from a time when it was necessary
for the female to be concealed while sitting on the eggs. The young of
both sexes are coloured like their mother, the young males not acquiring
the black gorget until perfectly able to take care of themselves. About
the plumage there are some interesting facts. The young bird moults twice
before the first winter. The second moult brings out the mark on the
throat, but it is rusty now, not black in colour; his cravat is grayish
and the wing bar ashy. In the spring, however, a noticeable change takes
place, but neither by the moulting nor the coming in of plumage. The
shaded edges of the feathers become brittle and break off, bringing out
the true colours and making them clear and brilliant. The waistcoat is
brushed until it is black and glossy, the cravat becomes immaculate, and
the wristband or wing bar clears up until it is pure white.
The homes of these sparrows are generally composed of a great mass of
straw and feathers, with the nest in the centre; but the spotted eggs,
perhaps, show that these birds once built open nests, the dots and marks
on the eggs being of use in concealing their conspicuous white ground.
Something seems already to have hinted to Nature that this protection is
no longer necessary, and we often find eggs almost white, like those of
woodpeckers and owls, which nest in dark places.
We have all heard of birds flocking together for some mutual benefit--the
crows, for instance, which travel every winter day across country to
favourite "roosts." In the heart of a city we can often study this same
phenomenon of birds gathering together in great flocks. In New York City,
on One Hundred and Twenty-fifth Street, there stands a tree--a solitary
reminder of the forest which once covered all this paved land. To this,
all winter long, the sparrows begin to flock about four or five o'clock in
the afternoon. They come singly and in twos and threes until the bare
limbs are black with them and there seems not room for another bird; but
still they come, each new arrival diving into the mass of birds and
causing a local commotion. By seven o'clock there are hundreds of English
sparrows perching in this one tree. At daylight they are off again,
whirring away by scores, and in a few minutes the tree is silent and
empty. The same habit is to be seen in many other cities and towns, for
thus the birds gain mutual warmth.
Nature will do her best to diminish the number of sparrows and to regain
the balance, but to do this the sparrow must be brought face to face with
as many dangers as our wild birds, and although, owing to the sparrows'
fearlessness of man, this may never happen, yet at least the colour
protections and other former safeguards are slowly being eliminated. On
almost every street we may see albino or partly albino birds, such as
those with white tails or wings. White birds exist in a wild state only
from some adaptation to their surroundings. A bird which is white simply
because its need of protection has temporarily ceased, would become the
prey of the first stray hawk which crossed its path. We cannot hope to
exterminate the English sparrow even by the most wholesale slaughter, but
if some species of small hawk or butcher bird could ever become as
fearless an inhabitant of our cities as these birds, their reduction to
reasonable numbers would be a matter of only a few months.
So dainty in plumage and hue,
A study in gray and brown,
How little, how little we knew
The pest he would prove to the town!
From dawn until daylight grows dim,
Perpetual chatter and scold.
No winter migration for him,
Not even afraid of the cold!
Scarce a song-bird he fails to molest,
Belligerent, meddlesome thing!
Wherever he goes as a guest
He is sure to remain as a King.
Mary Isabella Forsyth.