Length -- 5 to 6 inches. Smaller than the English sparrow, or the
size of a canary.
Male -- In certain lights rich blue, deepest on head. In another
light the blue feathers show verdigris tints. Wings, tail, and
lower back with brownish wash, most prominent in autumn
plumage. Quills of wings and tail deep blue, margined with
light.
Female -- Plain sienna-brown above. Yellowish on breast and
shading to white underneath, and indistinctly streaked. Wings
and tail darkest, sometimes with slight tinge of blue in outer
webs and on shoulders.
Range -- North America, from Hudson Bay to Panama. Most common in
eastern part of United States. Winters in Central America and
Mexico.
Migrations -- May. September. Summer resident.
The "glowing indigo" of this tropical-looking visitor that so delighted
Thoreau in the Walden woods, often seems only the more intense by comparison
with the blue sky, against which it stands out in relief as the bird perches
singing in a tree-top. What has this gaily dressed, dapper little cavalier in
common with his dingy sparrow cousins that haunt the ground and delight in
dust-baths, leaving their feathers no whit more dingy than they were before,
and in temper, as in plumage, suggesting more of earth than of heaven?
Apparently he has nothing, and yet the small brown bird in the roadside
thicket, which you have misnamed a sparrow, not noticing the glint of blue in
her shoulders and tail, is his mate. Besides the structural resemblances,
which are, of course, the only ones considered by ornithologists in
classifying birds, the indigo buntings have several sparrowlike traits. They
feed upon the ground, mainly upon seeds of grasses and herbs, with a few
insects interspersed to give relish to the grain; they build grassy nests in
low bushes or tall, rank grass; and their flight is short and labored. Borders
of woods, roadside thickets, and even garden shrubbery, with open pasture lots
for foraging grounds near by, are favorite haunts of these birds, that return
again and again to some preferred spot. But however close to our homes they
build theirs, our presence never ceases to be regarded by them with anything
but suspicion, not to say alarm. Their metallic cheep, cheep, warns you to
keep away from the little blue-white eggs, hidden away securely in the bushes;
and the nervous tail twitchings and jerkings are pathetic to see. Happily for
the safety of their nest, the brooding mother has no tell-tale feathers to
attract the eye. Dense foliage no more conceals the male bird's brilliant coat
than it can the tanager's or oriole's.
With no attempt at concealment, which he doubtless understands would be quite
impossible, he chooses some high, conspicuous perch to which he mounts by easy
stages, singing as he goes; and there begins a loud and rapid strain that
promises much, but growing weaker and weaker, ends as if the bird were either
out of breath or too, weak to finish. Then suddenly he begins the same song
over again, and keeps up this continuous performance for nearly half an hour.
The noonday heat of an August day that silences nearly every other voice,
seems to give to the indigo bird's only fresh animation and timbre.