There have been tales told about this curious little rowdy among birds.
He was a nuisance; he drove our song and grub-eating birds away; he also
littered the cornices of buildings and made of himself a pest in
general. There have been other tales told about the cute chap who
perches upon a wire near the window and rocks his clever head toward you
when you tap against the pane; and still another story is told
concerning the lynching of one by a flock of the brisk chaps. Some say
they took a bit of twine, fastened it to a wire, secured the victim, and
induced him to put his head through a loop; then drew the twine and
scattered, leaving a lot of wise men to gaze upon the wonderful
spectacle, which the newspapers took up and printed. I have watched
birds for years and I never saw an incident of the sort—the lynching of
a sparrow by his fellow sparrows! A sparrow has been caught in the loop
of a bit of twine fastened to a wire or a cornice; but no sparrow ever
deliberately put the twine up and lynched one of his rowdy brood. He
wouldn’t do it simply because he hasn’t got bird instinct enough to
follow out such a tragedy. I will tell you a little incident concerning
a sparrow which I know to be true. It didn’t find a place in any
newspaper, either, simply because I never gave it much thought until
now, hence never mentioned it before.
I had noticed upon arising for several mornings in the early spring a
half dozen or so of sparrows congregated in a sunny spot of the roof
below. At first I paid no attention to it, for the sparrow is apt to go
where he pleases, man’s wishes to the contrary notwithstanding. But the
little chaps were there every morning, and in the same sunny spot. I was
curious to know why they came there, and I went down stairs one morning
to watch them from a more close point of observation. I got there before
they came. I stood back of a closed blind, peeped through the slats and
waited. When the sun-rays fell upon the spot close to the window the
little fellows began to come—each with a morsel of food. They twittered
and hopped about as if they were enjoying the morning fancy. Then they
scattered and took wings to chimneys, cornices and wires. I opened the
blinds and looked out. I saw one lone, little sparrow feeding. I bent
over the sill. He did not fly away. I reached out and took him in. He
fluttered and struggled. His eyes were covered with a film. He was
blind.
H. S. Keller.
THE WHITE-THROATED SPARROW.
(_Zonotrichia albicollis._)
“The sparrows are all meek and lowly birds.” They are not clothed in a
plumage of gorgeous hues, but are endowed with melodious voices in
harmony with their surroundings. “Theirs are the quaint lullaby songs of
childhood.” Their plain coats are a means of protection, for they
frequent the fields, the hedges and the low shrubs of the woodland
borders. Some of their relatives, the grosbeaks, the goldfinch and the
finches, are more brilliantly colored and are more arboreal in their
habits.
The White-throated Sparrow (Zonotrichia albicollis) is one of the
handsomest of the sparrows. It is one of the exquisite parts of nature.
Migratory in habits, its range covers all of Eastern North America,
nesting from Michigan and Massachusetts northward and wintering from the
latter state southward to Florida.
Its scientific name is descriptive of the marked color characteristics
of its crown and throat. Zonotrichia means hair or crown bands, and
albicollis is from the Latin meaning white-throated. It is sometimes
called Peabody Bird, especially by the New Englanders, with whom Peabody
is an important traditional name, and they hear the birds say in its
song “I—I Pea-body, Pea-body, Pea-body.” This rendering of its plaintive
song is a caricature, yet the name clings to the bird even in other
parts of the country. The reserved manner of its movements would hardly
lead one to expect that a beautiful song could flow from its white
throat. This song is so well defined that the notation may be written on
the musical staff. Mr. Chapman says: “In September, when the hedgerows
and woodland undergrowths begin to rustle with sparrows, juncos and
towhees, I watch eagerly for the arrival of these welcome fall
songsters.” We cannot forbear quoting the words of that great student of
bird life, Audubon, who says of the White-Throat’s habit in autumn, “How
it comes and how it departs are quite unknown to me. I can only say
that, all of a sudden, the edges of the fields bordering on creeks or
swampy places and overgrown with different species of vines, sumac
bushes, briers and the taller kinds of grasses, appear covered with
birds. They form groups, sometimes containing from thirty to fifty
individuals, and live together in harmony. They are constantly moving up
and down among these recesses, with frequent jerkings of the tail, and
uttering a note common to the tribe. From the hedges and thickets they
issue one by one, in quick succession, and ramble to the distance of
eight or ten yards, hopping and scratching, in quest of small seeds, and
preserving the utmost silence. When the least noise is heard or alarm
given, and frequently, as I thought, without any alarm at all, they all
fly back to their covert, pushing directly into the thickest part of it.
A moment elapses, when they become reassured, and ascending to the
highest branches and twigs open a little concert, which, although of
short duration, is extremely sweet. There is much plaintive softness in
their note, which I wish, kind reader, I could describe to you; but this
is impossible, although it is yet ringing in my ears, as if I were in
those very fields where I have so often listened to it with delight. No
sooner is their music over than they return to the field, and thus
continue alternately sallying forth and retreating during the greater
part of the day. At the approach of night they utter a sharper note,
consisting of a single twit, repeated in a smart succession by the whole
group, and continuing until the first hooting of some owl frightens them
into silence. Yet, often during fine nights I have heard the little
creatures emit, here and there, a twit, as if to assure each other that
all’s well.”
[Illustration: WHITE-THROATED SPARROW.
(Zonotrichia albicollis.)
About Life-size.
FROM COL. CHI. ACAD. SCIENCES.]
The nest, too, is a neat creation of small roots, coarse grass, bark and
moss and lined with a bedding of fine grass and moss. It is usually
placed on the ground in fields or open woods, where it is protected by
the taller grasses. Sometimes, however, low bushes or the lower branches
of trees are selected. So careful is the White-Throat in the
constructing of its nest not to disturb the surrounding vegetation, and
so neutral is the color of the material used, that one may hunt for a
long time without finding it unless he luckily stumbles upon it.