My first meeting with the blithesome house-finch of the west occurred in
the city of Denver, Colo. It could not properly be called a formal
introduction, but was none the less welcome on that account. I had
scarcely stepped out upon the busy street before I was accosted with a
kind of half twitter and half song that was new to my eastern ears.
“Surely that is not the racket of the English sparrow, it is too
musical,” I remarked to the friend walking by my side.
Peering among the trees and houses, caring little for the people who
stopped to stare at me, I presently focused my field-glass upon a small,
finch-like bird, whose body was striped with gray and brown, and whose
crown, face, breast and rump were beautifully tinged or washed with
crimson. What could this chipper little city chap be, with his trim form
and pretty manners, in such marked contrast with those of the alien
English sparrow? Afterward he was identified as the house-finch, which
rejoices in the high-sounding Latin name of Carpodacus mexicanus
frontalis. He is rather an exclusive little bird, his range being only
from the eastern border of the Rocky Mountains to the Pacific coast,
chiefly south of the fortieth degree of north latitude in the interior
regions.
He is certainly an attractive little fellow, and I wish we could offer
sufficient inducements to bring him east. A bird like him is a boon and
an ornament to the streets and parks of any city that he graces with his
presence. No selfish recluse is he—no, indeed! In no dark gulch or arid
wilderness, “far from human neighborhood,” does he take up his abode. He
prefers the companionship of man to the solitudes of nature. In this
respect he bears likeness to the English sparrow, but be it remembered
that there the resemblance stops. Even his chirruping is musical as he
flies overhead or protests from a tree or a telegraph wire against your
ill-bred espionage. He and his more plainly clad mate build a neat
cottage for their bairns about the houses, but do not clog up the
spouting and make themselves a nuisance otherwise, as is the manner of
their English cousins.
This finch is a minstrel, not one of the first class perhaps, but one
that merits a high place among the minor songsters. I am tempted to call
him an urban Arion, for there is real melody in his swinging, galloping
little aria, running up and down the chromatic scale in a remarkable
way. Many times did his matin voluntaries mingle with my half-waking
morning dreams, as he is an early riser. His song is quite a complicated
performance, considerably prolonged, and delivered with great rapidity,
as if the busy minstrel were in a hurry to have done so that he could
get at something else.
In my rambles he was found, not only in the cities of the plains,
including Denver, Colorado Springs and Pueblo, but also in nearly all
the mountain towns visited, Leadville, over ten thousand feet skyward,
being, I believe, an exception. In the villages of Red Cliff and
Glenwood, both beyond the continental divide, he was the same sprightly
citizen, making himself very much at home. My observation is that these
finches are more plentiful on the plains than in the higher altitudes
and that they seldom venture farther up into the mountains than 8,000 or
9,000 feet. To give an example, in a recent rambling trip among the
Rockies a few were seen at Georgetown, which is 8,476 feet above sea
level; but my notes contain no record of this species having been seen
in any of the higher localities visited.
Much as this finch cherishes the society of man, he is quite wary, and
does not fancy being watched. As long as you go on your way without
seeming to notice him, he also goes on his way, coming into plain sight
and chirping and singing; but just stop to ogle him with your glass and
see how quickly he will dart away or esconce himself behind a clump of
foliage, uttering a protest which seems to say, “Why doesn’t that old
fellow go about his own business!”
If in some way the American house-finch could be induced to come east,
and the English sparrow could be given papers of extradition, the
exchange would be a relief and benefit to the whole country.
Leander S. Keyser.