THE BIRD OF THE STREET. 193 



of sparrow-life, whether a domestic skirmish, 

 the first outing of a young family, or some dan- 

 ger to a nest, than a crowd collects, not merely 

 as interested spectators, but quite ready and 

 willing to take a hand in any sport or crime 

 that is going ; not only a hand, but a voice as 

 well. Loud cries always announce when a rab- 

 ble is at work. Whether, as declared by some 

 observers, they drive away our native birds by 

 this means I am not sure. I have seen them 

 annoy the cat-bird, the robin, and the Baltimore 

 oriole, but in each case they were put to flight 

 by the native bird ; though no doubt the ex- 

 perience is suflSciently disagreeable to induce 

 either of these birds to select a more retired 

 neighborhood for nest-building. I once noticed 

 the same tactics successfully applied to a cat 

 which climbed up among the nests. 



Even his courtship is carried on in mob 

 style. Little combats of half a dozen or more 

 of sparrows on the ground are a common sight 

 of our city streets in the spring. Many have 

 noticed that the belligerents were all males, and 

 their efforts directed against one female, but 

 closer watching reveals the motive behind the 

 action. The noisy, screaming crowd are not 

 her enemies, they are her lovers ; each one de- 

 sires her undivided attention, and attempts to 

 secure it in the only way possible to a rowdy* 



13 



