114 



CHIPPING SPARROW 



no ill effects, jumi^ed onto my father's finger, and, 

 sitting there, ate his breakfast. The ice once 

 broken, ' Dick,' as we christened him, seemed to 

 lose all fear, and from that time always ate his 

 breakfast from my father's hand. . . . This con- 

 tinued all the summer, but when fall came, with 

 the first cold blasts Dick took his departure for 

 the summer regions of 

 the south. The next 

 April, however, he re- 

 turned and without any 

 hesitation came one 

 morning to my father's 

 call and in his old accus- 

 tomed way ate his break- 

 fast from my father's 

 hand. Dick and his mate 

 built their nest in the 

 vines which clambered 

 over our piazza and 

 spent the summer with 

 us. . . . This year he has 

 gone farther, as he has 

 several times, while sit- 

 ting on my father's hand, 

 ceased eating and poured forth his song of 

 thanks. ... It has long been known that birds 

 would return to the same locality year after year, 

 but that a wild bird should remember a person's 

 voice and come back after his long wandering as 



Fig. 56. 

 Crab Grass, eaten by Chip- 

 ping" Sparrow. 



