SPARROWS AND FINCHES 45 



Bluebird and Song Sparrow that first tell us 

 spring has come, there arrives a bird in a bright 

 cinnamon brown suit so red that he is called the 

 Fox Sparrow. This name applies only to his 

 color, for he possesses none of the sly traits 

 usually attributed to Reynard. Rather is he a 

 bold and trustful bird, decidedly social in his 

 habits, for during migration we almost always 

 find them in good-sized flocks of Juncos and 

 White-throated Sparrows. In the open country 

 I often find them in bush ricks along the old 

 walls, in alder runs, or along the banks of the 

 streams. In the city parks I find them in thick 

 shrubbery under a sheltering hill where the 

 bleak winds do not reach. Often in the early 

 spring you will hear a rustling in the dead leaves 

 so loud that you are almost convinced that a 

 flock of hens is at work. They scratch with both 

 feet at once, a most effective process, judging 

 from the way they make the leaves fly. They are 

 searching for grubs and insects, and are pretty 

 constantly at work during the two or three weeks 

 they are with us. 



As singers they rank very high, but it is not 

 often that we are favored with their full song, 

 which is reserved until their arrival on the nest- 

 ing ground far to the north. I have been so for- 

 tunate as to hear them sing in Prospect Park, 

 Brooklyn, a rich, deep, well rounded carol, elo- 

 quent of the joy of life. 



When returning in the late fall, they are 

 silent, except for the call note, a rather low and 

 lisping *' ^cAz^," which becomes louder and more 

 emphatic when the bird is alarmed. They linger 



