54 THE BIRDS OF THE BRITISH ISLES. 



most of his colonies — a bird of European civilisation. Sparrow- 

 migration has been denied, yet in autumn immigration on the 

 east coast and emigration from the south has been noted. On 

 the south-east coast of Yorkshire, early in October, 1911, I saw 

 immense flocks of passing Sparrows, and a few days later 

 similar movements were observed in Suffolk. 



So familiar a bird needs little description, yet it is often con- 

 fused with the smaller and slimmer Tree- Sparrow, which, how- 

 ever, has a coppery and not grey crown, two distinct wing bars, 

 and a black patch on the cheeks. Gregarious at all seasons — 

 in its nesting colonies, autumnal raids and communal roosts — 

 the bird by its very abundance becomes a nuisance. True, its 

 young are fed on larvae of insects, often destructive species, but 

 no sooner can they fly than they are led to the cornfields, where 

 an immense amount of ripe grain is devoured and as much 

 wasted, shaken from the ears. In spring our flowers, especially 

 yellow blossoms, are attacked and torn to bits ; crocuses, 

 primroses and aconites seem to annoy it most, but strange pre- 

 ference is shown for certain flowers in different gardens. I 

 have known primroses to be nipped off and crocuses spared, 

 whilst in the next garden the attack was reversed. Seeds of 

 weeds are certainly eaten, but seedling peas and other useful 

 plants are pulled up. Were the bird more agile on the wing it 

 would destroy many butterflies and moths, for it never fails to 

 hunt the passing white butterfly and even the big yellow- 

 underwing ; unfortunately it is an indifferent flycatcher. I have 

 notes of successful attacks upon aphides, and there is presump- 

 tive evidence of destruction of coccids which few birds succeed 

 in finding. On one occasion I watched a number of Sparrows 

 hanging like tits to willow twigs, eagerly devouring the saw-fly 

 larvae which were defoliating the trees, and when the green 

 tortrix attacks the oak the birds hover awkwardly to snatch at 

 the grubs that swing suspended by silk threads. The simple 

 twittering love-song begins early in the year, a series of chirps 



