ENGLISH SPARROW 19 



flock of 12 fly swiftly and directly to one tree; 4:10 p.m.: there are now about 150 

 sparrows present, but new ones are coming sailing in with wings wide spread from 

 over or between the surrounding high buildings. They fly with astonishing 

 swiftness and directness, projected as it were from space directly into the roost — 

 is it the city rush and scramble for position? At 4:15 p.m. It is now raining 

 birds. I have seen only one alight on a building before entering the roost; they 

 are in too much of a hurry to get there. The trees are a scene of great activity 

 and the noise rises above the roar of the city's streets. The birds are crowding 

 together in the trees, constantly fighting and flying about as they are forced from 

 their perches. At 4:30 the birds are still coming, but by 4:45 there is a noticeable 

 diminution in the numbers of the coming birds and by 5 o'clock the movement 

 has ceased with the exception of a few stragglers. Many are now spreading their 

 wings and tails and composing themselves for sleep. At 5:30 the roost is still 

 noisy but many are fast asleep, and before long all is quiet. 



He describes the morning awakening as follows: 



On November 26, 1905, I watched the King's Chapel roost wake up and depart 

 about its day's business. All were asleep and quiet until 6 o'clock when the first 

 chirp was heard, while the stars were still shining, and the first movement took 

 place at 6:05, when a sparrow flew from one branch to another. The sleeping 

 ones had their heads depressed in front, or the head turned around with the bill 

 concealed in the feathers of the back. A sudden general chirping begins at 6:07 

 and a few buzz about from branch to branch. The chirping swells into a continu- 

 ous volume of sound, not the chorus of the spring, but a confused conversational 

 chirping noise as if all were talking at once. Birds buzz about with rapid wing 

 vibrations, suggestive of hummingbirds. The first one flies off in an unsteady way 

 as if still half asleep at 6:12. The sound grows louder, although the majority still 

 appear to be asleep. Some are stretching their wings and preening their feathers. 

 The stars are nearly gone. At 6:20 no. 2 flies off uncertainly. 6:25. Now there 

 is greater noise and activity. Many are flying about and a dozen or more have 

 left. All awake seem to enjoy spreading their tails. A considerable proportion 

 sleep on through the hubbub. There is very little fighting compared with the 

 evening. 6:26. Now the birds are leaving constantly. 6:27. They are leaving 

 in bands of 15 or 20 at a time. 6:30 a. m. The stream of outgoers, mostly down 

 Tremont Street to the north, is now continuous and too great to count. The 

 remaining birds are noisy in the extreme, flying about vigorously and filling up the 

 empty trees. 6:35 a.m. It is now broad daylight and the birds are flying off like 

 bees, but more or less in waves. A few still sleep on undisturbed. The sun rose 

 about 6:50 and by that time doubtless all or nearly all of the birds had gone. 



Voice. — Little can be said in favor of the English sparrow's voice, 

 except that it expresses cheerfulness under adverse weather conditions, 

 indicates abundant energy and aggressiveness, but the incessant chirp- 

 ing and chattering that one hears on spring mornings often seems 

 monotonous and soon becomes tiresome. 



Dr. Townsend (1909) describes it very well as follows: 



The "chorus" begins from twenty to thirty minutes before sunrise in April, 

 May and June on bright days — fifteen or twenty minutes later on cloudy days — 

 and lasts in full volume nearly an hour. A few scattering chirps are first heard 

 from the early ones, but the multitudes on vines and trees and house-tops soon take 

 up the theme, and the din is almost deafening. The chief note is chis-ick or tsee-up 

 monotonously repeated, with various modifications, for the most part high pitched 



