200 BIRDS OF THE PLAINS 



arrive. Sparrows are early roosters. Something ap- 

 proaching three thousand of them are now perched in 

 that small hedge, yet none are visible except those that 

 pop in and out, when jockeyed out of positions they 

 have taken up. But although only a few sparrows come 

 in after the sun has set, it is not until fully fifteen minutes 

 later that there is any appreciable abatement of the din. 

 It then becomes more spasmodic ; it ceases for half a 

 second, to burst forth again with undiminished intensity. 



Twenty minutes or so after sunset the clamour be- 

 comes suddenly less. It is now possible to discern in- 

 dividual voices. The noise grows rapidly feebler. It 

 almost ceases, but again becomes louder. It then nearly 

 stops a second time. Perhaps not more than twenty 

 voices are heard. There is yet another outburst, but the 

 twitterers are by now very sleepy. Suddenly there is 

 perfect silence for a few seconds, then more feeble twit- 

 tering, then another silence longer than the last. 



It is not yet dark, there is still a bright glow in the 

 western sky. The periods of silence grow more pro- 

 longed and the outbursts of twittering become more 

 faint and of shorter duration. 



It is now thirty-nine minutes after the sun has set and 

 perfect stillness reigns. The birds must have all fallen 

 asleep. But no ! one wakeful fellow commences again. 

 He soon subsides. It has grown so dark that you can 

 no longer see the sparrow-hawk perched on a tree hard 

 by. He took up his position there early in the evening, 

 and will probably breakfast first thing to-morrow morn- 

 ing off sparrow ! 



You now softly approach the bushes until your face 



