158 Bird -Lore 



In llic preceding paper of this series I have tried to convey, with, I fear, 

 but poor success, some idea of the marvels of sea bird-life of the Peruvian coast. 

 Here I shall write of the wayside birds one sees ashore. 



As usual on the Pacitic coast, the steamer dropped anchor some distance from 

 shore, and we landed at Callao in one of the fleet of small boats which, like 

 aquatic hacks, crowd about the gangplank, with Cormorants bobbing up and 

 under, here and there, almost until we reached the quay. From the electric 

 train, which takes us rapidly over the eight miles between the port of Callao and 

 Lima, it is probable we shall see fields white with Gulls, attracted, doubtless, 

 by freshly plowed ground, and with them we defmitely leave behind us the 

 birds of the sea. 



Lima, fortunately, has thus far escaped the House Sparrow pest, and, in- 

 deed, is distinguished by having a Swallow (Atticora cyanoleuca) as its char- 

 acteristic, in fact, only street bird. It is a Swallow somewhat smaller than, but 

 resembling in form and color, our Tree Swallow, but with the low-dashing, 

 reckless flight of a Barn Swallow. It darts through the traffic of Lima, skim- 

 ming the pavement, and surprising you at times by the nearness of its approach. 

 Beyond a superabundance of house-flies, due we may be sure to no desirable 

 cause, I detected no winged insects on which these blue-coated 'police of the 

 air' might feed, and if they confined their activities to capturing these dissemi- 

 nators of disease, they were performing a service which should win them a 

 warm place in the hearts of all Limenos. At dusk a swarm of Nighthawks 

 appeared above the house-tops to carry on in their special field the war on 

 insects which the Swallows waged by day. 



One cannot go far in a South American city without finding a park or plaza 

 with, even in desert regions, trees, bushes and plants. And one cannot go far 

 in any plaza in Lima without seeing, and generally hearing, a Sparrow slightly 

 larger than a Song Sparrow, with a white throat bordered by black patches 

 and rufous, and with a slight crest. I know of no distinctive native name for 

 this bird. Andean White-throat it has been called in books, and at one time it 

 was placed in the genus Zonotrichia. South American Song Sparrow (Brachy- 

 spiza capensis) it has also been called, and since it is not confined to the Andes 

 but is distributed throughout South America, where it takes much the same 

 place that the Song Sparrow does with us, it may perhaps be well called White- 

 throated Song Sparrow. 



The bird is so abundant, sings so freely and so large a part of the year, that 

 no ornithologist can have much field experience in those portions of South 

 America in which it is found without establishing many associations with it. 

 Each time I return to South America, I anticipate meeting this Sparrow with 

 the same pleasure that one looks forward to seeing a friend with whom one has 

 much in common, and the first note of its song opens the door to a host of 

 half-forgotten scenes and memories. 



Like many effective bird-songs, it is very simple: three long-drawn, sweet. 



