82 



THE OSPEEY. 



The blizzard which followed, February 1.% 

 was hard on the English Sparrow. The day 

 after, while walking- to office down Seventh 



THE ENGLISH SPARROW. 



street, I saw ten times more men shoveling- 

 snow, than Sparrows. Great numbers must 

 have perished that daj'. But who would think 

 so now? Our streets, our lawns, our parks, our 

 gardens, yea, our very houses are again ten- 

 anted b}' them. They are the most abundant 

 bird of this season and I wish I might devote a 

 length^' chapter on their habits. For although 

 thej' have been called b\" every evil name that 

 in anj'way might be synonymous with goodfor- 

 nothingness, thej^ nevertheless appeal to me as 

 interesting as, if noi more so than many of our 

 native birds. 



They have roosts, basking places and homes 

 proper. The roosts at "Washington are visually 

 in the ivy and creepers which beautifulU* cover 

 many of the buildings and furnish a dense re- 

 treat for the protection of our birds from winds, 

 colds and enemies. The basking places are in- 

 teresting. I know of two. One is a bush in 

 front of the United States National Museum, in 

 the corner where the winding road turns toward 

 Ninth street. Here one is sure to find a goodly 

 company assembled in early morning, when the 

 sun is getting up, basking- in his raj's. Another 

 is not far from this place. It is a shrub on the 

 west side of the walk, leading north from the 

 Smittisonian about half way between the first 

 and second cross-roads. Here, verj' likely the 

 same crowd mounts the twigs to bid Old Sol 

 farewell at eve. 



I have been very nanch interested in their 

 household afl^airs ever since I came to Washing- 

 ton. I think the English Sparrow was the first 

 acquaintance to greet me upon my arrival and I 

 .suppose this accounts for my having an occa- 

 sional word in his favor. I remember entering 

 the Smithsonian grounds by way of Seventh 

 street that day, the day I reported for duty, and 

 at its very entrance above the little g-uard-house, 



in plain view, was a bulky, large nest. What 

 might it be? I had never seen one like it. 

 There were plenty of Sparrows about, but I had 

 never known an English Sparrow to weave a 

 nest in the branches of a tree. The owner, 

 however, soon laid claim to it, and great was my 

 surprise to see that it did belong to Passer 

 dot)icsficiis. I have seen many similarly con- 

 structed, but not this year; the decrease by the 

 blizzard seems not to have been completely 

 made up as yet, and there appear to be enough 

 holes for occupation. For I believe Mr. Passer 

 only resorts to the building of a house when 

 there are none to let. There is no telling where 

 he will not take up his abode. You may find it 

 from a knot-hole which gives him entrance to 

 the space between the weather-boarding and 

 plaster of a dwelling, to cavities in trees and 

 other places, and as a last resort he will build a 

 cradle among the branches themselves. 



He has doubtless come to stay and will outlast 

 all of our native birds, among which I know 

 none so plastic, adaptive and prolific as our 

 English Sparrow. His enemies too, are few, 

 very few — only twice have I seen small Hawks 

 give them chase in the Smithsonian grounds. 

 Once it was the Sharp Shinned, the other time 

 a Pigeon Hawk. His greatest enemy here is 

 the little Screech Owl. One of our neighbors 

 told me that a little Owl had taken up her abode 



The ScREiiCH uwi. i-lAy'/^' ";/■■•• umu). 



