AMERICAN ORNITHOLOGY. 143 



NEW YEARS WITH THE BIRDS. 



By Norman O. Foerster. 



Stern winter has once more settled into the dreary succession of bliz- 

 zards, heavy snowfalls, thaws, and cloudless zero weather. To the or- 

 dinary observer, nature never seemed so barren. Yet the country in 

 the season of short days is by no means deserted. There are many 

 birds here yet, more than in the hot days of August when they were 

 moulting. 



Even in the city, bird life other than of the English Sparrow still ex- 

 ists. We need but listen acutely at a weed-grown lot or house site to 

 hear the "chip, chip" of the Song Sparrow, generally a contented chat- 

 ter; but, if we intrude this is augmented to a highly excited protest. 

 In late winter, sometime in February, although the season may show 

 no sign of relentance, his broken spring song will come through the 

 cold mist. 



Often in intimate companionship with this Sparrow of the splashed 

 breast, are the social Juncos, more commonly known as slate-colored 

 Snowbirds. They came with the waning autumn, from the pine woods 

 of Canada and the higher parts of the Appalachian chain and will stay 

 with us until balmy breezes and protracted thaws warn them of the ap- 

 proach of spring. Their note is an insignificant "tsit," constantly 

 uttered, even when feeding. In April, a plain, yet very happy little 

 ditty — a mere trill indeed— marks the height of their musical ability. 



A third Sparrow that sometimes frequents the opener parts of the city 

 is the Tree Sparrow, another Canadian visitor, but somewhat more brief 

 in his stay. Yet the shortness of his presence is more than recompensed 

 by his geniality as long as he does remain with us. There is something 

 suggestively scintillant in his clear, silvery notes. We can scarcely call 

 it a song, yet it makes up in sweetness what it lacks in form. The 

 birds gather in congenial flocks of twenty to a hundred in some imma- 

 culate field pierced by brown weeds. Their distinct foot-prints fairly 

 perforate the snow, and here and there are evidences where some bird 

 has spread his wings over the surface, leaving a perfect imprint. 



An unrelenting enemy of these defenseless little Sparrows is that 

 ogre, the Sparrow Hawk. When seemingly intent on the seed break- 

 fast shaken from the weeds by the last wind, they are ever alert for the 

 wavering, hesitating flight of their arch-enemy. But if seeking his 

 quarry, he does not announce himself boldly. Silently rather, he perch- 

 es on a terminal tree branch from which he may sally and swoop down. 

 He varies his diet with mice, but on the whole is hard-pressed to sub- 

 sist during the winter months. His elation is great, therefore, after a 



