14 Birds of Lakeside and Prairie 



Between these size extremes of the feathered kingdom there 

 can be found few birds that do not on some April or Septem- 

 ber day find their way into Lincoln Park. 



In this day when the bullying English sparrow is abroad 

 in the land, it hardly seems possible that it can be the same 

 native bird individuals that drop into the parks year by year. 

 If the same birds do come back, they must have either short 

 memories or spirits forgiving enough to rank them with the 

 saints. The sparrows never cease their persecutions. At 

 times tragedies result, and at other times the sparrows' en- 

 counters with his American cousins take on the semblance of 

 broad comedy. One spring morning, just at sunrise, I saw a 

 bittern drop into the damp grasses along the edge of the 

 south Lincoln Park pond. The sparrows discovered the big 

 bog-trotter as soon as I did. They weighed down the willow 

 branches just above his head, and were all talking at once and 

 at the tops of their voices. They asked the bittern what he 

 was doing there, what right he had on sacred sparrow soil, 

 where he got his long legs, and why he needed a bill the size 

 of a plumber's. They questioned him and jeered at him for 

 five minutes, but he answered not a word. Finally the stake- 

 driver, as the bittern is called in swamp society, became tired 

 of the noise and flew to the little willow-planted island in the 

 middle of the pond. A small bird rarely attacks a larger one 

 when the object of attack is at rest. On the ground or in a 

 tree the assaulted one can readily use its weapons of offense 

 and defense. On the wing, however, it is a different matter. 

 No sooner had the bittern left the ground in lumbering flight 

 than the sparrows descended upon him in a cloud, each one 

 pecking the hapless visitor in passing. Some of the assailants 

 fairly rode on his back using both beak and claw to his tor- 



