WINTER NEIGHBORS. T1 
these sparrows, as they long have had to do on the 
continent of Europe. And yet it will be hard to kill 
the little wretches, the only Old World bird we have. 
When I take down my gun to shoot them I shall prob- 
ably remember that the Psalmist said, «I watch, and 
am as a sparrow alone upon the house-top,” and may- 
be the recollection will cause me to stay my hand. 
The sparrows have the Old World hardiness and pro- 
lificness ; they are wise and tenacious of life, and we 
shall find it by and by no small matter to keep them 
in check. Our native birds are much different, less 
prolific, less shrewd, less aggressive and persistent, 
less quick-witted and able to read the note of danger 
or hostility, — in short, less sophisticated. Most of 
our birds are yet essentially wild, that is, little changed 
by civilization. In winter, especially, they sweep by 
me and around me in flocks, — the Canada sparrow, 
the snow-bunting, the shore-lark, the pine grosbeak, 
the red-poll, the cedar-bird, — feeding upon frozen 
apples in the orchard, upon cedar-berries, upon ma- 
ple-buds, and the berries of the mountain ash, and 
the celtis, and upon the seeds of the weeds that rise 
above the snow in the field, or upon the hay-seed 
dropped where the cattle have been foddered in the 
barn-yard or about the distant stack; but yet taking 
no heed of man, in no way changing their habits so 
as to take advantage of his presence in nature. The 
pine grosbeak will come in numbers upon your porch 
to get the black drupes of the honeysuckle or the 
woodbine, or within reach of your windows to get the 
berries of the mountain-ash, but they know you not; 
they look at you as innocently and unconcernedly as 
at a bear or moose in their native north, and your 
house is no more to them than a ledge of rocks. 
