FOX SPARROW. Vip 
when he sings his sweet song wins your friendship 
on the spot. But he has one habit that exasper- 
ates an observer. There is a field of low bushes 
on the north side of “ Paradise,” and I have chased 
after him through it until I quite forgot that he 
had any virtues! No sooner would I hear his 
song, catch a glimpse of a brown back, and creep 
up softly within opera-glass range, than lo! there 
he would be hopping about singing from a bush a 
rod away ! 
LVIII. 
FOX SPARROW. 
In the spring of 1887 the fox sparrows were 
here for some time, coming occasionally to eat 
buckwheat on the corn boxes with the tree spar- 
rows and juncos. They were large, fat birds, 
strikingly bluish-slate about the head, and rich 
reddish-brown on the wings, lower part of back, 
and tail. The centres of the breast markings 
were set in an ochraceous suffusion. 
They came to the boxes much more timidly 
than the other birds, slipping in quietly for a few 
mouthfuls, as if afraid of being seen. But they 
made themselves at home in the saplings on the 
edge of the woods right back of the house, singing 
in the sun quite fearlessly, even when I was walk- 
ing about on the crust, staring at them through 
