122 '/ HABITS OF BIRDS. 
When a flock of sparrows, accordingly, alight in the 
corner of a wheatfield, and, as Bloomfield says, 
“ Drop one by one upon the bending corn,”* 
we may always be certain of discovering one, or 
perhaps several, perched on some commanding sta- 
tion in the adjacent hedgerow, prying into the 
probable design of every movement among men or 
animals which lie within ken of the watch-tower. 
The instant the sentinel perceives anything which 
he deems worthy of notice, he gives his well-known 
signal, at which the whole flock hurry off from their 
banquet with the utmost celerity and trepidation. 
Their fears are, for the most part, only momentary ; 
for, as soon as they ascertain that there is no im- 
mediate danger, they hasten back to finish their 
meal. 
From all we have been able to observe, there 
does not seem to be anything like an election or 
appointment of such sentinels. The fact appears 
rather to be, that, probably from being less impelled 
by the calls of hunger, the bird of the flock who 
chances to be the last in venturing to alight, feels 
then reluctant to join his companions, in conse- 
quence of an instinctive foresight that they might all 
be thence exposed to danger. We only offer this, 
however, as a plausible conjecture, which appears 
more applicable to the case of sparrows than to 
that of some other gregarious birds. Were we 
disposed, indeed, to indulge in the fancies sometimes 
found in books of natural history, we might give 
the sparrows credit not only for appointing senti- 
nels, but for trying them for neglect of duty by a 
regular court-martial. 
Sparrow-courts, or assemblies of sparrows for 
some common object regarding one of their com- 
munity, are of frequent occurrence ; and, in truth, 
* Farmer’s Boy, 
