Chipping Sparrow 117 



we sat within a few feet of the tree, both birds 

 would carry into it fine twigs and grasses for 

 the foundation of the nest and, later, long horse 

 hairs which they coiled around and around to 

 form a lining. Where did they get so many 

 hairs? A few might have been switched out 

 of the horses' tails in the stable yard or dropped 

 on the road, but what amazingly bright eyes 

 the birds must have to find them, and how 

 curious that chippies alone, of all the feathered 

 tribe, should always insist upon using them to 

 line their cradles! 



From the back of a settle, the round of a 

 rocking chair, or the gnomon of the sun-dial 

 near the verandah, the little chippy would trill 

 his wiry tremulo, like the locust's hot weather 

 warning, while his mate brooded over five tiny 

 greenish-blue eggs in the boxwood tree. Be- 

 fore even the robin was awake, earlier than 

 dawn, he would start the morning chorus with 

 the simple little trill that answers for a song to 

 express every emotion throughout the long day. 

 Both he and his mate use a chip call note in 

 talking to each other. 



When she was tired brooding, of which she 

 did far more than her share, he would relieve 

 her while she went in search of food. Very often 

 he would carry to the nest a cabbage worm for 

 her or some other refreshing delicacy. The 

 screen door might bang beside her while she sat 



