SAVANNAH SPARROW 201 



streaked breast that runs and hides in the grass, whose 

 note sounds so like a cricket's in the gi-ass. (I used to 

 hear it when I walked by moonlight last summer.) I 

 hear it now from deep in the sod, — for there is hardly 

 grass yet. The bird keeps so low you do not see it. You 

 do not suspect how many there are till at length their 

 heads appear. The word seringo reminds me of its note, 

 — as if it were produced by some kind of fine metallic 

 spring. It is an earth-sound. 



March 18, 1853. With regard to my seringo-bird 

 (and others), I think that my good genius withheld his 

 Dame that I might learn his character. 



April 22, 1856. The seringo also sits on a post, with 

 a very distinct yellow line over the eye, and the rhythm 

 of its strain is ker chick \ her che \ ker-char-r-r-r-r | 

 chick, the last two bars being the part chiefly heard. 



TREE SPARROW 



April 2, 1853. The tree sparrows and a few blue 

 snowbirds in company sing (the former) very sweetly 

 in the garden this morning. I now see a faint spot on 

 the breast. It says something like a twee twee, chit chit, 

 chit chit chee var-r. 



Jan. 1, 1854. The snow is the great betrayer. It not 

 only shows the tracks of mice, otters, etc., etc., which 

 else we should rarely if ever see, but the tree sparrows 

 are more plainly seen against its white ground, and they 

 in turn are attracted by the dark weeds which it reveals. 

 It also drives the crows and other birds out of the woods 

 to the villages for food. 



March 30, 1854. Great flocks of tree sparrows and 



