THE BIRDS OF LONDON 173 



the window-sills and in the dust-bins. Few morsels 

 will escape their sharp eyes ; the city is asleep and 

 they have the world to themselves. 



An interesting study in bird-life is the London 

 sparrow now. All the birds are not looking for 

 food. Some are collecting building materials and 

 are making short flights backwards and forwards, 

 returning with straws, bits of rag, and odds and ends 

 in their beaks. This is not the first venture in 

 housekeeping with these ; they have already 

 reared one brood this year, and now they have 

 begun again, and they will rear another before the 

 season is out. The London sparrow is a by- word 

 and proverb among birds for his breeding pro- 

 pensities ; poor little fellow ! it is the only way in 

 which he can manage to make headway against 

 the risks which continually beset his life, and the 

 consequent high death-rate amongst his tribe. 



Look at the crowd of eager nest-builders around 

 that heap of house-sweepings against the dust-bin 

 yonder. One after another of the little odds and 

 ends of rubbish are taken up, weighed in the tiny 

 bills, and found wanting according to some occult 

 standard of the sparrow mind, until at last one 

 suggests some element of fitness and the owner 

 flies merrily away with his find. To give them their 

 due these nest-builders look a somewhat disreputable 

 lot. Sooty they are, hard worked, and with many 

 a feather missing. The cab-horse has a luxurious 

 and well-to-do look compared with a London 

 sparrow in the height of the breeding season. The 

 latter quarrels with his comrades for straws, loses 

 his tail-feathers in duels and love-affairs, plucks 

 out his breast feathers himself to line his nest, and 



