Making New Friends 23 



auricular space told me plainly who the little charmers 

 were. Not at the moment, however, for the birds were 

 new to me, and I had to wait until I could consult my 

 manual before I was able to decide that they were the 

 clay-colored sparrows. 



Their song is an odd vocal performance a low, 

 croaking trill, preceded by a few longer notes, all delivered 

 in the same key. It is, in fact, a contralto solo divided 

 into brief stanzas, and easily might be mistaken for the 

 grating buzz of an insect, especially if heard at a distance 

 of a few rods. It possesses little or no musical quality, 

 and is perhaps the most curious style of bird minstrelsy 

 with which I am acquainted. In comparison the chip- 

 pie's trill sounds loud and clear and bell-like, with a 

 distinctly melodious quality of tone. The song of the 

 little clay-colored sparrow is also marked by a kind of 

 drawl, giving one the impression that the bird is just a 

 little too lazy to exert himself; yet when you get him 

 in the field of your glass and see him throw back his head, 

 expand his throat and chest, and open his mandibles as 

 wide as he can, you quickly decide that he is not the 

 apathetic creature his desultory song would lead you to 

 infer. It really is laughable, and almost pathetic, too, 

 to note how much energy he expends in the production 

 of his poor little aria. 



Indeed, not in the least sluggish is the blood flowing 

 in the veins of Spizella pallida, for he is a vivacious little 

 body, flitting about actively in the hedges and bushes, 

 and sometimes mounting into the trees, chanting his 



