47-t FOOD OF THE SPARROW. 



horses, as they deliberately drag their load over the country roads, the noisy cabs and 

 omnibuses as they rattle over the city pavements, and the snorting, puffing engines, 

 as they dash through the stations with a velocity that makes the earth tremble beneath 

 their terrible rush. 



Although its ordinary food consists of insects and grain, both of which articles it can 

 only obtain in the open country, it accommodates itself to a town life with perfect ease, 

 and picks up a plentiful subsistence upon the various refuse that is thrown daily out of 

 town houses, and which, before it is handed over to the dustman, is made by the Sparrow 

 to yield many a meal. Indeed, the appetite of this bird is so accommodating, that there 

 is hardly any article of human diet on which the Sparrow will not feed ; and it may often 

 be seen sharing with its family a dry crust of bread, some fragments of potatoes, any of 

 the refuse of a greengrocer's shop, or even sitting upon a bone and picking it with great 

 contentment. In market-places, especially in those where vegetables are sold, as Covent 

 Garden and Farringdon Market, the Sparrow appears in great force, and, in no way 

 daunted by the multitudes of busy human beings that traverse the locality, flutters about 

 their very feet, and feeds away without displaying the least alarm. 



In the Zoological Gardens, and indeed in all large aviaries, the Sparrow is quite 

 in its element, pushing its way through the meshes of the wire 'roofs and fronts, pecking 

 at the food supplied to the birds within, and retreating through the wires if attacked by 

 the rightful owners of the plundered food. Even the majestic eagle is not free from the 

 depredations of the Sparrow, who hops through the bars of the cage with great impudence, 

 feeds quite at its leisure on the scraps of meat that are left by the royal bird, and, 

 within a yard of the terrible beak and claws, splashes about merrily in the eagle's bath. 

 The large animals are also favoured by constant visits from the Sparrows, which hop about 

 the rhinoceros, the elephant, the hippopotamus, or the wild swine with utter indifference, 

 skipping about close to their feet, and picking up grain as if they were the owners of the 

 whole establishment. 



When in the country the Sparrow feeds almost wholly on insects and grain, the 

 former being procured in the spring and early summer, and the latter in autumn and 

 winter. As these birds assemble in large flocks and are always very plentiful, they 

 devour great quantities of grain, and are consequently much persecuted by the farmer, 

 and their numbers thinned by guns, traps, nets, and all kinds of devices. Yet their 

 services in insect-killing are so great as to render them most useful birds to the 

 agriculturist. A single pair of these birds have been watched during a whole day, and 

 were seen to convey to their young no less than forty grubs per hour, making an 

 average exceeding three thousand in the course of the week. In every case where the 

 Sparrows have been extirpated, there has been a proportional decrease in the crops from 

 the ravages of insects. At Maine, for example, the total destruction of the Sparrows was 

 ordered by Government, and the consequence was that in the succeeding year even the 

 green trees were killed by caterpillars, and a similar occurrence took place near Auxerre. 



Moreover, even in the autumn the Sparrow does not confine itself to grain, but feeds 

 on various seeds, such as the dandelion, the sow-thistle, and the groundsel, all of which 

 plants are placed by the agriculturist in the category of weeds. It has also been observed 

 to chase and kill the common wliite butterfly, whose caterpillars make such terrible 

 destruction among the cabbage and other garden plants. While feeding, the Sparrows 

 like to be in company, so that they may be seen in bands of variable numbers, all 

 fluttering, and chirping, and pecking, and scolding, and occasionally fighting with 

 amusing pertness. So closely do they congregate, that when I was a boy I used often to 

 shoot the Sparrows with sixpenny toy cannons, by pushing their muzzles through holes 

 bored in the stable-door, pointing them at a little heap of oats thrown there for the 

 occasion, and firing them as soon as a flock of Sparrows had descended to feed. 



The Sparrow is not one of the earliest risers among the feathered tribes, but it is quite 

 as wakeful as any of them, beginning to chatter almost with the dawn, and keeping up an 

 animated conversation for nearly an hour before it leaves its roost. The same conduct is 

 observable at night, the birds congregating together before roosting, settling on the tops of 

 houses or in trees, and chattering in a very quarrelsome and noisy fashion before they 



