386 LABRADOR 
the familiar dooryard bird of the bleak Labrador coast. 
He sings from the roof of the turf-covered tilt, or from the 
cross-stays of the fishing schooner in the narrow tickle. 
He contentedly picks up crumbs and insects about the 
houses and makes his nest in the thickets of spruces or 
firs that are unable to struggle more than two or three 
feet above the earth. His call note is characteristic and 
easily recognized, a metallic chink. He also has a sharp, 
chipping alarm note. His song is pleasing, although it has 
not the familiar charm of his cousin, the Peabody bird, or 
the power and brilliancy of that of the fox sparrow. It 
sounds something like more wet-wetter-wet-chezee. There is 
a long and somewhat mournful stress laid on the first note, 
and a buzz not easily expressed in words comes near the end. 
Another Hudsonian bird that frequents the stunted 
trees and bushes on the borders of the Arctic Zone is the 
tree sparrow. The chestnut crown and large black spot 
on the otherwise spotless breast make it easily recognized. 
His song is simple and easily memorized, seet-seet, — sit- 
iter — sweet-sweet. 
Two other sparrows are common and characteristic of 
this zone. The Lincoln’s sparrow, discovered by Audubon 
in Labrador and named by him after his young friend Tom 
Lincoln, resembles closely the song sparrow of more south- 
ern regions. Its disposition, however, is very different, for 
it is a most retiring bird, skulking out of sight in the bushes 
if it but suspects that it is an object of interest. Instead 
of mounting to a conspicuous post to sing like its cousin, 
the song sparrow, it is apt to select the interior of a fir bush 
for this performance, and the listener often looks in vain 
for the songster. The song is varied, but partakes at times 
