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THE YELLOW-WINGED SPARROW. 



Fringilla passerina, Wils. 



PLATE CXXX. Male. 



This is another of those remarkable species which pass unobserved 

 from the Mexican dominions and some of the West India Islands, to 

 the middle portions of our Atlantic States. Not one of the species have 

 I ever met with in Louisiana, the Floridas, any of the other Southern 

 States, or those west of the Alleghany range ; while from Maryland to 

 Maine it is found in considerable numbers, and is not uncommon in Penn- 

 sylvania, New Jersey, New York, and Connecticut. In aU the States it 

 prefers the neighbourhood of the coast and a light sandy soil. It arrives 

 in the latter districts about the 10th of May, and throws itself into the 

 open newly-ploughed fields, and those covered with the valuable red 

 clover. It is never found in the woodlands. Its food consists of such 

 insects and larvae as are found on the ground, together with the seeds of 

 grasses and other plants. 



Its flight is low, short, and performed by a kind of constant tremor of 

 the wings, resembling that of a young bird. It alights on the tops of low 

 bushes, fence-rails, and tall grasses, to sing its unmusical ditty, composed 

 of a few notes weakly enunciated at intervals, but sufficing to manifest its 

 attachment to its mate. Almost unregarded, it raises two broods in the 

 season, perhaps three when it has chosen the warmer sandy soils in the 

 vicinity of the sea, where it is evidently more abundant than in the inte- 

 rior of the country. 



The nest of the Yellow-winged Sparrow is as simple as its owner is 

 innocent and gentle. It is placed on the ground, and is formed of light 

 dry grasses, with a scanty lining of withered fibrous roots and horse hair. 

 The female deposits her first egg about the 20th of May. The eggs are 

 four or five, of a dingy white, sprinkled with brown spots. The young 

 follow their parents on the ground for a short time, after which they se- 

 parate and search for food singly. This species, indeed, never congre- 

 gates, as almost all others of its tribe do, before they depart from us, but 

 the individuals seem to move off in a sulky mood, and in so concealed a 

 "way, that their winter quarters are yet unknown. 



