Birds & Nature Magazine 



23 



The Song Sparrow 



By ELIZABETH H. WILKINS 



WHILE men are speculating on 

 the truth of the statement, that 

 "wealth lessens, rather than 

 increases, human happiness," 

 the ecstatic notes of the song sparrow are 

 offering ample proof that, in the bird-world 

 at least, happiness is not dependent upon 

 fine feathers or luxurious quarters. Dur- 

 ing the cheerless winter days, although 

 his dusky little form is indistinct among the 

 dead leaves of the frozen thicket, this brave 

 bird sends a thrill of joy through every 

 heart, as his song, clear and rapturous, rises 

 above the hoarse moan of the wintry wind, 

 and mingles with the swirling snowflakes. 



It is not unusual to find a song sparrow 

 now and then in mid-winter, as far north 

 as Massachusetts. But this season no 

 deep snow^s have cut oflf his food supply, 

 consequently he and his fellows have so- 

 journed with contentment, the entire win- 

 ter, in the New England and Middle 

 States. His stout bill has enabled him to 

 find many a tasty morsel beneath the hard, 

 dry skin of poke berry or thorn apple; and 

 the seeds of golden-rod, asters, and Joe- 

 Pye weed have afforded him sumptuous 

 fare. 



Unless one has been attracted by his 

 song or the "metallic chip," with which 

 he is likel}^ to assail his observers, he might 

 easily be taken for any one of his numerous 

 relatives. However, plain as is his dress, 

 it has several characteristics peculiar to him. 

 His brown coat is streaked with unobtru- 

 sive grays and black; and through the dark 

 patch on his head runs a light line, giving 

 him the appearance of having his hair part- 

 ed in the middle. The brown dabs on his 

 grayish-w^hite breast are as distinct as if put 

 on wnth a paint brush, except in the center 

 where they run together forming a dark 

 blotch. This is well described by the little 

 boy, who, after coming to grief at an after- 

 noon tea party, espied a song sparrow and 

 exclaimed, "See, mother, he too has spilled 

 his cup of chocolate on his clean, white 

 blouse." 



In his simplicity of dress lies the safety 

 of this darling of the lowlands. He is dis- 

 tinctly a ground bird. The nest is always 

 built on or near the ground, and he never 

 indulges in lofty flight. His favorite 

 haunts are among the alders by damp 

 meadows and water courses. He is the ar- 

 dent lover of Rhodora, the jovial comrade 

 of Arethusa and Iris. It is no wonder 

 then, since his coat so well harmonizes with 

 the grasses and sedges in which he lives, 

 that he is no easy prey for his enemies. 



I have often watched a brooding mother, 

 at a distance of not more than six or eight 

 feet, but, with the exception of her little 

 beadlike eye, could not distinguish her out- 

 line from the rootlets, grasses, and strips 

 of bark of which her humble nest w^as 

 made. 



The eggs, too, are well adapted to their 

 surroundings. The bluish-white ground 

 is so covered with brown specks and patches, 

 that the eggs attract no more attention than 

 so many pebbles. 



But it is his never-failing exuberance of 

 good spirits that has made the song sparrow 

 the favorite of the bird-lover. It is said 

 that he sings throughout every month of 

 the year, regardless of sunshine or shadow. 

 His song may have its variations, but the 

 quality and general theme are ever the 

 same. It consists of but two measures. 

 The first is a sweet, strong note repeated 

 two or three times with the regularity of a 

 metronome; in the second measure, the 

 voice takes a note a third below, repeating 

 it five or six times with the same regular- 

 ity, but with twice the rapidity. These 

 last six or seven notes are often varied, but 

 they are always uttered so quickly, that 

 the song seems to terminate in a gurgle of 

 merriment. It is a simple refrain, but it 

 is the expression of a heart whose joyous- 

 ness is infectious. The very air seems 

 charged with his own cheerfulness, as, 

 perched on a fence post or convenient 

 shrub, he rises on his toes and elevates his 

 topknot as if stretching upward to grasp 



