THE SPARROW TRIBE AND ITS KIN 109 



the hills and overgrown old fields, and towhees, meadow- 

 larks and brown thrashers keep him company. He is not 

 fond of human society and usually flies away with waver- 

 ing, uncertain flight from bush to bush rather than submit 

 to a close scrutiny of his bright chestnut-brown back and 

 crown, flesh-colored bill, gray eyebrow, grayish throat, 

 buffy breast and light feet. Because his tail ^p a trifle 

 longer than the chippy's he is slighty larger than the smal- 

 lest of our sparrows. Listen for him some evening after 

 sunset when his simple vesper hymn, clear, plaintive, 

 sweet, rings from the bush where he perches especially for 

 the performance. Scarcely any two field sparrows sing 

 precisely alike. Most of them, however, begin with three 

 clear, smooth, leisurely whistles — cher-wee, cher-wee, cker- 

 wee — then hurry through the other notes — cheo, cheo-dee- 

 dee-eee, e, e — which run rapidly into a trill before they die 

 away. Others reverse the time and diminish the measures 

 toward the close. However sung, the song, which makes 

 the uplands tuneful all day and every day from April to 

 August, does not vary its quahty, which is as fine as the 

 vesper sparrow's. 



Hatched in a bush, and almost never seen apart from 

 one, this humble little bird might well be called the bush 

 sparrow. 



The Chipping Sparrow 



Who does not know this humblest, most unassuming, 

 and tamest little neighbor that comes hopping to our very 

 doors wearing a reddish crown, bordered by black, a wide 

 gray eyebrow, and grayish underparts for its distin- 

 guishing marks? This mite of a bird with one talent 

 that it so persistently uses all the day and every day 



