A YEAR IN THE FIELDS 



World bird we have. When I take down 

 my gun to shoot them I shall probably re- 

 member that the Psalmist said, " I watch, 

 and am as a sparrow alone upon the house- 

 top," and maybe the recollection will cause 

 me to stay my hand. The sparrows have 

 the Old World hardiness and prolificness ; 

 they are wise and tenacious of life, and we 

 shall find it by and by no small matter to 

 keep them in check. Our native birds are 

 much different, less prolific, less shrewd, 

 less aggressive and persistent, less quick- 

 witted and able to read the note of danger 

 or hostility, — in short, less sophisticated. 

 Most of our birds are yet essentially wild, 

 that is, little changed by civilization. In 

 winter, especially, they sweep by me and 

 around me in flocks, — the Canada sparrow, 

 the snow bunting, the shore lark, the pine 

 grosbeak, the redpoll, the cedar-bird, — feed- 

 ing upon frozen apples in the orchard, upon 

 cedar-berries, upon maple-buds, and the 

 berries of the mountain-ash, and the celtis, 

 and upon the seeds of the weeds that rise 

 above the snow in the field, or upon the hay- 

 seed dropped where the cattle have been fod- 

 dered in the barnyard or about the distant 

 stack ; but yet taking no heed of man, in no 



