306 NOTES ON NEW ENGLAND BIRDS 



unseen songster usually unheard like the cricket, it is so 

 common, — like the poet's song, unheard by most men, 

 whose ears are stopped with business, though perchance 

 it sang on the fence before the farmer's house this morn- 

 ing for an hour. There are little strains of poetry in our 

 animals. 



March 18, 1852. This snow has not driven back the 

 birds. I hear the song sparrow's simple strain, most 

 genuine herald of the spring, and see flocks of chubby 

 northern birds with thehabitof snowbirds, passing north. 



April 1, 1852. As I come over the Turnpike, the 

 song sparrow's jingle comes up from every part of the 

 meadow, as native as the tinkling rills or the blossoms 

 of the spirea, the meadow-sweet, soon to spring. Its 

 cheep is like the sound of opening buds. The sparrow is 

 continually singing on the alders along the brook-side, 

 while the sun is continually setting. 



April 1, 1853. The three spots on breast of the song 

 sparrow seem to mark a difference of sex. 1 At least, the 

 three-spotted is the one I oftenest hear sing of late. The 

 accompanying one is lighter beneath and one-spotted. 

 One of the former by J. P. Brown's meadow-side, select- 

 ing the top of a bush, after lurking and feeding under 

 the alders, sang olit olit olit\ (faster) chip chip chip 

 che char\ (fast) che wiss wiss wiss. The last bar was 

 much varied, and sometimes one olit omitted in the first. 

 This, I have no doubt, is my bird of March 18th. An- 

 other three-spotted sang vit chit chit char\ weeter char | 

 tee chu. 



1 [No sexual difference is recognized in the song sparrow's mark- 

 ings.] 



