About a Sparrow 



By H. S. Keller 



There have been tales told about this curious little rowdy among birds. He 

 was a nuisance ; he drove our song and grub-eating birds away ; he also littered 

 the cornices of buildings and made of himself a pest in general. There have 

 been other tales told about the cute chap who perches upon a wire near the window 

 and rocks his clever head toward you when you tap against the pane; and still 

 another story is told concerning the lynching of one by a flock of the brisk chaps. 

 Some say they took a bit of twine, fastened it to a wire, secured the victim, and 

 induced him to put his head through a loop; then drew the twine and scattered, 

 leaving a lot of wise men to gaze upon the wonderful spectacle, which the news- 

 papers took up and printed. I have watched birds for years and I never saw an 

 incident of the sort — the lynching of a sparrow by his fellow sparrows ! A sparrow 

 has been caught in the loop of a bit of twine fastened to a wire or a cornice ; but 

 no sparrow ever deliberately put the twine up and lynched one of his rowdy brood. 

 He wouldn't do it simply because he hasn't got bird instinct enough to follow out 

 such a tragedy. I will tell you a little incident concerning a sparrow which I 

 know to be true. It didn't find a place in any newspaper, either, simply because 

 I never gave it much thought until now, hence never mentioned it before. 



I had noticed upon arising from several mornings in the early spring a halt 

 dozen or so of sparrows congregated in a sunny spot of the roof below. At first 

 I paid no attention to it, for the sparrow is apt to go where he pleases, man's 

 wishes to the contrary notwithstanding. But the little chaps were there every 

 morning, and in the same sunny spot. I was curious to know why they came 

 there, and I went down stairs one morning to watch them from a more close point 

 of observation. I got there before they came. I stood back of a closed blind, 

 peeped through the slats and waited. When the sun-rays fell upon the spot close 

 to the window the little fellows began to come — each with a morsel of food. They 

 twittered and hopped about as if they were enjoying the morning fancy. Then 

 they scattered and took wings to chimneys, cornices and wires. I opened the 

 blinds and looked out. I saw one lone, little sparrow^ feeding. I bent over the 

 sill. He did not fly away. I reached out and took him in. He fluttered and 

 struggled. His eyes were covered with a film. He was blind. 



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