383 
1882 .] Our Winter Birth. 
to adopt and feed the young bluebirds. 
Wliat could the parents do ? They could 
not stay and watch the sparrows con¬ 
tinuously, for the lusty young were 
clamorous for food. So these wise birds 
called together the elder brood, — elder 
brothers and sisters, whom I had not 
seen for weeks, — who were by this time 
as large as the parents, but readily dis¬ 
tinguished from them by their curiously 
mottled breasts, which they wear the 
first summer. The ^larents instructed 
these young ones to keep guard over 
the house while they were away in 
search of food, which they did for sev¬ 
eral days. The house was scarcely left 
a moment. One or more of the family 
were almost constantly present, and 
would dart at the sparrows whenever 
they made an attempt to come near, un¬ 
til the young left the box; and now, at 
this present writing,— October, — this 
happy family are united; both broods, 
with the parents, eating poke-berries 
from a large bush which I have allowed 
to remain expressly for them. 
When the ground is covered with 
o 
snow, the various species of our native 
sparrows, so full of life and jollity, will 
doubly repay any lover of birds for the 
care bestowed upon them. 
Last winter I kept a space of ground 
beneatli my study window free from 
snow, where I scattered coarse Indian 
meal and millet seed, and this ground 
soon became a mimic stage for these 
bright actors. The names of the most 
noted were Junco hyemalis, Zonotricnia 
albicoIUs, Spizella monticola, and Melo- 
spiza melodia. The names of these act¬ 
ors are known throughout the civilized 
world. All nations recognize the fam¬ 
ily name, and often the specific name 
gives a clew to the character ; as hye¬ 
malis, our winter or snow bird ; montico- 
la, a dweller in the mountains, where 
this species spends its summers and rears 
its young ; melodia, the sweet songster, 
or song sparrow. 
Junco hyemalis is excellent in dra¬ 
matic performance. Two of these act¬ 
ors meet face to face on the stage, in 
their dark glossy coats, and each tries 
to make the other quail before his fixed 
gaze. Nearer and nearer they come, 
constantly chattering and bowing, until 
within a few inches of each other, when 
they elevate their heads and bodies to 
a perfectly upright position, and chat¬ 
ter vehemently with wide open mouths. 
Sometimes one of the actors leaves the 
stage at this juncture, and the other re¬ 
mains ; but generally they both withdraw 
and have a trial of strength in the air. 
And now Zonotrichia albicollis comes 
forward in another act. lie is the most 
gorgeously attired and the largest actor 
in the drama. The crown of his head is 
black, bordered with white, and his full 
muffled throat is pure white, sharply 
contrasting with the dark ash of his 
breast. The back of his coat is striped 
with black, chestnut, and fulvous white. 
He excels Junco in tragi-comic perform¬ 
ance. He opens the act with a pro¬ 
longed musical note, and flattens himself 
in front of a brother actor, and spreads 
his tail fan-shaped. Faster and faster 
come the notes from the two actors, un¬ 
til they are so blended that we can 
scarcely distinguish one from the other. 
The birds approach each other squat¬ 
ted to the ground. Their feet have dis¬ 
appeared. When the climax is reached, 
like Junco, they Lave the stage in a 
twinkling. 
Usually the actors are of the same 
species, but occasionally Junco and Zo¬ 
notrichia enliven the drama, — each act¬ 
ing his part with his own individual 
characteristics. Junco chatters and bows 
to Zonotrichia, who cowers apparently 
at his feet, meanwhile entertaining his 
audience with his long musical notes. 
And now, while Junco is straightened 
to his utmost height, hurling his rapid 
invectives, Zonotrichia leaps up like a 
flash, and strikes him in the breast, with 
sulficient force to hurl him across the 
stage. 
