EARLY SPRING IN MASSACHUSETTS. 193 
enough to the bone. No man is rich enough to 
keep a poet in his pay. 
March 20, 1859. P. M. I see under the east 
side of the house, amid the evergreens, where 
they are sheltered from the cold northwest 
wind, a company of sparrows, chiefly Fringilla 
hiemalis, two or three tree-sparrows, and one 
song-sparrow, quietly feeding together. I watch 
them through a window within six or eight 
feet. They evidently love to be sheltered from 
the wind, and at least are not averse to each 
other’s society. One perches on a bush to sing, 
while others are feeding on the ground ; but he 
is very restless on his perch, hopping about and 
stooping, as if dodging those that fly over. He 
must perch on some bit of stubble or some twig 
to sing. The tree-sparrows sing a little. They 
are evidently picking up the seeds of weeds 
which lie on the surface of the ground, invisible 
to our eyes. They suffer their wings to hang 
rather loose. The Fringilla hiemalis is the 
largest of the three. It has a remarkably dis¬ 
tinct light-colored bill, and when it stretches 
shows very distinct clear white lateral tail 
feathers. This stretching seems to be conta¬ 
gious among them, like yawning with us. The 
tree-sparrows are much brighter brown and 
white than* the song-sparrow. The latter alone 
scratches once or twice, and is more inclined 
13 
