Chipping Sparrow 
117 
we sat within a few feet of the tree, both birds 
would carry into it fine twigs and grasses for 
the foundation of the nest and, later, long horse 
hairs which they coiled around and around to 
form a lining. Where did they get so many 
hairs? A few might have been switched out 
of the horses’ tails in the stable yard or dropped 
on the road, but what amazingly bright eyes 
the birds must have to find them, and how 
curious that chippies alone, of all the feathered 
tribe, should always insist upon using them to 
line their cradles! 
From the back of a settle, the round of a 
rocking chair, or the gnomon of the sun-dial 
near the verandah, the little chippy would trill 
his wiry tremulo, like the locust’s hot weather 
warning, while his mate brooded over five tiny 
greenish-blue eggs in the boxwood tree. Be- 
fore even the robin was awake, earlier than 
dawn, he would start the morning chorus with 
the simple little trill that answers for a song to 
express every emotion throughout the long day. 
Both he and his mate use a chip call note in 
talking to each other. 
When she was tired brooding, of which she 
did far more than her share, he would relieve 
her while she went in search of food. V ery often 
he would carry to the nest a cabbage worm for 
her or some other refreshing delicacy. The 
screen door might bang beside her while she sat 
