Читать книгу: «Birds and Nature, Vol. 10 No. 3 [October 1901]», страница 3

THE TREE SPARROW
(Spizella monticola.)

“I like to see them feasting on the seed stalks above the crust, and hear their chorus of merry tinkling notes, like sparkling frost crystals turned to music.”

– Chapman.

One who loves birds cannot fail to be attracted by the sparrows and especially by the Tree Sparrow, whose pert form is the subject of our picture. This little bird comes to us in the Eastern United States in September or October and remains throughout the winter. It is at this time common or even abundant as far to the westward as the great plains, and is rare farther west. It is a winter bird and breeds in the colder latitudes north of the United States, where it builds its home of grasses, shreds of bark and small roots interlaced with hair, not high up in trees, as its name might indicate, but upon or near the ground.

Gentle and of a retiring disposition, they prefer the cultivated fields, the meadows, the woods with their borders of shrubs or the trees of the orchard. Such is their confidence, however, that they will even visit the dooryards and prettily pick up the scattered crumbs or grain.

While tramping through a meadow in the early winter and before the snow has disappeared or the frost has hardened and changed the surface of the earth, the tramper may frequently disturb numbers of the sparrows. Flying from the dried grass they will seem to come out of the ground. Speaking of such an incident, Mr. Keyser says: “This unexpected behavior led me to investigate, and I soon found that in many places there were cozy apartments hollowed out under the long thick tufts of grass, with neat entrances at one side like the door of an Eskimo hut. These hollows gave ample evidence of having been occupied by the birds, so there could be no doubt about their being bird bed-rooms.”

These little birds seem almost a part of one’s animal family, and a companion in those regions where the snow covers the ground a part of the year. They chirp and often sing quite gaily in the spring. They may often be seen when the thermometer indicates a temperature below zero and the snow is a foot or more in depth. Seemingly all that is required to satisfy them is a plenty of weeds from which they may gather the seeds. They are driven southerly only by a lack of a suitable food supply. Often they may be found resting under clumps of tall grass or vines on which the snow has gathered, forming a sort of roof over the snug retreat. “Whether rendered careless by the cold or through a natural heedlessness, they are very tame at such times; they sit unconcernedly on the twigs, it may be but a few feet distant, chirping cheerfully, with the plumage all loosened and puffy, making very pretty roly-poly looking objects.”

A very pretty sight, and one that may frequently be seen, is a flock of Tree Sparrows around some tall weed. Some of the birds will be actively gathering seeds from the branches of the weed, while others will stand upon the ground or snow and pick up those seeds that are dropped or shaken off by their relatives above. While thus feeding there seems to be a constant conversation. If we could but translate this sweet-voiced chirping perhaps we should find that they are expressing to each other the pleasure that the repast is giving them.

Their song is sweet and pleasing. They are not constant songsters, but seem to be moved by some unseen spirit, for a flock will suddenly burst out in a melody of song that is entrancing. He who has been favored with such a concert is indeed fortunate. Their whole being seems to be brought into action in the production of this song, which is “somewhat crude and labored in technique, but the tones are very sweet indeed, not soft and low but quite loud and clear. Quite often the song opens with one or two long syllables and ends with a merry little trill having a delightfully human intonation. There is, indeed, something innocent and child-like about the voices of these sparrows.”

The Tree Sparrow is often called the Winter Chippy and is confounded with the chipping sparrow, which it resembles. It is a larger bird and carries a mark of identification by which it may be easily known. There is on the grayish white breast a small black spot. Moreover, the Tree Sparrow arrives in its winter range about the time that the chippy retires to the Gulf States and Mexico.

THE SPARROWS’ BEDTIME

 
“Wee, wee, weet, tweet, tweet, tweet!”
What a clatter, what a chatter
In the village street.
“Chee, chee, cheep, cheep, chee, chee, chee!”
What a rustling, what a hustling
In the maple tree.
 
 
“Twit, twit, flit, flit, get away, quit!”
How they gabble, how they scrabble
As to rest they flit.
“Peep, peep, tweet, tweet, wee, wee, wee!”
How they hurry, how they scurry,
Noisy as can be.
 
 
“Tr’r, tr’r, sh, sh, do be still,
You’re no wood thrush, wish you could hush,
You know you can’t trill.”
“Tr’r, tr’r, r’r, r’r, yip, peep, peep,
You’re another, I’ll tell mother,
I was most asleep.”
 
 
“Tr’r, sh, chee, chee, peep, yip, yip!”
See them swinging, gaily clinging
To the branch’s tip.
“Tr’r, sh, cheep, peep, tee, hee, hee!”
Hear them titter, hear them twitter,
Full of energy.
 

* * * * * *

 
Sudden silence falls,
Not a peep is heard;
To its neighbor calls
Not one little bird,
Silent too the trees
Calm their secret keeping;
Gently sighs the breeze;
Sparrows all are sleeping.
 

– Adene Williams.

THE SPARROW FAMILY

We all know some of the members of the Sparrow family, little gray and brown birds, striped above and lighter underneath. They belong to the Finch family, which is the largest of all the bird families. One-seventh of all the birds belong to this family. Just think how many uncles and cousins and aunts the little sparrows have! They are birds of the ground, not birds of the trees, like the vireos. They only choose high perches when they wish to rest or sing. We see them hunting for food in the grassy meadows, or fresh-plowed field, or in the dusty road. They usually make their nests in low bushes or on the ground and, as a rule, they fly only short distances, and do not skim around just for the fun of it, like the swallows.

There are over forty different kinds of sparrows in our country.

The English sparrows are found all over the world. They stay with us all the year round. We ought to be friendly with them as we have such a good chance to become acquainted. They certainly intend to be friendly with us for they scarcely fly away at our approach. Mother Sparrow is a hard worker, raising four broods every year. Just think how many children and grand-children one sparrow can have! English sparrows are called quarrelsome birds, and I believe it is true that they have driven away many of the pretty bluebirds, but we sometimes think they are quarreling when they are not. Have you ever noticed a crowd of sparrows following one bird? I used to think that they were all quarreling with that one bird; but no, they follow her because they admire and like her. Some people scold a great deal about the harm that the sparrows do to the fruit and grain. But think of the many insects that these birds eat in one year! I believe they do more good than harm, don’t you?

The chipping sparrow often builds its nest in tall trees. This is the only sparrow I know of, which builds its nest up high. This bird is smaller than the English sparrow. It has a reddish-brown back and crown. Did you ever hear its funny little song? It sounds like the buzzing of a locust. It can call, chip! chip! too.

The field sparrow is about the same size as the chipping sparrow and its head and back are of the same color. As can be guessed from its name, it is fond of fields and meadows. The field sparrow sings very sweetly.

Then there is the fox sparrow, which is not only the largest of the sparrows, but the finest singer. It comes about as early as the bluebird. We often hear its sweet song in March. It is called the fox sparrow, not because it is sly like the fox, but on account of its color which is reddish like the fox’s fur.

The grasshopper sparrow is smaller than the English sparrow. It has a cry which sounds like a grasshopper in the grass.

The song sparrow is one of the commonest of our birds, staying with us nearly all the year. The name indicates to us that it has a sweet voice. It begins to sing almost as early as the robin and will sing every hour in the day and seems never to tire of singing. The song sparrow is about the same size as the English sparrow.

Then there are the savanna sparrow and the seaside sparrow which are fond of marshes, near the sea; and the white-crowned. This and the white-throated sparrows are both fine singers and handsome birds. They are larger than the English sparrow. The vesper sparrow has a fine voice, singing late in the afternoon and evening. It is as fond of the meadows as the field sparrow. The two birds are often taken for each other, but if the vesper sparrow is watched when it flies, it will be seen that it has white tail quills which the field sparrow does not possess. Both are about the same size.

The winter chippy or tree sparrow is a winter bird, in the United States appearing in the fall and flying away early in the spring. Its name would indicate that it was fond of trees, but this is not the case, as it is usually seen on the ground and even makes its nest there.

There are many other members of the sparrow family, but this is enough for to-day. I hope that you will watch them and try to become acquainted with all.

Narcisia Lewis.

MR. AND MRS. SPARROW’S BLUNDER

Many people suppose that the instinct of birds and animals is never wrong, but this is a mistake. I have often seen the wild geese fly north over the western prairies only to come squawking back in a few days, to linger with us, if not going farther south, until the sun warmed up the northland and they dared another flight.

Once my brother witnessed a most amusing case of mistaken judgment among birds. He had opened a store in a northern town, and during the month of March was much discouraged by the continued cold weather.

“O! but spring’s here!” exclaimed his partner gleefully one bleak day. “See those sparrows building a nest in our eaves? That’s a sure sign!” From that day on the two young men took great interest in the new home going up under – or rather over – their very eyes. Each new bit of rag or straw woven in was noted, and they even strewed cotton about in handy places for the birds to use as “carpeting in the mansion.”

But the weather did not improve, in spite of the sparrow’s prophecy; instead of that, a sleet set in one night, and morning saw a most wintry-looking earth. When the young men went down to open up the store for business, they heard loud, really angry, chirping coming from the eaves. Mr. and Mrs. Sparrow were discussing something with energy, and when at last a decision was reached they both swooped down upon their almost finished nest and tore it all to pieces. Not one twig or rag or straw was left in place. When the destruction was complete they gave a loud chirp of satisfaction and flew off together, never to return.

They had simply made a mistake in their calendar.

Lee McCrae.

A WINDOW-PANE REVERIE

I stood by my study window after dark. An electric light a few blocks distant, cast shadows of the small limbs of a tree upon the window-pane. Those shadows were in constant motion because of the wind blowing through the trees. Through the dancing shadows I saw the brilliant light against the darkness of the western sky. My breath condensed into moisture on the cold glass, and through that moisture the electric light shone in the center of a brilliantly-colored circle, composed of myriads of pencils of light, radiating from the dazzling central point. As the moisture evaporated the pencils became fewer and coarser, bright lines and fragments of lines, rather than pencils. A few breaths on the glass, more moisture condensed and again the pencils were in myriads. I enjoyed the small but brilliant view in the same spirit in which I enjoy the starry heavens on a grand mountain outlook.

As I looked I thought of many things. I thought of my own mind with its wondrous thinking machinery; I thought of my eyes and of their marvelous mechanism by which the brain received so much thought-producing material; I thought of the burning furnace within my body that sent out heated air laden with the invisible vapor of water; I thought of the laws of heat and cold by which that vapor was instantly condensed and became visible when it came in contact with the cold glass; I thought of the transparent glass and of all the changes it had passed through since it was a mineral in the primeval rocks; I thought of the tree with its naked branches whose fibers were being toughened by constant wrestling with the wind; I thought of the leaves that in a few weeks would cover those twigs and conceal from me the electric light; I thought of the invisible air with its strange elements and properties, and of the laws of meteorology that produced the wind; I thought of the electric wire and of the distant copper mines from which it came; I thought of the mysterious force that we call electricity, of the coal, the engine, the machinery, that produce it, and of the light that it produces; I thought of the mysterious thing that we call light and of the laws of light that gave me those penciled rays; I thought of the things that were made for “glory and for beauty” as well as for practical utility; and I thought of God.

And so, according to such knowledge as I had of psychology, of physiology, of physics, of meteorology, of botany, of mineralogy, of chemistry, of optics, of electricity, of esthetics, and of natural theology, were my thoughts manifold, rich, suggestive, correlated, inspiring, spiritual even, in their last analysis.

That which to many would be a thing of no interest, a commonplace sight not worth a second glance, was to me full of beauty, tinged with glory, spiritually helpful, and an occasion for praising and worshiping God.

Roselle Theodore Cross.