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| Searching for Sparrows |
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Page 6 of 6 Arguably, the most attractive feature of the male is the black bib. It is far less distinguishable early in the year, but as time goes on it gets blacker and bolder. How is this? Well, it happens gradually as the pale feather edging gets worn to reveal black beneath; so he gets more handsome by the day. I went out looking for sparrows while writing this article in January. We know that they are declining, but the general lack of sparrows and the small size of the flocks even in the village was disturbing. Some colonies had gone with house renovation, but neither did I see many feeding in gardens or in the surrounding countryside. There was a flock of 19 in a roadside hedge by a farm, feeding on the shrivelled remains of last year’s blackberries. The bibs on the males were barely visible, but you could see through binoculars how the pale edges overlay the black when the wind ruffled their feathers. Also, the stout, seed-eating bill was horn coloured, not black in the males, as it is later in the breeding season. Neither sex looked unattractive, as the sun picked out the bright chestnut and ochre on their bodies. If they moved, they moved quickly in a flurry and a whirr of wings. There was often no apparent reason when they suddenly dashed from one hedge to another or flew down on to the ground. One took the initiative and off they went. Reading WH Hudson’s description (1908) is a testimony of how many there once were. He saw thousands sitting in blackthorn near St Just-in-Penwith with flocks of 50-100 still arriving. They were going to roost in an abandoned mine. In London, a flock of 19,000 birds was once counted. At that time they were so numerous then that they were considered pests and were persecuted in all kinds of horrible ways. We are responsible for the wide distribution of House Sparrows; they spread with agriculture, utilizing our lines of communication - railways and roads. Then we introduced them to foreign places, heedless of their effect on the native species. They learnt to live with us, but now the tide is turning against them because of intensive farming and modern buildings. When friends say they come to feed in their gardens, I tell them they are lucky to have them. Love your sparrows, I say, they need you. | ||||||||