THE SONG-SPARROW.
The song-sparrow sang a long sweet song. Then he stopped and lookedaround. Butterflies and bees and other insects were on the wingeverywhere, floating, darting and dancing in the sunshine; but the birddid not seek to disturb any of them, he had had a good breakfast ofberries, and he was happy.
He might well be happy, not only for delicious food and glorioussunshine and power to sing a lovely song, but for the fact that hishome was near. And in that home were his young ones--his tinychildren,--and his little wife.
So the song-sparrow raised his rufous head, and opening his mouth, andvibrating his throat, he sang again as if in thankfulness and praise.
"Listen, Richard," said his little mate suddenly, and of course in herown tongue, "listen, listen." She called him "Richard," but if he werein a cage people would call him "Dickie."
Richard stopped in the middle of his song, and bending down his head,while turning his right eye toward a pretty cottage close by, helistened attentively and with great delight.
"Jenny," remarked he to his tiny wife, when the cottage song was done,"Master George is at the open window, the beautiful day has stirred hisheart, and he has sung happily and well."
"Yes," said Jenny, "this must be Saturday, for his tone is unusuallybright and happy."
"It is always happy," answered Richard.
"True," said Jenny, "but it is happier to-day."
"Well, be it so, we won't differ, dear."
"That is right, dear husband, we must show a good example to ourchildren;" and the mother-sparrow nestled her little ones lovingly.
"There is only one thing that makes me anxious in this glad world,"remarked Richard as he looked down from the bush to the comfortablenest in the grass.
"What is it husband?"
"I am afraid of that snake I saw gliding outside and round the fenceyesterday."
"Ah, yes," replied the little mother, "it makes my flesh creep to thinkof it; but I hope it won't venture into the garden."
"I trust not," said Richard; "but if I were a man, and if I had a gun,I should make short work of it."
"Aren't guns wonderful things, husband? How they blow out fire andsmoke, and what a deafening noise they make!"
"They are indeed wonderful, Jenny; but aren't they fearful? Do youremember how the poor hare fell, although it was far away from the gunand running like a railway train?"
"I do, Richard; it tumbled over just as the fire burst out, and therewas such a big blood spot on its side. Oh, guns are dreadful things."
"They are, Jenny, and we ought to be thankful that nobody around thisgarden uses them," said Richard, with a look of relief.
"Isn't Master George a fine boy?" remarked Jenny.
"He is; he wouldn't hurt a fly--that is, pull off its legs and then itshead and torment it, as wicked youngsters do."
"I love to see him in the garden," said Jenny; "somehow I feel saferwhen he is near. He is so big compared with you, Richard, and so kind.He comes gently towards our nest, and looks down on me with hisinteresting, dark grey eyes; then he gets down on his knees, andstretching out his forefinger he lightly strokes my head and wings,saying as he does so--'Don't be frightened, birdie, I won't hurt you.'I was scared at first, and jumped out and flew away; but I don't dothat now."
"Yes, we know our friends," chimed in Richard, "and Master George isone of them."
The two birds went on speaking to each other this way in praise of thekindly boy, and then the mother-bird said--
"Sing me another song, Richard; I never tire of hearing your voice.Sing out, dear, with all your might, and make every one happy far andnear."
Richard was about to open his beak and fill the air with melody, whenhis quick eye detected something among the grass. He uttered a sharpnote of warning, and the mother sparrow shrank close into the nest.
"The snake is coming," shouted Richard. But Jenny did not move, sheonly kept flat and shuddered.
"Come from the nest, and we will mislead the reptile," cried Richard.
Then both birds flew around and at and over the snake, doing theirutmost to bewilder it; but it was no use--the cunning creature glidedon--it knew its helpless prey was near; and the poor parents werefrantic, as it raised its head and looked around.
* * * * *
"Mother," said George, as he looked into the garden through the openwindow, "what can be wrong with our song-sparrows?"
His mother came forward, and seeing the birds fluttering aboutexcitedly, she said--
"Run, George, there is a cat or some other enemy at the nest."
Without a moment's delay the lad seized a cane, and running along thegarden-walk and jumping over flower-beds and bushes, he came to thescene of the disturbance. He knew well where the nest was, and lookingto that spot he was horrified to see the snake bending over it witharched neck and head, preparing to devour the helpless youngsong-sparrows. Springing fearlessly forward like a hound, George smotethe snake on the head, and that one blow was enough. But grasping itstail he jerked it back from the nest, and stamped upon its head, tomake sure that the life was gone. Then lifting it across his cane hewent to the fence, and flung it over in indignant disgust.
Oh, how the parent song-sparrows rejoiced. The mother flew to the nestto examine and fondle her young, while the father-bird went up on thetwig of a white rose-bush and sang a rapturous song of deliverance.
"Ever since then the male sparrow has shown his gratitude to George ina truly wonderful manner. When he goes into the garden the sparrowwill fly to him, sometimes alighting on his head, at other times on hisshoulder, all the while pouring out a tumultuous song of praise andgratitude."
* * * * *
"How is it, Richard," said Jenny one day, "that nearly all these greatcreatures called mankind look upon us as if we had very littleunderstanding in our head? Is it because we are so little and wearfeathers?"
"Oh, no, it is because our language is different. In fact, they reallythink we do not speak at all, and it seems to them that where there isno speech there is little or no thought."
"What language does Master George speak, Richard?"
"English, dear, a beautiful language when well spoken and especiallywhen well sung."
"And what language do we speak, Richard?"
Sloping his head a little to the side, Richard thought for a moment andthen replied with a funny twinkle in his eye--
"Our language is Song-Sparrowish."
"Dear me," said Jenny, "it must be greater than English, when it needssuch a big word. But Master George understands it, doesn't he?"
"He does indeed, he does, because he is well acquainted with us. Ioverheard him say the other day that he understood our ways well, andthat our musical language and gratitude were to him a great delight."
"Here he comes," exclaimed Jenny. "See, he opens the garden-gate. Ido love to see his winsome, cheerful face."
"And he is both brave and kind," answered Richard, clearing his throatand preparing to deliver an eloquent speech in Song-Sparrowish.
"Now raise your song of gratitude, dear, and sing your very best."
* * * * *
The above little story is founded on a fact recorded in the *_CourierJournal_.
*A SONG-SPARROW'S GRATITUDE.
It is a rare occurrence for animals in a wild state to select man for acompanion and friend, yet well-authenticated instances where this hasbeen done are a matter of record. The following incident is vouchedfor by a young lady who is a close and accurate observer:
"Last week my brother, a lad of 12, killed a snake which was just inthe act of robbing a song-sparrow's nest. Ever since then the malesparrow has shown his gratitude to George in a truly wonderful manner.When he goes into the garden the sparrow will fly to him, sometimesalighting on his head, at other times on his shoulder, all the whilepouring out a tumultuous song of praise and gratitude. It willaccompany him about the
garden, never leaving him until he reaches thegarden gate. George, as you know, is a quiet boy who loves animals,and this may account in a degree for the sparrow's extraordinaryactions."--_Courier Journal_.
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