Noisy, quarrelsome, and vicious, will perhaps sum up the character of this species. Cunning, crafty, hardy, and omnivorous, he is always literally in clover, and under such circumstances is it to be wondered at that his numbers have increased so as to be beyond all limits? Wherever man settles, there, sooner or later, will he make his appearance, sitting on the roof or in the shrubbery, and uttering, especially in the mornings, his monotonous and impertinent chirp. In spring he pulls up the crocuses, later he turns his attention to young and succulent plants just forcing their way above the ground, or if a new-sown lawn be the object of one’s solicitude he will make it his business to see that the hoped-for grass-plot remains a barren tableland. As summer comes on, the drain-pipes are blocked by his untidy nest—a mere heap of straw and hay warmly lined with feathers. If a tree or the ivy against the house be chosen for a site, the nest is better made, and is in fact a substantial dome-built structure with the entrance at the side, but its position is readily betrayed by long untidy bits of straw left trailing outside. The eggs are five or six in number and bluish white spotted and blotched with ash brown. By the end of summer he will have reared two broods of five or six youngsters each, and for a time our gardens are allowed a brief respite, while old and young gather in immense flocks in the harvest-fields, and then following the grain they spend some weeks round the freshly-made stacks in the farm-yard. As winter comes on they return once more to towns and gardens, where, by assuming a cold and starved appearance, they beg and frequently receive our charity, till the blooming of the spring flowers once more enables them to start their round of theft and damage. So much for their relations towards man, and it is to be feared that their relations towards other birds have also no redeeming point, for they are so quarrelsome that none of the more delicate and beautiful of our birds will live near them, and the House-Martin clinging to his home with pathetic persistence is driven away again and again by this impudent marauder.

Is there, however, not one good word to be said for him? He is at least by no means bad-looking—the chestnut of his back, his slate-blue head, black and white cheeks, and black throat all tend to add a touch of life and beauty to our gardens which they would otherwise lack; and then in summer he destroys countless noxious insects while feeding his brood, and in towns how companionable he is, hopping about our window-sills or on the roadway, evading the passing traffic with a knowledge born of long practice—surely these at least are compensations that entitle him to some regard.

These arguments, however, all fail. Remove the Sparrow and his place will soon be taken by other birds more beautiful, who will destroy insects, not merely when they have their broods, but throughout the year, and they will soon populate our towns and gardens to as great an extent as the present pest. Remove him? Yes! but how? There’s the rub. Man in the face of the Sparrow is, at present, powerless. True, the bitter war he deserves is not waged on him in this country, but abroad, in Australia and America, relentless persecution is carried on, and though his numbers may be kept in check he is still able to yearly inflict a loss and damage that can only be measured in millions of pounds.

At the same time man is largely to blame for this increase. By careful farming, woods and thickets which should shelter many other species of birds are cut down or reduced, and thereby a similar reduction of their inhabitants is created; grain, the Sparrow’s favourite food, is cultivated in enormous quantities, and birds of prey who might tend to keep the Sparrow within reasonable limits are ruthlessly destroyed. Under these circumstances, then, is it to be wondered at that the Sparrow, having a large number of his competitors for food reduced, his enemies swept away, and unlimited food supplied, should increase beyond all reasonable bounds, especially if added to this we remember that he is exceedingly crafty and cunning, soon recognising and avoiding traps and becoming very difficult to approach in places where he is frequently shot at. He is at the same time adaptable and able to attach himself to the dwellings of man, who supplies him (albeit involuntarily) with a plethora of food; under such conditions his increase is only the result of one of Nature’s first laws, the “survival of the fittest.”

This species is too well known to need a description. The female lacks the black on the throat and the grey and chestnut on the crown, and her colours generally are much duller. The young approach the female in general coloration, but young males often show traces of black on the throat. Length 6 in.; wing 3 in.