IF, out of the whole feathered creation, one bird had to be selected as the national emblem, it is questionable whether, upon the whole, any could be found more suited to the position than the sparrow. He is a bold, daring bird; where he settles he speedily makes himself master of the position, and elbows out all rivals. He can adapt himself to all climates; he is prolific, and multiplies with appalling rapidity. He can make himself at home equally in town or country, and manages to thrive where other birds would die. He has, of course, some characteristics which Englishmen would perhaps repudiate, but it must be owned that the natives of every other country are almost unanimous in crediting us with their possession. He is quarrelsome, combative, self-sufficient, given to bullying the weak, and has an excellent opinion of himself. If a foreigner were asked to describe our national characteristics, some of these qualities would certainly be included in the list; and it is a question if any bird possesses so large a share of our national characteristics as does the sparrow. He is distinguished for his partiality to the neighbourhood of human abodes. The swallow may build as frequently against houses, but he only uses them as a convenience, and gathers his food or takes his pleasure entirely regardless of the inhabitants of the house against which he builds. The sparrow, on the contrary, would just as lief place his nest near a house as on it. He will build in a disused chimney, or a gutter, or rain-pipe; but if none of these places suit his fancy, he will establish his nest in the ivy covered wall near at hand, or in a clump of bushes, and, having so built, he proceeds to get at once benefit and amusement from his human neighbours. He regards their fruit trees and rows of peas as planted for his special benefit. He sits on the edge of the roof and observes man as he walks in his garden with evident interest and amusement, and discusses his peculiarities loudly and volubly with a friend on an adjoining roof. He is quite fearless of man’s presence, and will pursue his search for insects on the lawn within a few feet of him; and he relies confidently upon receiving offerings of food in hard, frosty weather in return for his friendship. He alone, of birds, makes himself thoroughly at home in the crowded streets, perfectly fearless of passing vehicles. He is gregarious by habit, and it is to be remarked that there is nothing selfish about him. Throw out a handful of crumbs upon the snow, and its first discoverer will joyously call his mates to share in it; and if fights do occasionally arise over the division, it is apparent that there is no malice about them, but that, like the Irish, the sparrow fights from high spirits and “a love of divarshun.”

While the sparrow is favourably viewed by the dwellers of towns and their suburbs, it must be owned that he is not regarded in the same light in the agricultural districts. He is eminently a Socialist, and inclines to the doctrine of equal rights. When he is comparatively few in numbers man does not grudge him the small share he claims, but when his numbers are legion it becomes another matter. The farmer regards his stacks and his crops as his private property, and when myriads of sparrows demand toll the agriculturist is apt to become rusty. He sees the sparrow only on his predaceous side, and has no leisure to investigate his amiable qualities. The few insects the sparrow may destroy in his leisure moments weigh but little in the farmer’s mind as against the loss of his crops of cherries, the general destruction of his peas, or a wholesale raid upon his corn stacks, and so he betakes himself to net and gun. This would seem hard upon the sparrow; but he has no right to take it amiss, for it is his own habit to wage a war of extermination against other birds wherever he obtains a footing. The native birds of North America are rapidly disappearing before the army of sparrows that have sprung from the few hundreds sent out to cope with the caterpillar which devastated the trees in the parks and open spaces in New York—just as the aborigines of the country have been almost wiped out by the Anglo-Saxon settlers. Even in this country he is fast driving out other and more useful birds; the tits and the finches abandon neighbourhoods where he abounds, and the house martin has almost disappeared from some localities. The consequences of this tyrannical conduct will, in the long run, recoil upon the sparrow himself. With the decrease of the insect-feeding birds, the pests of our fields and gardens will so multiply that, in self-defence, a crusade against the sparrow will be organised in all rural districts. The movement has, indeed, already begun in many localities, and in the future we may expect the sparrow to leave the country side, where he is neither liked nor appreciated, and to establish himself altogether in towns, where his sprightliness and fearlessness render him a favourite.

It may be admitted that his voice is not the strong point of the sparrow, but perhaps it is as well that this should be the case, for were he vocal the volume of sound would be unbearable in neighbourhoods where he abounds. There is, however, a cheeriness and good-fellowship about his confident and inquisitive little chirp, and occasionally in the days of his courtship he can emit a very cheerful little song. Although so domestic in his habits, the sparrow takes but little trouble with his nest. It is a ragged collection of odds and ends, and is evidently built on the assumption that his offspring will, like himself, have to be handy and shift for themselves, and that anything like luxury would be thrown away upon them. As a conversationalist the sparrow excels. His short notes are very numerous and varied, he is fond of learning the opinions of his neighbours, and of laying down the law himself. Animated discussions, warming sometimes into quarrels, arise frequently from these consultations upon the housetop; but they seldom last long. There is a rush into a bush and a hot pursuit, sharp angry cries, and a momentary tussle; and then, the matter having been arranged, the disputants separate amicably and proceed on their various business.

The flight of the sparrow is not elegant; he wastes no time in graceful curves and turnings, but hurls himself straight at his mark. He has none of the restlessness of the migrants; he has hard times here when the ground is frozen and food is scarce, but he takes the rough with the smooth, and has no thought of seeking warmer climes. Contenting himself with the shelter of a bush, he fluffs out his feathers, and reduces himself into the smallest compass, so that he is almost unrecognisable as the alert little bird with long neck and sprightly movements that we know in the summer. His confidence in the goodwill of man in the time of his distress is touching. Blackbirds, starlings, and thrushes will come to share the feast man throws out; but they never lose their fear of him, and are ready to take flight at the first sign of his presence. The sparrow and the robin will alone hold their ground, will light on the window sill fearlessly, and will, if encouraged, even come into the room through the open window; and the man must be hard of heart indeed who will refuse to give them the little they need to save them from perishing. Fortunately for the sparrow, his flesh is not particularly toothsome, and there is but little of it. Were it otherwise, it is to be feared that he would not be spared; but that as Goths are found capable of devouring that charming songster, the lark, still less respect would be shown to the friendly sparrow.

Doubtless, the bird would be a less imposing national emblem than the eagle, especially when the latter is adorned with two or three heads; but he would be at least as respectable a one. A cock sparrow rampant would be a not unfitting emblem of the push, the energy, the hardiness, the pluck, and the domesticity of the Englishman; and even its self-sufficiency and its cockiness should not be taken amiss by a nation who are, by the general consent of mankind, the most arrogant and self-sufficient people upon earth. Should anything happen to put us out of conceit with the lion, we cannot do better than instal the sparrow in his place upon the national arms.