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Sometimes, a topic needs and deserves more verbage than a typical blog entry. When we get on a roll on a subject, we'll post
longer commentaries here.
We may also dredge up some of our "greatest hits" - letters to the editor and such - to give readers an idea of
where our passions lie.
In Praise of Sparrows
December 2005
LBJs - the classic birders' bane. A double whammy of cryptic and skulky. But those who spend time studying sparrows find that
they have a way of growing on you. It typically starts with the gaudier ones: White-crowned, White-throated, Fox, Lark, and
Black-throated. As you're admiring the bold contrasts, subtle colors and patterns begin to seep into your subconscious. The
vibrant juxtaposition of rust, ivory, and slate in the plumage of a Red Fox Sparrow. Winter-sky grays on the breasts of the
Zonotrichias. The way the charcoal nape of a Black-throated shifts to olive on the mantle. Velvety black wing linings
on Lark Buntings in winter plumage. Pretty soon you're finding treasure in "the drabs": Kaleidoscopic patterns of maroon,
umber, caramel, pewter, and white on Lincoln's, and the pencil-thin white eyering and chestnut epaulet of Vesper. Banders
have the ultimate opportunity to appreciate the finer points of sparrow plumage, and it was with birds in hand that I became
well and truly hooked on their subtle splendor (I bet "splendor" is a word you never thought you'd see sharing a sentence
with "sparrow").
Patient scrutiny is rewarded with insights into their personalities. White-crowneds are the aristocratic artists; their stately
songs brighten sunny winter days. Lincoln's are positively savage, lunging at feeder rivals with open bills. Black-throateds
and Larks are usually seen in groups and seem to have strong family values. Sage Sparrows seem more rodent than bird as they
scurry from shrub to shrub like little chipmunks, their tails cocked skyward.
The West has been in the grip of drought for a decade, and sparrow populations have suffered. Lark Buntings and Brewer's Sparrows
seemed particularly hard hit. In the Sulphur Springs Valley, one of our favorite winter birding areas, we had grown accustomed
to seeing flocks numbering in the hundreds to thousands. Quiet dirt roads would be blanketed in buntings that would lift off
from the near edge first until the whole flock rolled across the landscape like a gigantic feathered tumbleweed. Then the
populations crashed, and we were afraid that we would never see such abundance again.
But wild creatures are resilient. Decent rains in 2004 gave the populations a boost, and this year is looking even better.
Good-sized flocks of many species have already arrived in the Sulphur Springs Valley, and the feeding station and water feature
in our yard have already lured many sparrows of diverse species: both "Mountain" and "Gambel's" White-crowneds, Lincoln's,
Brewer's, Chipping, and even the occasional stray Lark Bunting. Green-tailed Towhees, usually one of the most conspicuous
members of the family, are back in fair numbers, with at least two visiting our yard. This afternoon, a resident Black-throated
scratched around in the driveway gravel less than 15 feet from where Tom and I were sifting soil into a garden bed.
I'm scheduled to teach a two-day sparrow workshop in mid-January. The last couple of years it's been cancelled due to lack of interest, but maybe the rebounding sparrow numbers
will inspire a few birders to sign up. Even if it doesn't "go," I'll plan on spending a day getting reacquainted with these
vastly underrated birds. -- SW
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