The song of the White-crowned Sparrows is one of the
most-studied sounds in all of animal behavior; the first time I heard
one singing at Unpaving Paradise was on a spring day in 2013 (our p-patch's
third season), from a tree that overlooks our garden.This white-crowned proclaimed its ownership of the area, its health, and its virility -- incessantly -- in song. Our garden (and the small park it is situated in) is surrounded by apartment buildings, roads, and parking lots. This species of sparrow does quite well in our busy city; still, as the days went by, I couldn't help thinking that he sounded a bit forlorn.
But suddenly one day, there was a break in the singing ---
and now two White-crowned Sparrows where flying and flitting among the
shrubs and trees of the park. Soon, the two birds were carrying mouths full of
straw, and disappearing with them into a patch of park ground cover (Point Reyes ceanothus).
A few days later, the steady stream of building materials
were being ferried to a new location: the raspberry patch in the plot my
partner Tracy and I garden! A sparrow
would dive into the thick mass of raspberry plants with a beak full of straw or
twigs, the raspberry canes and leaves would shake for a bit, and them out would
fly the bird, with an empty beak.
Time passed. There
was still occasion for strident singing, as well as chasing Junco's out of the
p-patch. We resisted searching for the
nest among the growing mass of raspberry plants, not wanting to worry parents
or disturb babies.
Then, on June 1st, we were admiring our quickly
growing vegetables, when Tracy saw a crow staring intently at a spot on the
ground next to our raspberries, from the fence that borders the p-patch. It was watching a featherless baby sparrow,
on its back, flailing about, and appearing too young and weak to stand. We also spotted a second baby on the other
side of the raspberry patch, but this one was on its feet, looking older and
stronger, and moving toward cover.
We decided that the second baby was ready to be out of the
nest, but that the first would likely be lunch for the crow if we didn't
intervene. Parting the tangled raspberry
canes, I found an empty nest, gently picked up the fledgling in my gloved
hands, and placed it back in.
We checked the nest the following day. It was empty again.
There is no way to know, but we hope the young bird we put
back in the nest that day was one of the three juvenile White-crowns we
eventually saw scurrying about the garden that summer.
As the raspberries
leaf out and form flower buds this spring, and vegetable seeds and starts are
planted; we will listen for the beautiful, and strident song, of the
White-crowned Sparrow.
