Beauty of Earth Blog

A blog about my encounters with nature

A lesson from a sparrow

“Come forth into the light of things, let nature be your teacher.”
William Wordsworth

From a recent walk by the river, I learned a big lesson from a tiny teacher—a sparrow. I had just crossed the pedestrian bridge over the Fox River and heard a song from a single source. With snow covering the ground and the temperatures still quite chilly on most days, it seemed a bit early to hear a bird singing its spring melody. The sound was startling in its solitary beauty. I stood still to try to pinpoint the location of the bird, inching slowly forward to avoid startling the singer. At the end of the bridge I knew it was close by, so I faced that direction and scanned the bank of large evergreen trees screening a backyard from the public sidewalk.

There, right in the middle of the tree closest to me, the bird was on an outer branch. It shone in the midday sun, the only spot of brightness in the dense deep green. I was glad it chose to be so plainly visible, as if to show off its singing abilities. I could see it well enough to identify it as a type of sparrow, one with a light brown chest and that bird family’s small, conical-shaped bill. When it pointed its head upward to sing, I could see small vibrations on its throat. There were no answering calls; I felt as though it was singing just for me.

I watched it intently, studying its plumage as closely as I could. I wanted to be able to identify its species when I could consult a field guide at home. But without the benefit of binoculars, it was a challenge to feel confident of the markings. I was unable to see the top or back of its head and, while I thought the chest was free of striping and had a pointed dark mark near the neck, I couldn’t be certain. I considered trying to memorize the cadence of the song and later look up sparrow songbird recordings. But that’s tough to do as well, and I am not well practiced at identifying sparrows with my ears.

Like gulls, sparrows pose a tough identification challenge to birdwatchers. With few exceptions, they vary little in size and plumage. More than 30 sparrow species are found in North America, all of which come in shades of brown, often with striping on their chest, back and wings. They’re not showy, like warblers or cardinals, and they’re relatively common. I know I am not alone among birders in not having taken the time to sort through their differences.

Anxious to make an identification while the bird’s image and song were still fresh in my memory, I hurried home to pore over my bird guides. Still not sure of the species, I hopped onto the web and randomly listened to songs of sparrow species that may be found in this area. The song of the white throated sparrow came close, but the bird’s markings didn’t match. I felt frustrated, even annoyed.

There are many good reasons to explain our desire to identify the creatures we see in the wild. We can then answer questions like, have I ever seen this before? Was it something special in its rarity? What makes this species unusual or even unique? How does it behave? Is it just passing through on migration or does it live here year-round? All of these pieces of information enrich our outdoor experiences, making the wild creatures we see or hear come alive and seem more familiar in our minds. We come to know their personalities, even to identify with them in some ways.

The more I thought about that little sparrow, however, the more I realized my annoyance at failing to make an identification was misplaced. There it was, sitting there in the sunshine singing its heart out. It may have been singing to attract a mate. It may have been singing for the fun of it. Whatever the reason, it was a special moment, a generous gift offered freely. Next time, I will concern myself less about what, exactly, I am seeing or hearing and relish that moment of pure joy much more.

The Sparrow” by Paul Laurence Dunbar

A little bird, with plumage brown,
Beside my window flutters down.
A moment chirps its little strain,
The taps upon my window-pane.

And chirps again, and hops along,
To call my notice to its song;
But I work on, nor heed its lay
Til in neglect, it flies away.

So birds of peace and hope and love
Come fluttering earthward from above
To settle on life’s window-sills
And ease our load of earthly ills;

But we, in traffic’s rush and din,
Too deep engaged to let them in,
With deadened heart and sense plod on,
Nor know our loss till they are gone.

2 thoughts on “A lesson from a sparrow

  1. All birders have had this same experience – so focused on the ID that we miss the simple beauty of the bird, even a “lowly” sparrow. Thanks for the reminder to simply stop and enjoy the moment, whatever it may be.

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