White-throated Sparrows
Very late this afternoon, not long before sunset, several White-throated Sparrows called their sibilant tseets from hidden spots around our front yard. One whistled a clear Oh Sweet Canada song. Although I’ve been hearing the calls and songs of a few White-throated Sparrows since mid October, I hadn’t really seen one well until today.
Deep in the glossy green leaves of a cleyera bush I saw something rustling around, and a fine, plump White-throated Sparrow came into clear view – only a few feet away from where I sat on the porch. It was handsomely marked, with a rich brown back and wings beautifully patterned in black and orange-brown streaks; a gray breast with slight shadowy streaks along the gray flanks; a black-and-white striped head with a touch of deep yellow over the bill; and a neat white throat.
There seemed to be very few other birds around at all, though sometimes this is an active time of day, when birds come for a dip in the birdbath or a last drink of water before the night. Today I could only hear the distant calls of Carolina Wren, Downy Woodpecker, Red-bellied Woodpecker, and a closer Northern Cardinal. An Eastern Towhee kicked up leaves under a hedge of wax myrtles.
It had been a mild, warm, breezy day, full of brown leaves showering down from the white oaks around the house. Now, as the sun dropped lower, the yard fell deeper into shadows and a few katydids joined crickets in singing – though it seems very late in the year for katydids. When the sun went down, White-throated Sparrows in the bushes all around began to exchange more calls as they settled in for the night, mostly tseeets and a few sharp, emphatic chinks.
In summer, White-throated Sparrows live and nest in the forests of Canada and parts of the northern U.S. In winter, they move further south, and are among the most common sparrows here, found in many places – around yards with plenty of shrubs or hedges, and in vacant fields and thickets, in parks and neighborhoods, and anywhere with low, dense vegetation. They come out often to forage by kicking up leaves like Towhees, but they also stay hidden much of the time in the shrubs, and sometimes make their presence known best by their calls – an important part of winter’s landscape here. Their high, haunting whistled songs are among the loveliest sounds of the season, especially at twilight times.