He is the best scavenger the Londoners have got, and I counsel them to
prize their sparrows, unless they would be overrun with uncomfortable
creatures; and possibly he plays his part indirectly in keeping down
disease. They say in some places he attacks the crocus. He does not
attack mine, so I suspect there must be something wrong with the
destroyed crocuses. Some tried to entice him from the flower with crumbs;
they would perhaps have succeeded better if they had bought a pint of
wheat at the seedsman's and scattered it. In spring, sparrows are not
over-fond of crumbs; they are inordinately fond of wheat. During the
months of continued dry, cold, easterly winds, which we have had to
endure this season, all insect-eating birds have been almost as much
starved as they are in winter when there is a deep snow. Nothing comes
forth from the ground, nothing from the deep crannies which they cannot
peck open; the larva remains quiescent in the solid timber. Not a speck
can they find. The sparrow at such a time may therefore be driven to
opening flower-buds. Looked at in a broad way, I am convinced he is a
friend. I have always let them build about the house, and shall not drive
them away.
If you do not know anything of insects, the fields are somewhat barren to
you. The buttercups are beautiful, still they are buttercups every day.
The thrush's song is lovely, still one cannot always listen to the
thrush. The fields are but large open spaces after a time to many, unless
they know a little of insects, when at once they become populous, and
there is a link found between the birds and the flowers.
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