Evidence tree sparrows are taking over

One simple distinction is that tree sparrows at that time were not expected to visit areas near houses and other buildings; they preferred open spaces, parkland, woodlands and even river banks. Indeed, an old reference book which is about 70 years old and which I still have on my shelf, states “the tree sparrow is a bird of the countryside”.

Usually in winter, they move around in small flocks.

House sparrows on the other hand spent, and still spend, a great deal of time around domestic dwellings and farm buildings, even nesting under their eaves or in other convenient holes.

House sparrows do not appear to be alarmed at the presence of humans or deterred by our activities.

They are usually seen in pairs.

Now, however, in 2014 we seem to be getting more tree sparrows than house sparrows both near our house and upon our bird feeders.

House sparrows no longer nest under our eaves and tree sparrows seem to have taken over from their cousins (albeit not nesting in such places), but their differences can be recognised.

At first glance house sparrows and tree sparrows look very similar but both the cock and hen tree sparrows have neat brown caps.

Under the chin of both sexes is a black bib which is much smaller than that of house sparrows, and the sexes are alike.

Male and female have warm brown upper plumage with wings marked with both black and white bars.

Whilst few of us may have noticed tree sparrows, it would be difficult to find anyone who hasn’t seen a house sparrow. These are the small brown birds that often seek crumbs around outdoor tables or who chirp incessantly, especially at dawn. The male house sparrow’s cap is grey but the female lacks that adornment, and she is a rather dowdy small brown bird. Brown caps for tree sparrows, grey for male house!

Minutes before settling down to compile these notes, I was gazing out of our kitchen window while making coffee and was fortunate to spot the two new arrivals at one of our bird feeders – the one containing seeds. At first glance I thought they were house sparrows but closer examination showed them to be rather too agile because they were coping with the feeder almost with the skill of blue tits and great tits.

House sparrows lack such an acrobatic talent.

It didn’t take long to identify them as tree sparrows with their warm brown caps along with distinctive black patch near their ears; they are also slightly smaller than house sparrows. In our case, tree sparrows attending our bird feeders are quite unusual because we don’t see them every day, but it seems they will disappear for no apparent reason, and then return when the mood takes them - or when they know food is available!

There is another small bird which is often called a sparrow but which is not related to these birds. It is sometimes called the hedge sparrow or hedge accentor, but its real name is dunnock. A dowdy brown colour with grey underparts, this unobtrusive little bird busies itself in our gardens by scurrying along the borders or through the shrubberies seeking titbits. It is difficult to notice against the earth or foliage, but will visit the ground beneath bird feeders in the hope of picking up a few fallen seeds. It seems unable to cope with the gymnastics required to take either seeds or to peck peanuts from our feeders.

A further problem of identification is that some of us think all small birds are sparrows when in fact a flock might be a gathering of several other species. I’ve heard someone refer to a gathering of finches as a flock of sparrows, and it does seem that this generalisation is widely used to refer to groups of unidentified small birds.

This is by no means new.

Even in Biblical times, small insect-eating or seed-eating birds were grouped together as sparrows. The name included those which (and I quote from Kitto’s Cyclopaedia of Biblical Literature) “are denominationally clean and those which might be eaten according to the law”.

These included most of the insect-eating and fruit-eating birds, all types of European thrush including rare ones such as the rosecoloured ousel and even the locust bird, the latter being renowned for its ability to catch and kill locusts.

Clearly, sparrows were considered important as food and the term included starlings, swallows, martins, night jars, thrushes, larks, nightingales, all finches and even crows in addition to several other seed-eating, fruit-eating and insect-eating small birds. In Syria, the bird known as the sparrow was closely related to our house sparrows; the Syrian variety also frequented the buildings of humans.

Even if our ancestors considered them all to be sparrows, I can’t imagine any of us wanting to eat them under whatever guise they were correctly known.

IAM reminded of an intriguing ghost story set in Wensleydale around Mill Beck that flows past Walk Mill near Harmby before entering the River Ure.

The snag is there are several versions of the yarn, all of which were said, in times past, to have terrified local people.

Apparently some unspeakable crime was committed by a member of the de Hercla family, landowners at what is now Harmby but previously known as Harneby.

Jordayne de Harcla may have murdered a woman called Ayesha, known as The Lady of Hernebi (sic).

The story said that her spirit was reincarnated in the form of a white doe that frequented the area near the beck and one day, when De Harcla was stalking the deer with a view to killing it, he was suddenly struck dead. It is said his ghost has haunted the locality since that time.

That is one version of the tale. Another version is that a ghostly woman in white could be seen haunting the beck side whilst yet another said that a massive spectral black dog could be seen and heard panting and snarling as it pursued the terrified white deer. More embellishments to the tale said that the sound of huntsmen, horses and hounds crashing through the undergrowth could also be heard in the darkness of night, especially near the site of Lady Ayesha’s grave.

I have no records of when the haunting was last said to have occurred but it seems that, in our modern society, the sighting of ghosts is becoming increasingly rare.

Maybe doubters should visit Walk Mill Beck on a moonless and very dark night during what used to be called the Witching Hour.