XXX. AN INTERVIEW WITH A COCK-SPARROW.

“Believe me,” said the sparrow, “it pays to be civilized.”

“You seem to have found it so,” I answered. “You and the rook, I take it, are just the two of our birds which have lost nothing and gained much by man’s presence in our island.”

“I believe you,” said the sparrow, cocking his head on one side. He seemed ill to recognize the solemnity of being interviewed, which to the human subject is like having your photograph taken, combined with a compound visit to the dentist. “We are a dominant race, you see; that’s just where it is. We have adapted ourselves to the environment. Birds like jays and hawfinches, now, are too shy and retiring: as civilization advances, they retreat and skulk and can’t march with the age; but we and the rooks, we take advantage of every increase of human population to redouble our numbers. As fast as cultivation grows, we grow; man exists to provide us with food and shelter.”

“Then you think your race has increased, and is still increasing?” I asked.

“Not a doubt of it, my dear sir. We have multiplied enormously. Before the age of tillage, we were probably a small and unimportant group, no more conspicuous or remarkable in any way than the wretched little siskins, or the grasshopper-warblers. But as cultivation develops, we develop, if you will excuse my Latin, pari passu. (Oh, yes, I know Latin well, because a near cousin of mine is the Passer Italiæ.) However, as I was going to say when you interrupted me with a question, we have spread about everywhere that grain will grow in Europe. That’s because we are bold, courageous birds, not afraid of every passing object we see, like the bluethroats and the creepers; while at the same time we are cautious, quick, eager, and wary, and get out of the way of danger at a moment’s notice. My own opinion is that even in Europe we must have been a mere handful of birds before cultivation spread, and that since that time we have pushed ourselves by our energy and enterprise into a leading position. About great cities alone, we may be reckoned by our myriads; and then, just look at our colonial expansion!”

“You have emigrated largely, I believe,” I said, “to America and the Colonies?”

“Bless my soul, yes; we have followed European civilization almost everywhere. We allow mankind to go ahead of us for a few years, just to prepare the way, and get our corn and oats into working order; and then we gain a foothold in the newly acquired lands, and naturally oust the uncivilized natives. We have annexed America, and are killing out inferior types in many other regions. What do I mean by inferior types? Why, non-sparrows, of course; such lower grades, don’t you know, as Australians and New Zealanders.”

“Excuse my asking a delicate question, but do you do much damage, from the farmer’s point of view, to the crops and the gardens? You see, we men have a narrow-minded way of regarding these things from a somewhat restricted human standpoint.”

The sparrow gazed at me hard out of the corner of his eye. “Well, I don’t want it put in print,” he said confidentially, “for farmers are so unreasonable; but I will admit that at certain times of the year we do pick up a good many seeds out of fields and gardens. But then, consider how many insects we help to eat up. Why, I lived for a week last year upon aphides—what the farmers call bean-bugs. We must be philosophical, my dear sir; we must be philosophical. There’s a give-and-take in these affairs, you may depend upon it.”

He ruffled his neck as he spoke, and I observed it was marked by a conspicuous black band I had never before noticed.

“That’s a pretty cravat of yours,” I interposed, just to change the subject.

“Yes, it is pretty,” he admitted, swelling himself out a bit as he said it. “Our women don’t have them, you know, nor the young ones either. This beautiful decoration is the peculiar glory and special distinction of the adult cock-sparrow.” And anything cockier than he looked at that moment it would be hard to imagine.

It occurred to me as he spoke that I had seldom seen a slenderer form of masculine adornment on which to pride one’s self, till I suddenly recollected that a black moustache on a human face must be as relatively inconspicuous to any other species; and I have never noticed that the possessors of well-grown black moustaches under-rated their importance.

“You have a large family, I believe,” I remarked, as he chirped to his mate cheerily.

“Oh, several of them,” he answered with a nonchalant air; “sometimes as many as three yearly. We are a dominant race, you know, and we don’t always trouble to build our own nests; we just drive out a house-martin, or take possession of a sand-martin’s burrow in a cutting. Arbitrary, did you say? Oh, well, you see, we are sparrows; and, of course, we can make a much better use of them. Poor devils of martins, they have to go elsewhere, and house themselves as best they may—the survivors, that is to say, for a good many of them get killed and torn to pieces in the process of readjustment. They’re such savages, you see; we’re obligea to be sharp with them. Why, I’ve known a horde of house-martins fight in defence of their wretched mud hovels till we were compelled to exterminate them. Well, I’m off now; ta-ta! Mind you send me a copy of your paper with this interview. And oh, by the way, if you describe my wife, just make the most you can of that pale streak over her eye, will you? It is all she has to be proud of, poor thing. She’s not as distinguished-looking as I am, of course; but let her down gently, please; do let her down gently.”