A Tale of Two Sparrows 

By Keith Michael

It was the best of sparrows, it was the worst of sparrows.

Bird watchers primarily fall into two clutches: those who love sparrows and those who dismiss them as not worth the bother. I’m not speaking of the ubiquitous black-bibbed male or the arguably drab vs. demure female European House Sparrows, which along with pigeons and starlings, are one of our most populous urban birds. House Sparrows are nearly unanimously, though no matter how wrongfully, despised by all. (To be bird-nerdy: House Sparrows are really “old world” sparrows so shouldn’t be judged against our native sparrows at all.)

Firstly, I’m among the bird watchers who enjoy being able to discern between the different kinds of sparrows, along with other tricky birds like gulls and shorebirds. Secondly, I’m talking about the nearly 20 stripey-brown species of local sparrows who call NYC home or visit regularly. Thirdly, I am a fan of urban birds in general for their spunk, adaptability, and yes, their beauty.

When you saw this article, you likely looked at the photos first, then checked out the captions for “the twist.” If you’ve read this far, you want to know more. My two Sparrows of the Month are the Lincoln’s Sparrow and the Clay-colored Sparrow. Both topped my list as my new West Village Birds #118 and #119, respectively. Both were seen in Hudson River Park, on consecutive days, on the south lawn of Gansevoort Peninsula. Hooray that we live in such a birdy city.

I’ve seen both of these elusive species before in New York City: a Clay-colored weaving in and out of an outfield fence on Randall’s Island as well as one at Beach 26th Street in Far Rockaway, and a Lincoln’s, most recently, plying the gardens of LaGuardia Place, tantalizingly close to the West Village. Neither are year-round residents but both hold annual time-shares during the winter months.

When compared side by side, these two might look entirely different from each other. The Lincoln’s Sparrow looks ball-shaped and striped. The Clay-colored Sparrow looks tall, sleek, and pale. But this is a little like seeing a friend curled up at home reading a book or running a marathon. One might see a bird svelte and alert or snuggled into their downy feathers. Maybe their head is buried in the grass or they just took flight at a loud noise. Perhaps they recently walked through mud or just took a bath. They could be out in the sun or eating lunch in the protection of deep shade. Any small change in what a bird is doing can drastically change what it looks like.

What do I like about sparrows? Selfishly, they’re often easier to see. Unlike warblers galloping through the tops of trees or raptors flying high overhead backlit by the sun, sparrows are often quite cooperative to watch near the ground. If they’re foraging in grass or leaves, they might even let you get fairly close if you don’t make any sudden movements. They’re quite skittish. When they’re singing, they’ll frequently perch right in the open on an exposed branch, grass stalk, or fence post. Once you see them, they always seem busy. Eating. The enticing challenge of sparrows, is discerning the subtle variations in stripes and shades of brown. Identification is also, frequently, a game of, “Which of these things is not like the others?” An additional convenience is that with only about 10 relatively common ones and another 10 more that are casual visitors, there aren’t too many different kinds of sparrows to keep in your head.

 Scanning a group of LBJ’s (Little Brown Jobs) one might first ask, “Are there any that aren’t House Sparrows?” The local House Sparrows do travel in congenial gangs, but sometimes there are a few local relatives mixed in. At this time of year, the most common party-crashers are the winters-only White-throated Sparrows—very helpfully named—or the striped-breasted Song Sparrows. The Song Sparrow’s name is most helpful in the summer when they’re frequently seen perched in some prominent location letting everyone know where they are. If a brown, stripey bird has a dark smudge in the center of its chest, it’s most likely a Song Sparrow. The next two candidates are the pink-billed, baby-faced Field Sparrow, and the yellow-stripe-over-the-eye Savannah Sparrow. Adult White-throated Sparrows also have a snappy yellow dot above and in front of their eye, so look closely. I think that this might be enough for Lesson One. I sense some eyes glazing over. 

 After looking at thousands of sparrows over the years, what stood out about these two, singular, new kids on the block? First of all, you really do have to look for them. They won’t jump out of a bush with a nametag helpfully pinned to their blazer like at a high school reunion. At Gansevoort Peninsula, I like to just sit on a rock in the sun and wait for them to come to me. I’m always looking for the bird that’s slightly different from the others. A Clay-colored Sparrow is very pale-feathered, compared to other sparrows, with a contrasting face pattern and a gray collar. The Lincoln’s Sparrow just seems classily dressed. Take a Song Sparrow, slim down the stripes like bespoke stitching on their waistcoat, and give a faint toffee watercolor wash to their vest to bring out the details. This dude is decked out for a fancy-dress holiday party.

 The next new sparrow on my list to see this season is the Vesper Sparrow—confusing in every way with other sparrows except that they have a super-obvious white ring around their eye! Or so I’ve been told. Oh, goody.