“Down in the garden a Song Sparrow once insisted on building, not only in a flower-bed, but among the stalks of perishable plants that would wither long before the young left the nest. To prevent disaster, we drove stakes on each side of the nest, fastened a fruit-box underneath, and a shelter overhead, so that, when the overhanging blossoms faded, the sun might not make broiled squabs of the little ones. This brood was raised successfully, but to our surprise the Sparrows began a second nest directly opposite the first in the brush of the line of sweet-peas. The location was chosen with more judgment, but in picking the pea blossoms I passed within a foot of the nest every morning during the whole time of building, hatching, and feeding of the young.
“This did not trouble the parents in the least; they seemed to know that I would neither hurt them nor intrude upon their privacy, by watching their movements too closely, and the father of the family repaid me by such music as I never before believed could come from the throat of even a Song Sparrow.
“At first I wondered why they should have chosen a garden border, when there were so many near-by bushes about the orchard edge, and tufted grasses and scrubs in a waste meadow over the way. For, familiar as the Song Sparrow is, and fearless, too, yet he is a reserved bird even among his kin, not even travelling in great flocks, and does not care, even when in the full spring ecstasy of song, to be very near another singer.
“Presently I discovered the reason. Song Sparrows love water, both for drinking and bathing: and, possibly from close association with it, these bubblings of the little wayside brooks have had an influence upon their song. This particular year was a time of severe drought; the near-by streams were dried up early in June, and the ‘birds’ bath,’ made of a hollowed-out log, and put in the shelter of some vines at the far end of the garden, was the nearest available water within half a mile. This trough was filled every night, and as the hollow sloped gently at one end, small birds could either walk in it to bathe, or perch on the edge to drink; and it was the sight of the first brood all bathing there, a few days after they left the nest, that made me sure that it was this little watering trough to which I owed their presence.