The Vesper Sparrow — Finch Family — Fringillidæ
Length: A little over 6 inches; slightly larger than the field sparrow.
Male and Female: Brownish-gray above, with faint streaks of black and buff; wings brownish, with bright reddish-brown shoulders, giving this sparrow the name of Bay-Winged Bunting. Under parts white, the sides and breast streaked with black and buff; tail brownish, with outer tail-feathers mostly white, and conspicuous in flight.
Song: A plaintive minor strain, usually consisting of two notes followed by a trill. The syllables sound like Sweet’-heart, I love you-you-you-you-you.
Habitat: Grassy pastures and plowed fields, usually in the open, away from farmhouses and out-buildings.
Range: Eastern North America. Breeds from central Canada south to eastern Nebraska, central Missouri, Kentucky, Virginia, and North Carolina, west to western Minnesota; winters from the southern part of its breeding range to the Gulf Coast, west to central Texas.
The Vesper Sparrow is very easy to identify because of its white tail-feathers. They show conspicuously as the bird flutters beside hedges that border fields, frequently keeping just ahead of the observer.
The bird is less attractive in appearance than the other familiar sparrows, but has to my mind the sweetest voice of all the sparrows that I know except the fox sparrow. Its song is pensive and tender, with a spiritual quality that gives it a high rank. The song sparrow’s lay usually consists of three similar notes sung in a major key with a rising inflection, and followed by a cheerful trill; the vesper sparrow’s song generally has two plaintive notes preceding a trill, sung in a minor key. It is particularly beautiful and uplifting when several vesper sparrows are singing at sunset.
The Vesper Sparrow
When the meadows are brown or flushed with green
And the lark’s glad note rings clear,—
When the field sparrow’s voice like a silver bell
Chimes a melody sweet to hear,—
A small brown bird with bay-capped wings
And feathers white in his tail,
Flutters along by a roadside hedge
And alights on a zigzag rail,
And breathes forth a song entrancing,
Of a beauty surpassed by few—
A wistful, plaintive, minor strain—
“O Sweetheart, I love you!”
When a mist of green o’erspreads the trees,
And corals and rubies gay
Are hung on the maple and red-bud boughs,
And the brooks are babbling away,—
When the setting sun goes down in a glow
Of the purest primrose gold,
And the pearly east reflects a flush
From the glories the west doth hold,—
This brown bird then, with a soul in his voice,
Sings to his mate so true
The tenderest song of the April choir—
“O Sweetheart, I love you!”