The sky was gray, the wind was sharp and there were still traces of snow in the ditches when I heard my first Song Sparrow this spring on March 13th. It sang from a hay field, what T. S. Roberts called “the sweet cheery song,” one of the first songsters of the new spring.
Song Sparrows are nearly ubiquitous in North America, ranging from the Aleutian Islands and Alaska throughout Canada to Newfoundland; and as far south as Baha and east to Florida. Although they seldom spend the winter in Minnesota (there are a few records) they do winter as far north as Iowa. Because they are short distance migrators, they are quick to respond to the favorable conditions of warm temperatures and melting snow, hence the early arrival of the bird I heard in mid-March. It is instructive to note that in Roberts’ 1932 The Birds of Minnesota, his earliest record for a southern Minnesota sighting was March 14, 1914, a clear hint of the effects of global warming on the species.
Because of their far-reaching range, there are many different subspecies of the sparrows. Southwestern song sparrows tend to be lightest in color; Alaskan adults are the largest and darkest of the subspecies ( a phenomenon known as Bergmann’s Rule, though something that should not be taken as the Gospel truth.) One would expect plumage differences to appear in such a widely-distributed species, since birds mate with those nearest them. Yet the genetic divergence is low—there is sufficient mixing of the gene pool to prevent speciation. Look for a medium-sized bird with a streaky breast that includes a central breast spot. Males sing in the open, easy to spot; but song sparrows skulk in the weeds, as well, noisy but unseen.
Song Sparrows are clearly and immediately identifiable by their complex, three-part song. I learned it as “Maids, maids, maids- put on your – tea kettle-ettle-ettle,” but others seem to think the birds are calling to “Madge” in particular to put on the tea kettle. Again, like plumage variation, there is great variation in the song. Roberts urges birders to hone in on the voice quality and not the specific song, since individual birds in the same area sing their own special twist. Males sing to defend a territory and to attract females. Researchers have learned that females are drawn to males that incorporate more intricate, learned segments in their song, thus selecting for complex individualism.
These sparrows nest on the ground or from one to four feet from the ground in a thick bush. Their nests are devilishly hard to spot. For twenty years, I have not been able to discover the nest of sparrows that nest along our beach path on Lake Superior. Nests are woven of coarse grasses and weed stalks. They lay three to five eggs that are white, mottled with brown.
Thanks to a researcher in the 1920s and 30s, Margaret Morse Nice, we know more about the natural history of Song Sparrows than of any other perching bird (see accompanying article.) When her study, which was done over many years, was published, it filled two volumes. As common as they are, Song Sparrow numbers have taken a nose dive like most other North American birds. The species has declined 27% between 1966-2019.
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