The Register Citizen (Torrington, CT)

For little brown sparrows, it’s their turn

- ROBERT MILLER Contact Robert Miller at earthmatte­rsrgm@gmail.com

Mixing it up in skittering flocks, there’s a host of sparrows noshing now.

The little brown jobs are in seedy gardens, on lawns, or at the tangles at the edges of open fields.

For if, for everything there is a season, it’s their turn.

“It’s a perfect time to look for sparrows,” said Stefan Martin, habitat steward at Deer Pond Farm, the Connecticu­t Audubon’s nature center in Sherman. Martin led a sparrow walk there last week. He’ll lead another on Nov. 10, starting at 9 a.m.

And they are, for birds that get clumped together and overlooked, an interestin­g bunch. Some sparrows are year-rounders here. Some stay for the summer, others are snowbirds. The population changes through the seasons.

So does their diet. In the summer, they’re insecteate­rs. But now, when fall plants are ripe with seeds, their hard, rounded beaks are made for cracking them open.

“September, October and November are really great sparrow times,” said Jenny Dickson, director of the wildlife division at the state Department of Energy and Environmen­tal Protection.

“We’ve had 27 different species recorded in the state,” said Patrick Comins, executive director of the Connecticu­t Audubon Society.

Some are common. Two are endangered in Connecticu­t, one existentia­lly so.

The ubiquitous city bird — the house sparrow, or English sparrow — doesn’t belong here. It’s an Old World species brought to New York City in 1852 by bird enthusiast Eugene Schieffeli­n to combat an infestatio­n of linden moths eating its way through Manhattan’s greenery.

The house sparrow did that. But it also multiplied like crazy, then drove away native species, damaged flower beds, and feasted on butterflie­s. There are now 540 million house sparrows in the U.S. and they’re considered a nonnative invasive species. (Schieffeli­n doubled down on this. In 1890, he introduced starlings to Manhattan — another Old World species that’s taken over North America by the millions, from Alaska to Newfoundla­nd to Mexico.)

The sparrows that do belong here are members of the Emberizine family.

It includes two species that aren’t particular­ly

sparrowy — towhees and juncos. The rest are cut out of the same brown cloth. They’re small and brown and striped. Some have clear, unmarked breasts. Some have striped breasts.

There are social, congregati­ng in mixed flocks. Chipping sparrows don’t mob a white-throated sparrow if one stops by for a meal.

It’s learning the differ

ences that makes some birders sparrow devotees.

“It does take a little time and effort to learn them,” the DEEP’s Dickson said. “It’s a challenge.”

Many sparrows favor thick bushy cover. Others, like white-throated sparrows and fox sparrows, will venture out to scratch seed at winter feeders.

The two endangered sparrow species in the state are the grasshoppe­r

sparrow and the saltmarsh sparrow.

Grasshoppe­r sparrows are small and buff-breasted. They like dry grasslands, a habitat that’s mostly gone in the state. As a result, they’re a native species that’s disappeari­ng.

“There’s only two or three places in the state where they nest,” Comins said.

While they’re endangered in Connecticu­t, there are other places in the U.S. where they’re doing fine. What their loss means to the state is the loss of grassland habitat and all the other species that need those open fields as well.

“It’s that biodiversi­ty,” Dickson said of grasshoppe­r sparrow habitat “We’re losing that.”

As their name suggests, saltmarsh sparrows nest in the salt marshes along the Atlantic Coast from Maine to Virginia. Comins said Connecticu­t is a globally significan­t nesting site for them.

But these sparrows time their nesting, hatching and fledging their young to the 28 days between spring high tides. Because of climate change and rising sea levels, those nests are getting flooded out, their nests destroyed.

As a result, saltmarsh sparrows may be gone by midcentury.

“They’re likely to go extinct,” Comins said.

 ?? Patrick Comins / Connecticu­t Audubon Society ?? The salt marsh sparrow, a song bird found in coastal marshes from Maine to Virginia, is losing about 9 percent of its population each year. Sea level rise and a transformi­ng environmen­t are predicted to seal the bird’s grim fate. The sparrow is projected to join the likes of the dodo bird and passenger pigeon within the next 51 years.
Patrick Comins / Connecticu­t Audubon Society The salt marsh sparrow, a song bird found in coastal marshes from Maine to Virginia, is losing about 9 percent of its population each year. Sea level rise and a transformi­ng environmen­t are predicted to seal the bird’s grim fate. The sparrow is projected to join the likes of the dodo bird and passenger pigeon within the next 51 years.
 ??  ??

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