The old ways

Here in the States, Passer domesticus goes by a couple of different common names, the English sparrow and the house sparrow. I use them interchangeably, but in the present context will try to keep to "house sparrow". Both that and the scientific name refer to the sparrow's long-standing commensal relationship with people; the species has been living in and around human habitations probably since the development of agriculture in the Fertile Crescent some ten thousand years ago. ("English sparrow" may represent the immediate antecedents of the introduced North American population, but the species originated in the Middle East, and is probably the sparrow referenced in the Book of Matthew: "Are not two sparrows sold for a farthing? And one of them shall not fall on the ground without your Father." House sparrows have long been a food source, for people and for hawks, and eight for a penny would be a fantastic deal; the price of hawk food has gone up since the days of Jesus.)

[Here the verse is "Give us this day our daily bread."]

While a few populations in Asia still live independently, through most of its now nearly worldwide range the house sparrow is an obligate commensal species, nesting in the nooks and crannies of our homes, barns, and commercial buildings even where the surrounding habitat is unsuitable. And while this arrangement has worked out well for the house sparrow, its success here in North America at least has come at the expense of bluebirds, swallows, and other native cavity-nesting birds.

Every once in a while, however, house sparrows revert to the habits of their ancestors and other weaver finches, and build globe nests in trees. Jessa and I happened upon one of these rare colonies recently near Covington, Indiana. 

The tree, I believe, was a river birch (not my strongest subject, trees), and contained at least three nests. The lowest was easiest to photograph and, happily, was maintained by a cooperative and photogenic pair of sparrows. 

At least one bird was on or near the nest at all times, but Jessa got a good shot of the cock perched next to the front door while light shone through from the back door.

When I was younger, I was fairly militant about non-native birds, but I have since hunted house sparrows with various small hawks, and they have earned at least my grudging respect (and it might be more accurate to say my enthusiastic respect) as quarry. Besides which, thanks to their tree-nesting habits this particular colony is doing no harm, so I hope no one will object if I wish them well.