The sweet little song of a Henslow's Sparrow can stop anyone in their tracks...

Crossing through the grass of the High Meadow, I was trying to follow the erratic path of a Monarch butterfly who apparently was on a mission that did not include stopping at photogenic flowers to sip nectar and be photographed, but instead required a hasty retreat over the closest hill. Feeling just the tiniest bit defeated, I marveled at how quickly he could get from here to there…and how “quickly” I couldn't, but in a flash, a very gentle “tsi-lick” froze me in my tracks and quickened my heart. The song I had heard off in the distance earlier was suddenly very near, and a small brown bird jumped up and dove for cover, skimming over grasses and landing no more than ten feet in front of me. I watched as he nervously twitched and dipped on a Bradford Pear sapling, surveying his territory, vigilant of predators. He almost seemed tame as I stood there, so I did nothing when I felt the first tings of water on my hands and arms. If a gentle rain shower was not going to bother him, it wasn't going to bother me either, and we both stayed put--me looking at him always; he looking at me occasionally. When the drops stopped, his song started back up even heartier than before.








The soft, little song of a Henslow's Sparrow slows you down. It is gentle and sweet…and relaxing. Standing in grass up to my waist as I studied his bill and lovely feather patterns, I could feel all the “bigger” stimuli in the field and in my mind dropping away. Suddenly I could see myriad tiny grasshoppers all around, hopping here and there between blades of grass, food for the Henslow's Sparrows no doubt, and invisible to us most of the time as our minds run at normal speeds.

Click here to listen to the song of the Henslow's Sparrow.