
When I was very small, one of the first birds I learned to recognize was the “English Sparrow,” as it was then called. Small and brown, unlike the colorful jays and cardinals at our feeders, it was a “downtown bird,” most often seen on sidewalks or in parking lots, especially where there were trash cans. I liked it because it was tame and approachable, and there were many of them, making them easy to recognize. So it was surprising to hear adults refer to it as “that bird,” in terms more pejorative than admiring.
I was surprised again to learn from Jan Thornhill’s handsome picture book, The Triumphant Tale of the House Sparrow, …









