Sparrows by the Bushful

Late this aftenoon I was in the main street of Murray Bridge, my home town. I was waiting to cross the street at the lights. It was almost on sunset, the last rays of the sun just visible. My attention was drawn to a nearby bush, part of the tree and bush plantings along the footpaths.

This bush – I’m not sure what species it was – had a roar of bird twitterings coming from it. Even above the noise of homeward bound traffic, the call was unmistakeable: House Sparrows. And not just a couple. It seemed like there were several hundred sheltering in the single bush, getting ready to settle down to another frosty night.

I didn’t see any birds – just heard them. And around the base of the bush the footpath was painted white with their droppings.