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The bird next door

3/6/2026

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Off, off and away ... a male house sparrow. Photos: Gayle Marien
By Gayle Marien
 
WE HAVE so many wonderful birds on the Bass Coast that it’s easy not to notice the humble house sparrow. When I lived in the city, there were always sparrows scavenging for crumbs around cafe tables. Some were bold enough to steal a tasty morsel from our plates. As close as they came, I never took the time then to appreciate what enchanting little birds they are. It’s true they’re not a native bird, but they’ve been in Australia since the 1860s. 
Sparrows acclimatised so quickly they became part of the Aussie vernacular before the 19th century was done. Many a dairy farmer has been heard to say, “I’m up at sparrow’s fart,” as they drag themselves from bed in the pre-dawn hours. What time is sparrow’s fart? It’s early enough to be so quiet you could hear a sparrow pass wind, or so I’m told. It turns out it’s a myth, as sparrows don’t fart at all!
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A female house sparrow in a rare moment of stillness
Let’s move on to more delicate associations. Across countries and time, sparrows have been heralds in matters of the heart. In ancient Egypt, they were associated with the goddess Isis, who symbolised motherhood, healing, and rebirth. In Greek mythology, sparrows are sacred birds of Aphrodite, the goddess of love. They are messengers of spirituality, romance, and passion. In Chinese culture, a sparrow flying into your home can signal joy, a wedding, or the birth of a child.

​With all this talk of love, it’s only fitting that the male sparrow dresses for the part. The black throat and chest patch, which increases in size and intensity with age, is only seen on the male. Often called his badge, some say it is a marker of status within the group; the sparrow equivalent of black tie and tails. I’m sure the female sparrows know who’s who.
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It’s not all romance though, and the sparrow is well equipped for the daily business of living. It has a rather stubby, cone-shaped beak designed to crush seeds, to peck at wood where insects might be hiding, and to snatch flying insects from the air. I watched a sparrow attack a huntsman spider that was frantically climbing our flywire door to escape. Having dived at it several times, the sparrow successfully knocked it to the ground and killed it with a single stab of its beak to the spider’s back. It then picked the huntsman up in its beak and flew off with it, presumable to feed its family.
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A juvenile house sparrow, showing the yellow gape flange typical of a recently fledged bird
Now and then sparrows visit our yard to peck at our lawn, but I don’t see them as often as I used to. They are known for adapting to life around humans and for making a home in urban spaces. I wondered where they’d gone, if their numbers were in decline.

​I was pleased to read that in a 2021 study the house sparrow was ranked number one on a list of the world’s most prolific wild bird species. It was estimated that of the 50 billion wild birds on the planet, 1.6 billion were house sparrows. They were one of only four species with wild populations exceeding 1 billion. So they are still here, somewhere. I’ll be keeping an eye out for them.
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