The white-throated sparrow, besides its namesake throat
patch, can be identified by its striped head and yellow
between the eyes and bill. Its distinctive song, “Poor Sam
Peabody, Peabody, Peabody” can be heard in our area
throughout the winter months.
November 7, 2014
White-throated Sparrow
Poor Sam Peabody.
Peabody, Peabody.
Now, I’ve never met this Peabody fellow, nor do I have any idea of what led to his condition of “Poor” (or, in
some circles, “Old”) but one thing’s for sure. Sam Peabody is The Man, at least as far as talk among white-
throated sparrows is concerned.
Bird vocalizations are often as important as plumage when it comes to identifying species. But because people
and birds don’t speak the same language, we humans have found it helpful to associate words with the songs
the birds sing. Used this way, the words become mnemonics – gimmicks that help us recall or memorize things
more easily.
And that’s where Sam Peabody comes in. He, or it, is one of a few mnemonic devices that have been applied to
the song of the white-throated sparrow. The others – Old Sam Peabody, Peabody, Peabody; O Sweet Canada,
Canada, Canada; and Where Are You Frederick, Frederick, Frederick – work well too. But since “Poor Sam…” was
the first one I learned and it’s the one I still rely on today.
It came to mind recently during a walk at the Hickory Knolls Natural Area in St. Charles. The clear, whistled notes
hit my ears as we walked through a partially restored woodland and it wasn’t long before I saw the source. A
handsome specimen, it was perched toward the end of a low,
leafless branch. A few flockmates, a mixed group that included
other white-throats and some juncos, scratched at the leaf litter
below.
White-throated sparrows are members of the Emberizine
sparrow family, a mostly brown, similar-looking group that can
sometimes give amateur birders like me fits. But, unlike the
Lincoln’s sparrow, which looks nothing like Lincoln, or the
Henslow’s sparrow, which bears little resemblance to John
Stevens Henslow, the 19th-century boanist, the white-throat
has a name that describes it perfectly.
A bright white patch surrounds the bird’s throat like an ascot and is bordered along the top by a black line, or
“whisker,” on either side. The breast below is a streaky or smudgy gray; on both sides of the bird’s face, in the
spaces between the bill and eyes called the lores, two bright yellow patches serve as other distinguishing field
marks.
But what has always caught my eye is the white-throated sparrow’s striped head. In a pattern that, other than
color, is reminiscent of a University of Michigan football helmet, the white-throated sparrow’s noggin bears
either black and white or brown and tan stripes.
That’s right– two color morphs, one species. What makes things even more interesting is that the two morphs
seem to seek out birds of the other plumage. That is, a white-striped bird will be seen with a tan-striped mate,
and vice versa.
Further, research has shown that white-striped birds tend to be more dominant. The males especially are more
aggressive, more vocal, less apt to help with rearing young and more likely to be promiscuous. By contrast, tan-
striped males are quieter and more helpful around the nest, sometimes to the point of becoming Mr. Mom.
The bird we saw at Hickory Knolls seemed to fit that first profile. It was a white-striped morph, and it was
singing. Not necessarily odd behavior, until you stop to consider that, in our area, white-throats are migrants,
not residents. This non-resident status should mean that there’s no territory to defend and, therefore, not much
reason to sing.
But sing it did, as do many white-striped morphs wintering here. Perhaps they’re just showing off, but maybe
they’re practicing. White-throated sparrows, like many bird species, learn their songs from older tutors –
typically their fathers. While the full song is what we hear most often, I’ve also heard white-throats in the early
stages of this learning process, at times crooning about Poor Sam Pea…Pea…, or Poor Pea-bod-dee-dee-dee.
If white-throated sparrows are on your list of birds to see this winter, keep your eyes, and ears, open. White-
throats are common in most local woodlands and also visit birdfeeders, though they are just as likely to scratch
among the seeds on the ground as feed from the unit itself.
Just be careful not to confuse them with white-crowned sparrows. Not to muddy things up, but white-crowns
have a head-stripe pattern similar to that of the white-throat. However, white crowns have a clear, unstreaked
breast, no white throat, and, perhaps most important, speak not of Poor Sam Peabody, Peabody, Peabody.
Rather, white-crowns chirp merrily about another unfortunate soul: Poor Jo-Jo… Peed His Pants.
But that’s another story, for another time.
Pam Otto is the manager of nature programs and interpretive services at the Hickory Knolls Discovery Center, a
facility of the St. Charles Park District. She can be reached at potto@stcparks.org or 630-513-4346.