Charles E. Burchfield (1893-1967)

I went at once back to painting. The heat increased mightily discouraging all things. I could not work steadily.  At times I watched the sparrows, who were feeding on the sun-flowers heads in the row behind the nasturtiums, imitating the goldfinches in this respect and also usurping the letters rightful place. Always have I associated the goldfinches chippering cry with August and September for they have always come here in great numbers, but this year the sparrows have discouraged all their attempts to get food. Only the other morning I witnessed a part of a battle between members of both species. I first heard them in a cherry tree, and when I saw two or three feathers fall I knew they were at it fiercely. Presently the sparrow flew up and away pursued by the irate goldfinch. While the goldfinch could probably worst the sparrow, who is always a coward