Sparrows

A sparrow flew across my line of sight. In its beak, a slice of bread bigger than it's entire body. Its flight was significantly impeded; it flew in dogged dips and swoops. Then it dropped the bread. It turned back but alas, much too late; another sparrow had already reached the bread. The first sparrow managed to grab it back at the last moment, breaking it in half. Then it flew away, much more competently, with a more reasonably-sized slice.

I wondered if sparrows knew how to share. Or if they could learn. Surely the first sparrow would learn from his experience? Or if, instead they were doomed to a 'dog-eat-dog' mentality that meant they would always try to take everything all for themselves, and often be left with nothing.
Silly sparrows.