88 EVERYDAY BIRDS 
attach to branches of trees and to the veranda 
trellis, taking pains, of course, to have them 
beyond the cat’s reach (that the birds may feed 
safely), and at the same time well disposed for 
our own convenience as spectators. For myself, 
in addition, I generally nail pieces of the bait 
upon one or two of the outer sills of my study 
windows. I like, as I sit reading or writing, to 
hear now and then a nuthatch or a chickadee 
hammering just outside the pane. Often I rise 
to have a look at the visitor. There is nothing 
but the glass between us, and I can stand near 
enough to see his beady eyes, and, so to speak, 
the expression of his face. Sometimes two birds 
are there at once, one waiting for the other. 
Sometimes they have a bit of a set-to. Then, 
certainly, they are not without facial expression. 
Once in a while, in severe weather, I have 
sprinkled crumbs (sweet or fatty crumbs are best 
—say bits of doughnut) on the inside ledge, and 
then, with the window raised a few inches, have 
awaited callers. If the weather is bad enough 
they are not long in coming. A _ chickadee 
alights on the outer sill, notices the open win- 
dow, scolds a little (the thing looks like a trap — 
at all events it is something new, and birds are 
conservative), catches sight of the crumbs (well, 
now, that’s another story), ceases his dee, dee, 
dee, and the next minute hops inside. 
