240 A BIRD-LOVER’S APRIL. 
F 
ing her position, and doing nothing whatever 
except to preen her feathers a little. She paid 
no attention to her husband, nor did he to her. 
It was a revelation to me that a chickadee could 
possibly sit still so long. 
Eight days after this they were both at work, 
spelling each other, and then going off in com- 
pany for a brief turn at feeding. 
So far they had never manifested the least an- 
noyance at my espionage ; but the next morn- 
ing, as I stood against the tree, one of them 
seemed slightly disturbed, and flew from twig 
to twig about my head, looking at me from all 
directions with his shining black eyes. The re- 
connoissance was satisfactory, however; every- 
thing went on as before, and several times the 
chips rattled down upon my stiff Derby hat. 
The hole was getting deep, it was plain; I 
could hear the little carpenter hammering at 
the bottom, and then scrambling up the walls 
on his way out. One of the pair brought a 
black tidbit from a pine near by, and offered it 
to the other as he emerged into daylight. He 
took it from her bill, said chit, — chickadese for 
thank you, —and hastened back into the mine. 
Finally, on the 27th, after watching their op- 
erations a while from the ground, I swung my- 
self into the tree, and took a seat with them. 
To my delight, the work proceeded without 
