IN THE FLAT-WOODS. 23 



although I now remembered that chickadees 

 were in or near the St. Augustine swamp ; 

 and what was more to the purpose, I could 

 now discern some relationship between the 

 tee-koi, tee-koo (or, as I now wrote it, see-toi, 

 see-too), and the familiar so-called phoabe 

 whistle of the black-capped titmouse. The 

 Southern bird, I am bound to acknowledge, 

 is much the more accomplished singer of the 

 two. Sometimes he repeats the second dis- 

 syllable, making six notes in all. At other 

 times he breaks out with a characteristic 

 volley of fine chickadee notes, and runs with- 

 out a break into the see-toi, see-too, with a 

 highly pleasing effect. Then if, on the top 

 of this, he doubles the see-too, we have a really 

 prolonged and elaborate musical effort, quite 

 putting into the shade our New England 

 bird's hear, hear me, sweet and welcome as 

 that always is. 



The Southern chickadee, it should be said, 

 is not to be distinguished from its Northern 

 relative in the bush, I mean except by 

 its notes. It is slightly smaller, like South- 

 ern birds in general, but is practically iden- 

 tical in plumage. Apart from its song, what 

 most impressed me was its scarcity. It was 



