96 A BIRDS-NEST HUNTER. 



which the female (who was just inside the 

 mouth of the cavity) slipped out, and set up 

 an anxious chickadee, dee, dee. When her 

 mate appeared, which he did almost im- 

 mediately, he flew into what looked like 

 a downright paroxysm of rage, not against 

 me, but against the mother bird, shaking 

 his wings and scolding violently. I came 

 to the unhappy lady's relief as best I could 

 by dropping to the ground, and within a 

 few minutes the pair again approached the 

 stub in company ; but when the female 

 made a motion to take the food from her 

 husband's bill, as before, he pounced upon 

 her spitefully, drove her away, and dived 

 into the hole himself. Apparently he had 

 not yet forgiven what he accounted her pu- 

 sillanimous desertion of her charge. All 

 in all, the scene was a revelation to me, a 

 chickadee family quarrel being something 

 the like of which I had never dreamed of. 

 Perhaps no titmouse ever before had so 

 timorous a wife. But however that might 

 be, I sincerely hoped that they would not 

 be long in making up their difference. I 

 had enjoyed the sight of their loving inter- 

 course for so many weeks that I should have 



