i inn THREE CHICKADEE l-Rli:\ 



To walk up and down a narrow path in a city backyard, with 

 snow heaped high on cither side does not seem exhilarating, hut, 

 to be accompanied in one's walk by a link- gray friend with 

 wings, who "prints his small impress in the snow" from the pure 

 joy of living on a February day, — that is a different matter. 



One day, not a chickadee could be seen nor heard in the garden. 

 They did not even come to the window shelf at their regular 

 dinner hour. It was an anxious time for the entire family. 

 With heavy hearts we thought of alley cats and unknown dangers. 

 When the suspense had become painful, the telephone bell rang 

 and a joyful voice announced: "we have three chickadees on 

 our feeding table in the garden; they have been here all morning." 



Comforting as this message was, it was not wholly reassuring. 

 Would the chickadees desert us for new friends? Fluffy came 

 home before bedtime, her sweet trusting self, and Jimmy and 

 Sammy arrived in due season. 



Our chickadees received many calls from bird lovers, who had 

 heard of them through family friends. 



A baby girl, who delighted in coming "to see Fluffy," stood 

 silently at the window one cold day, and after watching her with 

 grave, tender eyes, she asked her aunt anxiously if she might 

 not send Fluffy a blanket from her crib. 



Once, while Fluffy was still delicate, as she was sitting on the 

 edge of her table, resting, and warming herself in the sunshine, 

 a friend called to see her. 



He seated himself quite closely to the window, and waited 

 for her to become accustomed to his presence. She had finished 

 her breakfast, and was not yet ready for a lunch. In our eagerness, 

 to have her show him some of her confiding ways, we tried to 

 l^ersuade her to take nuts from our fingers. She hopped away a 

 few inches, to one of her favorite resting places in a vine, close 

 to the wall, and looked at us with friendly, fearless eyes, but 

 refused to come on our hands or to take food. 



One of her most intimate friends leaned from the window, 

 and reaching out her hand until her finger-tips rested in the soft 

 gray down of Fluffy's breast, said to her entreatingly : Fluffy, 

 do take a nut; just one little piece. Slowly, she turned her 

 head and leaning forward she took a crumb of walnut daintily, 

 as if to give us pleasure, rather than because she wished for it. 



As Spring approached, Sammy left us. We had noticed regret- 



