The Chickadee 17 



The glade up Fulton Creek just suited the chickadees. 

 It was rarely invaded by troublesome people. Chickadee 

 likes human society when the snow comes and food grows 

 scarce in the woods, but just as soon as he falls in love and 

 his mind turns to housekeeping, he looks for a quiet nook, 



The next time I strolled up the creek, one of a newly 

 wedded pair suddenly met me just where the path branched 

 a few yards below the alder stump. I didn't see him come, 

 but he appeared right on the limbs of the maple over the 

 trail that led away from the nest. He didn't see me at 

 all! The little trickster! He was very industriously 

 pecking at nothing I could see with my field-glass. As 

 soon as I stopped, he began turning and twisting, stretch- 

 ing his neck to look under a leaf. He hung by his toes, 

 head down, and swung back up like a circus performer. 

 Then he swung head down again, dropped, and lit right 

 side up on the branch below. He made a high jump of 

 over a foot, but grabbed nothing. And such unconcern! 

 He never looked at me. I thought of the lad across the 

 street, who, by his stunts, used to coax me out of the yard 

 against orders. The little black-cap drew me now as the 

 boy did then. " You're entertaining, but not so clever as 

 you seem," I said, as I followed him off down the wrong 

 path away from his nest. 



I shall never forget the day we trudged up with the 

 camera to get a picture of the eggs. When we reached 

 the chickadee villa, the mother was at home. I knocked 

 at the base, so she would leave. Then I shook the stub, 

 but she did not take the hint. I took a little twig and 

 poked in, trying to lift her up. She met my advance with 

 a funny little sound, like a mad cat in a box. Drive her 



