2O American Birds 



use, as they generally perched on the tripod. Then they 

 always stopped a moment at the door before entering. 

 The seven eggs had pretty well filled the nest. Now it 

 looked too full. It seemed to me that if the little chicks 

 kept on growing they would either have to be stacked up 

 one on top of the other or lodged in an upper story. 



Once the mother came with a white miller. She had 

 pulled the wings off, but even then it looked entirely too 

 big for a baby's mouth. Not a single nestling but wanted 

 to try it. When the mother left, I looked in and one little 

 fellow sat with the miller bulging out of his mouth. It 

 wouldn't go down any further, but he lay back quite happy. 

 His stomach was working at a high speed below; I saw 

 the miller slowly slipping down until the last leg went in 

 as the chick gave a big gulp. 



The day was warm. We built a little perch at the 

 front door, and set out one of the youngsters blinking 

 in the sunshine. He soon felt at home. He liked it and 

 seemed quite perked up and proud. Then we set out an- 

 other and another seven in all. It looked like a pub- 

 lic dressing-room. Think of being crowded in the tiny 

 hole of a hollow, punky stump with six brothers and 

 sisters; jammed together with your clothes all wrinkled, 

 not even room to stretch out, let alone comb and dress 

 and clean yourself properly. They gave us a real chicka- 

 dee concert, each trying to outdo the other. " Here-we- 

 are! We-are-seven ! Seven-are-we-dee-dee-dee ! " Even 

 the mother and father sounded a " Tsic-a-dee-dee " of 

 joy as they fed from the perch instead of diving down 

 into the little dungeon. 



I believe there's more family love in the chickadee 



