little favorite, the Black-capped Chicka- 

 dee, lively and acrobatic; now grasping 

 the tip of the outermost twig; now 

 hanging head downward, in his zeal in 

 fulfilling the mission Nature has assign- 

 ed to him. The Chickadees are content 

 to remain with us and although the 

 grove is near the southern limits of the 

 Black-cap's range, several pairs may be 

 found here most any day during the 

 year. 



The Chickadee is an excavator and 

 hews out the cavities for his nests 

 like the Woodpeckers. His bill, how- 

 ever, is not so hard as those of his 

 larger friends and he must needs find a 

 softer wood in which to ply his chisel. 

 For this reason you will find the dead 

 stumps of the wild plum trees to be his 

 favorite nesting sites. The cavities are 

 hewn out with marvelous neatness, the 

 entrance being as true a circle as could 

 be made by man with tools. Much 

 taste is exhibited in the selection of 

 nesting material, only the very softest 

 fur, hair and feathers being used. 

 When the nest is completed, the little 

 owners become almost fearless of man 

 and this sociability has endeared them 

 to bird lovers to such an extent, that 

 they are easily the favorites with the 

 majority of observers. One of my 

 Chickadee experiences will never be 

 forgotten and the memory of it is 

 sufficient to draw me to their haunts, 

 each succeeding spring, in pleasant 

 anticipation. I had found one of 

 their homes in a plum stump, and 

 to determine how far the nesting 

 had advanced, I inserted a finger in 

 the entrance. Immediately I felt a 

 succession of vigorous pecks, and upon 

 withdrawing my hand, Mrs. Chicka- 

 dee appeared. Bristling with anger 

 at being disturbed, she alighted upon 

 my wrist. With ruffled feathers she 

 slowly walked up my forearm, turning 

 her head to view me with either eye. 

 After giving me an unmistakeable scold- 

 ing, she seemed satisfied with my hum- 

 bled appearance and my promises to be 

 good, and carefully smoothing her 

 feathers, she saluted me with "chicka- 

 day, day, day," and hopped back to her 

 duty to the hidden treasures. 



This troop of Chickadees enlivening 

 the March woods reminds me of my 



little friend, and their spirited ''day, 

 day, day's," recall the fact that a month 

 later will find them busily engaged with 

 home duties. 



Two other birds are helping to swell 

 the March chorus and both are whist- 

 lers. The louder of the two musicians 

 is a Cardinal, and we look with pleasure 

 for a flash of his bright crimson coat. 

 We shortly see him (and ^o his best ad- 

 vantage) scratching in a snow bank, 

 and here Nature presents to us, her 

 strongest and most vivid color con- 

 trast. 



The other whistler, (perhaps the more 

 pleasing because of the softer tones) is 

 a Tufted Titmouse, and his "purley" 

 "purley" "purley" is heard from every 

 direction. When you find him (for he 

 is a sort of ventriloquist and hard to 

 place), you will be surprised at having 

 to credit so plain a bird with such sweet 

 liquid notes as you hear falling from his 

 throat. Two more birds end our March 

 day's Hst; the Blue Jay and the Blue- 

 bird. Both are conspicuous in the sky's 

 brightest shade of blue, but how differ- 

 ent are their natures. The former's 

 notes are loud and ringing, with defi- 

 ance and a challenge in each cry. The 

 latter's song is soft and mournful, with 

 a seeming sob in every note. The Jay, 

 though admired for beauty of form and 

 feather, is despised and shunned by 

 man and bird because of his cruel 

 nature; while the Bluebird, with gentle- 

 ness exhibited in every movement, is 

 beloved by all. 



The winter residents of the grove 

 number about twenty-five species. Of 

 these, fourteen stay throughout the 

 summer season and are therefore the 

 only true residents. The great spring 

 migration brings a procession of forty- 

 three species which spend the summer 

 months in the grove, rearing their fami- 

 lies. These we list as "summer resi- 

 dents." 



Stragglers are arriving all through 

 the month of April and not until late 

 in May does the last traveler return. 

 By the 25th of May, we may safely 

 conclude that all non-residents have 

 departed northward and any bird seen 

 after that date is almost sure to spend 

 the summer with us. 



On the first warm morning of April 



115 



