_ THE TUFTED TITMOUSE. 243^ 



I don't know for the life of me what the fuss is all about, but I know 

 there is the greatest commotion going on right under my nose. On a single 

 branch of a scraggly hillside tree — said branch being horizontal, twelve feet 

 long, and fifteen feet above the ground — there were gathered at practically 

 one and the same time the following birds : Tufted Tits, three to six, Black- 

 capped Chickadees, three or four, Carolina Wrens, three. Downy Woodpeck- 

 ers, three, A\'ood Pewees, two or three, one Red-eyed Vireo, one Yellow War- 

 bler, one Phoebe, an Indigo Bunting, a Redstart, 'one ^■ery small Crested Fly- 

 catcher and several English Sparrows — some twenty or more birds of at least 

 twelve species — each \'uciferating, scolding, denouncing or at least anxiously 

 inquiring, and many, for the lack of better employment, fighting withal. It 

 only lasted half a minute after I arrived, but it was a stirring time while it 

 was on, and I am all a-tremble with excitement myself. What does it all 

 mean, anyway ? The Tufted Titmice, I think, started the hubbub ; but whether 

 one of their youngsters was choking on a June bug, or had up and slapped its 

 mother, I cannot tell." So^ runs the writer's note-book under date of June 17, 

 1902, in recording one of the most intense little episodes of bird life ever wit- 

 nessed. It was just like those Titmice, anyway — incjuisitive, irascible, hyster- 

 ical, always kicking up a shindy among the birds. In some of their antics 

 they are like spoiled children, but their very sauciness is their salvation. 



The Titmouse is the major domo of the winter bird troop. His military 

 crest marks him out for such an office, and his restless way of fussing up and' 

 down the line gives him a show of authority over the Nuthatches, Creepers, 

 Woodpeckers, Chickadees, and Cardinals, which compose that motley com- 

 pany. He is, indeed, a most important personage, in his own eyes ; but no one 

 else takes him over seriously, and his pretentions are slyly encouraged by the 

 knowing ones, as affording a prospective diversion amidst the tedium of winter. 



The Tufted Tits come of hardy stock; altho somewhat less common in 

 the northern portion of the state, there is no other evidence that they mind the 

 severity of winter. The average Titmouse family, too, approaches near the 

 proportions that our grandfathers believed in. With six or eight youngsters 

 in a brood and two broods in a season, it is a wonder that they do not overrun 

 the land. 



Nests consist of well-lined cavities like those of the Chickadee, but the 

 excavations more frequently follow natural lines ; and for the sake of getting 

 an easy start through an inconspicuous knot-hole, the birds will range up to 

 thirty or forty feet in height. Less frequently deserted Woodpeckers' nests 

 are used, and fresh holes are dug in green or rotten wood. 



The chcct'V. chcci'x call of the Titmouse is one of the most familiar sounds 

 of the woods and village groves. More loud and clear is the Peter, Peter, or 

 peto peto note of springtime. As a distinct modification of the first named 

 note there is a rare musical cho'd-y, choo-y, which has in it much of the flute- 



