384 SINGING BIRDS. 
parties, they cautiously glean a transient means of subsistence, 
and wander from place to place as the supply diminishes. At 
the welcome return, however, of the month of April, with the 
revival and renewal of its insect fare the Nuthatch becomes 
more domestic; and retiring into the forest with its mate, it 
prepares for its progeny in some hollow tree, or even in a rail 
of the neighboring fence. The male is now assiduously atten- 
tive to his sitting mate, supplying her regularly with food; on 
which occasion he affectionately calls her from the mouth of 
her dark and voluntary prison, where sometimes, in mere 
sociability, he attempts in his rude way to soothe her with his 
complaisant chatter. He is too affectionate to ramble from 
this favorite spot, where he not only accompanies his consort, 
but, sentinel-like, watches and informs her of every threaten- 
ing danger. When the pair are feeding on the trunk of the 
same tree, or near to each other in the same wood, the faithful 
male is heard perpetually calling upon his companion at short 
intervals as he circumambulates the trunk. His approach is 
announced usually at a distance by his nasal Aank hank, 
frequently repeated, as in spiral circles round the trunk of 
some tree he probes, searches, and shells off the bark in quest 
of his lurking prey of spiders, ants, insects, and their larvee in 
general. So tight and secure is his hold that he is known to 
roost indifferently with his head up or down from the tree; 
and when wounded, while any spark of life remains, his con- 
vulsive and instinctive grasp is still firmly and obstinately 
maintained. Sometimes, with a sort of complaisant curiosity, 
one of the birds, when there is a pair, will silently descend 
nearly to the foot of the tree, where the spectator happens to 
stand, stopping, head downwards, and stretching out his neck, 
as it were, to reconnoitre your appearance and motives; and 
after an interval of silence, wheeling round, he again ascends 
to his usual station, trumpeting his notes as before. He seldom 
wholly quits the forest, but when baffled by the slippery sleet 
which denies him a foothold, he is sometimes driven to the 
necessity of approaching the barnyard and stables, or the 
precincts of the dwelling, where, occasionally mixing among 
