THE CHICKADEE 53 
my intentions were of the best, and promised to 
return and secure her portrait at the first oppor- 
tunity. 
Four days later I set up my camera before the 
door to the Chickadee’s dwelling, and, without at- 
tempting to conceal it, attached thread to the shutter 
and retreated in the undergrowth to a distance of 
about twenty-five feet. 
After having had most discouraging experiences 
with several birds, who had evidently regarded the 
camera as a monster of destruction, and had refused 
to return to their nests as long as the evil eye of the 
lens was on them, it was consoling to find a bird 
who had some degree of confidence in human nature 
as represented by photographic apparatus. 
It is true that the female—and throughout this 
description I assume that the bird with much-worn 
plumage was of this sex—promptly left the stub at 
my approach; but when I retired to the undergrowth 
there was no tiresome wait of hours while the bird, 
flitting from bush to bush, chirped suspiciously, but 
almost immediately she returned to her home.”” The 
camera was examined, but clearly not considered 
dangerous, its tripod sometimes serving as a step to 
the nest entrance. The click of the shutter, how- 
ever, when an exposure was made as the bird was 
about to enter its dwelling, caused some alarm, and 
she flew back to a neighboring tree, and for some 
time hopped restlessly from limb to hmb. 
The male, who had previously kept in the back- 
ground, now approached, and, as if to soothe his 
troubled mate, thoughtfully gave her a caterpillar. 
She welcomed him with a gentle, tremulous flutter- 
