Ch 'geegee-lokh-sis. 1 4 1 



Such a bright, helpful little fellow should have 

 never an enemy in the world ; and I think he has to 

 contend against fewer than most birds. The shrike 

 is his worst enemy, the swift swoop of his cruel beak 

 being always fatal in a flock of chickadees. For- 

 tunately the shrike is rare with us ; one seldom finds 

 his nest, with poor Chickadee impaled on a sharp 

 thorn near by, surrounded by a varied lot of ugly 

 beetles. I suspect the owls sometimes hunt him at 

 night; but he sleeps in the thick pine shrubs, close 

 up against a branch, with the pine needles all about 

 him, making it very dark; and what with the darkness, 

 and the needles to stick in his eves, the o\\\ generally 

 gives up the search and hunts in more open ^\'oods. 



Sometimes the hawks try to catch him, but it takes 

 a very quick and a very small pair of wings to follow 

 Chickadee. Once I A\'as A\'atchinf>" him hancino- head 



t) 



down from an oak twis; to which the dead lea\'es were 



& 



clinging; for it was winter. Suddenly there was a 

 rush of air, a flash of mottled wings and fierce yel- 

 low eyes and cruel claws. Chickadee whisked out of 

 sight under a leaf. The hawk passed on, brushing 

 his pinions. A brown feather floated down among 

 the oak leaves. Then Chickadee was hanging head 

 down, just where he was before. " Tsic a dec ? Did n't 

 I fool him ! " he seemed to say. He had just gone 

 round his twig, and under a leaf, and back again ; and 



