THE PERCHING Birps. 37 
Probably there is no more characteristic bird of 
the winter landscape of the Northern and Middle 
States than the black-capped titmouse, or Chicka- 
dee, as it is usually called. 
As I have said of the 
nuthatches, they have 
no predilections as to 
locality, and are as 
ready to glean from trees 
about your yard as to 
hunt in the depths of 
the woods. They are 
happily constituted as 
to food, and when one 
supply fails can readily 
turn to another, and 
thrive as well on vege- 
table substances as upon 
the fat larve of in- 
sects. They are never silent. It is a matter of 
chick-a-dee-dee, or tsee-deet, or phe-bee, all the day 
long, the last of the three notes perhaps being a 
love-call. 
Yet, common as they are, they never startle you 
with some strange act that makes you wonder if birds 
are as brainy as people. They are commonplace, 
and yet have such winning ways that you never tire 
of them. Even when they have nests in the hollows 
of old trees, and are concerned about their young, 
they do not forget to be cheerful, and sing as con- 
stantly as though care was unknown. Of all our 
birds, they are the tamest, I believe. I have often 
4 
Chickadee. 
