158 
The Bush-Tit 
Love of 
Companions 
kindnesses of our race, and not the evils. But, even if these two birds 
are much alike in character, they are different as home-builders. One 
might wonder how the Bush-tit has developed so remarkable an ability 
as a home-builder, when the Chickadee is content to dig himself a den in 
the heart of some old stump. 
The Bush-tit never seems to be moody ; perhaps he never has the blues. 
He loves company. Through a large part of Cali- 
fornia the Bush-tits forage about in flocks nearly nine 
months of the year. In Oregon and Washington they 
come in the spring, nest, and depart in the fall. A flock of Bush-tits is 
always restless. The Juncos, like the Bush-tits, stay in flocks a large 
part of the year. I often have watched them about my home. After a 
hunt for food, when their hunger is satisfied for a moment, they sit about 
in some tree resting and preening themselves, and their continual twitter- 
ing gives the impression of a real bird-concert. Bush-tits are great 
talkers. A flock forms a continually moving excursion. A few always 
take the lead, bobbing along from tree to tree, others follow rapidly, and 
when they take possession of a bush it looks as if the whole thing had 
suddenly taken wings. 
The Bush-tit has no distinctive color-marks, such as the white tail- 
feathers of the Junco ; but he has a series of call-notes that are of great 
importance in keeping each member of the flock informed as to where 
the others are. 
I stood, one day, in an alder-copse watching a flock of Bush-tits that 
was hunting through the branches. It was a family of young birds. Each 
had learned to keep up a constant tsre-e, tsre-e! tsit! tsre! as if continually 
saying something. But this gossip was not so much for the sake of con- 
versation as to keep the whole flock constantly together. While I was 
watching, three or four of the midgets were within a few feet of me. 
One of the birds in the next tree began a shrill quavering whistle, and 
instantly it was taken up by every one of the band. The two birds near 
me, and every one of the others, froze to their perches. 
Had I not known it, I couldn’t have told just whence 
A Time for 
Disappearing! 
the whistle came ; it sounded so scattering, like the 
elusive, grating call of the cicada. Then a hawk swept overhead, and 
the confusing chorus lasted as long as the hawk was in sight ; nor did 
one of the little Bush-tits seem to move a feather, but all just sat and 
trilled in perfect unison. It was an unique method of protection : the 
whole flock had learned to act as a unit. It would have been hard for 
an enemy to tell where a single bird was, the alarm-note was so deceiving, 
the birds so motionless, and their clothing harmonized so perfectly with 
the foliage. I have observed this habit several times. 
Throughout the western part of Oregon and Washington, the Bush- 
tits often nest in willows, hemlocks, or hazels, and the site selected is 
usually from six to eight feet from the ground. In California, the oaks 
are favorite nesting-places. 
The Bush-tit is a master-builder among birds, for he constructs a real 
