282 
The Tufted Titmouse 
The various songs of the Tufted Titmouse have been carefully de- 
scribed by Nuttall, the old ornithologist, who says that “the Peto” and 
the Carolina Wren were his “constant and amusing companions” during 
a winter spent in the solitudes of the Southern States. 
After writing that “the notes of the Peto generally partake of the 
high, echoing, clear tone of the Baltimore Bird,” Nuttall describes what 
he calls peevish notes, “uttered in anger at being approached,” answered, 
perhaps, “by some neighboring rival, against whom 
^ger and appeared levelled in taunt and ridicule, being ac- 
Ridicule -11 . nni 
companied by extravagant gestures. These notes 
were given in a low, hoarse, “harsh voice, and in a peevish tone exactly 
like that of the Jay and the Chickadee . . . day-day-day-day, and day- 
^day-day-day-dait/' sometimes becoming low and querulous. 'Tshica-dee-de 
and kai-tee-did did-dit-did were other variations. 
“Later in the season, in February,” Nuttall goes on to say, “when, in 
the lower part of Alabama, the mild influence of spring began already 
to be felt, our favorite, as he gaily pursued the busy tribe of insects, 
now his principal food, called, as he vaulted restlessly from branch to 
branch, in an echoing, rapid voice, at short intervals, peto-peto-peto-peto. 
This tender call of recognition was at length answered, and continued at 
intervals for a minute or two ; they then changed their quick call into 
a slower peto peto peto; and now the natural note passed into the plain- 
tive key, sounding like que-ah que-ah; then, in the same breath, a jarring 
note, like that of the Catbird, and, in part, like the sound made by putting 
the lower lip to the upper teeth, and calling 'tsh 'vah, ’tsh 'vah. After 
this a call of kerry-kerry-kerry-kerry struck up with an echoing sound 
... At length, more delicately than the first, in an undertone, you 
hear anew, and in a tender accent, peto peto peto peto. In the caprice 
and humor of our performer, tied by no rules but those of momentary 
feeling, the expression will perhaps change into a slow and full peet-peet- 
a-peet-a-peet, then a low and very rapid ker-ker-ker- 
Nuttall’s ker-ker-kerry, sometimes so quick as almost to re- 
interpretation semble the rattle of a watchman. At another time 
his morning song commences like the gentle whispers of an aerial spirit, 
and then becoming high and clear like the voice of the Nightingale, he 
cries keva keva keva keva; but soon falling into the querulous, the day- 
day-day-day-day-dait of the Chickadee terminates his performance. Imi- 
tative, as well as inventive,” Nuttall continues, “I have heard the Peto 
also sing something like the lively chatter of the Swallow, leta-leta-leta- 
letalit, and then vary intO' peto-peto-peto-peto extremely quick.” 
In conclusion Nuttall says that while the song of the Peto is confined 
to these “simple, playful, or pathetic calls, yet the compass of voice and 
the tone in which they are uttered, their capricious variety, and their 
general effect, at the season of the year when they are heard, are quite as 
pleasing to the contemplative observer as the more exquisite notes of 
the summer songsters of the verdant forest.” 
