The Chickadee 
21 
his spirits seem to go up the higher. Dangling 
like a circus acrobat on the cone of some tall 
pine tree; standing on an outstretched twig, 
then turning over and hanging with his black- 
capped head downward from the high trapeze ; 
carefully inspecting the rough bark on the twigs 
for a fat grub or a nest of insect eggs, he is con- 
stantly hunting for food and singing grace be- 
tween bites. His day, day, day, sung softly 
over and over again, seems to be his equivalent 
for Give us this day our daily bread.” 
How delightfully he and his busy friends, who 
are always within call, punctuate the snow- 
muffled, mid-winter silence with their ringing 
calls of good cheer! The orchards where chicka- 
dees, titmice, nuthatches, and kinglets have 
dined all winter, will contain few worm-eaten 
apples next season. Here is a puzzle for your 
arithmetic class: If one chickadee eats four 
hundred and forty-four eggs of the apple tree 
moth on Monday, three hundred and thirty- 
three eggs of the canker worm on Tuesday, and 
seven hundred and seventy-seven miscellaneous 
grubs, larvae, and insect eggs on Wednesday and 
Thursday, how long will it take a flock of 
twenty-two chickadees to rid an orchard of 
every unspeakable pest? One very wise and 
thrifty fruit grower I know attracts to his trees 
all the winter birds from far and near, by keep- 
ing on several shelves nailed up in his orchard, 
