220 
A Basket of Chips. 
may often be heard from the trees 
through which he is passing. This note, 
which is much higher than his chick note, 
he commonly uses as a preface to the 
clear notes of his song. lie is also fond 
of introducing his dee note into his songs, 
giving an effect somewhat suggestive of 
the vocal efforts of the red-winged black¬ 
bird. Only last Christmas eve I heard 
this incongruous mixture as a chickadee 
flitted over a partly frozen stream. I also 
heard from the same bird a very clear, 
pretty song consisting of treble B flat, 
a second B flat an octave higher (the 
kinglet note), and treble G. This song 
8va. loco. 
-7 
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^^—1 
really has no more place in the present 
article than a flower would have had in 
the basket of Christmas greens I was 
gathering at the time; still, had I met 
with a flower during my quest it would 
probably have gone into my basket. 
Our bright little friend with attractive 
garb and unfailing good spirits is a so¬ 
ciable youngster, fearless of man, and on 
excellent terms with his avian neighbors, 
through constant association with which 
he has become a very good linguist, and 
so is able to express himself to several 
of his associates in their own languages. 
Sometimes he utters a quacking chip like 
that of the English sparrow; certain of 
his notes suggest a speaking acquain¬ 
tance with the house wren; and very fre¬ 
quently he may be heard reproducing 
the phcebe’s song, though without the 
phoebe’s silvery quality of voice. Anent 
the last a word of explanation is nec¬ 
essary. When Thoreau wrote of the 
“ phcebe note ” of the chickadee he prob¬ 
ably had in mind the two long, clear 
whistles often uttered by the Northern 
chickadee; and these two tones have 
been referred to by other writers since 
as the phcebe note of the chickadee. 
But the chickadee of the South has an¬ 
other utterance, one of his various calls 
— not a song — in which he imitates 
almost perfectly, though with coarser, 
harsher tone, the phoe - he' which an¬ 
nounces the spring arrival of the earli¬ 
est flycatcher. This is more properly 
entitled to be called his phcebe note. 
Sometimes he mixes this with his chick- 
a-dee, producing a combination somewhat 
like chick-er-a-be'. 
I cannot interpret these varied frag¬ 
ments of sounds other than as notes of 
content, sociable chattering, or semi-con¬ 
scious utterances of habit, with a sec¬ 
ondary object — or maybe it is primary 
— of serving to keep united the jolly lit¬ 
tle bands that go a-roving through the 
woods. That none are expressive of dis¬ 
agreeable emotions I am confident; for 
never have I seen the chickadee disturbed 
by fear or anger. 
The tufted titmouse, in passing like the 
chickadee through the woods in a forag¬ 
ing band, makes his presence manifest 
by notes that are very suggestive of the 
chick-a-dee of his cousin, — that is, when 
the band is in a noisy mood, for fre¬ 
quently only the first of the dual notes 
is heard. The full utterance usually con¬ 
sists of a high note, followed by sever¬ 
al slightly upward gliding chest notes, 
bringing to mind a brood of young pigs. 
A lively crew it is that goes by, — flit¬ 
ting from tree to tree by a route laid out 
by some avian geographer or surveyor. 
Each voyager hastily snatches a bit from 
a limb, and hurries on with it to join his 
companions, fearful lest the strenuous 
pace (quite as needless in their case as in 
that of humanity) should cause it to be 
left behind, should it linger to select or 
enjoy a choice morsel; and each, all the 
while, calls to his mates his tse-day-day- 
day. As they pass they fill the trees 
before us with life, and for some distance 
the stir of their presence is yet to be per¬ 
ceived. When, however, as often oc¬ 
curs, the chest notes are omitted, there is 
merely an unobtrusive sound of icy tin¬ 
kles, as though a few minute icicles were 
suspended and lightly clinked together. 
