as enough of the
branch left to hold them in. While I was wondering what sort of birds
they were, the father and mother came running along a branch above, and
gave me a terrible scolding, so pretty soon I slid down and left them.
How they did squeak!" and Rap laughed at the remembrance of it.

"They have not very musical voices at best," said the Doctor; "even
their spring song is a rather husky performance."

"Isn't that a Nuthatch now?" asked Nat. "There--hanging to the end
tassel of the big spruce; and a lot more above--do come and look,
Olive."

"No, Nattie, they are the Chickadees that father said, a moment ago, you
might mistake for Nuthatches."

"Chickadee-dee-dee!" said a bird, looking at the children with one eye.

The White-breasted Nuthatch

Length about six inches.

Upper parts grayish-blue.

Top of head and back of neck black.

Some black and white marks on wings and tail.

Sides of face and whole breast white, turning rusty on belly.

Bill strong, straight, sharp-pointed, two-thirds of an inch long.

A Citizen of the eastern United States and Canada.

A Tree Trapper.

THE CHICKADEE

"I see them, I see them, _lots_ of them!" almost screamed Dodo, growing
so excited that Nat and Olive each grabbed one of her hands to keep her
from clapping them, and so driving the Chickadees away.

"I never saw a strange new bird so near by," explained Dodo, "and if my
eye was only a photograph machine I could take his picture."

[Illustration: Chickadee.]

"You can make a word-picture instead, by telling us how the bird appears
to you," said the Doctor in a low voice, "but you need not whisper, for
whispering is an unnatural use of the voice; it makes birds and other
people suspicious, and is more likely to attract attention than a quiet
low tone."

"That is what mother said when she was sick last winter and the
neighbors came in to sit with her. If they talked softly she stayed
asleep and didn't mind, but if they whispered she said she dreamed that
the room was full of geese hissing and always waked up frightened," said
Nat.

The Chickadees did not mind the conversation in the least, but kept on
flitting in and out of the spruces, swinging from the little pink buds
that would grow into cones by and by, doing a dozen pretty tricks, and
all the time calling "chickadee-dee-dee" as if they were repeating a
joke among themselves.

"They mean we shall know their name, anyway," said Nat. "Have they a