acks down into his den, as I have said, in a very amusing
manner.

THE CHICKADEE

The chickadees we have always with us. They are like the evergreens
among trees and plants. Winter has no terrors for them. They are
properly wood-birds, but the groves and orchards know them also. Did
they come near my cabin for better protection, or did they chance to
find a little cavity in a tree there that suited them? Branch-builders
and ground-builders are easily accommodated, but the chickadee must find
a cavity, and a small one at that. The woodpeckers make a cavity when a
suitable trunk or branch is found, but the chickadee, with its small,
sharp beak, rarely does so; it usually smooths and deepens one already
formed. This a pair did a few yards from my cabin. The opening was into
the heart of a little sassafras, about four feet from the ground. Day
after day the birds took turns in deepening and enlarging the cavity: a
soft, gentle hammering for a few moments in the heart of the little
tree, and then the appearance of the worker at the opening, with the
chips in his, or her, beak. They changed off every little while, one
working while the other gathered food. Absolute equality of the sexes,
both in plumage and in duties, seems to prevail among these birds, as
among a few other species. During the preparations for housekeeping the
birds were hourly seen and heard, but as soon as the first egg was laid,
all this was changed. They suddenly became very shy and quiet. Had it
not been for the new egg that was added each day, one would have
concluded that they had abandoned the place. There was a precious secret
now that must be well kept. After incubation began, it was only by
watching that I could get a glimpse of one of the birds as it came
quickly to feed or to relieve the other.

One day a lot of Vassar girls came to visit me, and I led them out to
the little sassafras to see the chickadee's nest. The sitting bird kept
her place as head after head, with its nodding plumes and millinery,
appeared above the opening to her chamber, and a pair of inquisitive
eyes peered down upon her. But I saw that she was getting ready to play
her little trick to frighten them away. Presently I heard a faint
explosion at the bottom of the cavity, when the peeping girl jerked her
head quickly back, with the exclamation, "Why, it spit at me!" The trick
of the bird on such occasions is apparently to draw in its breath till
its form perceptib