The BLACK-CAP TITMOUSE (_Parus atricapillus_), likewise an American
species, has the bill brownish black, the iris dark brown, and the feet
greyish blue, as are the claws. The whole upper part of the head and
hind neck are pure black, as is a large patch on the throat and fore
neck. Between these patches of black is a band of pure white, from the
base of the bill down the sides of the neck, becoming broader behind,
and encroaching on the back, which, with the wing-coverts, is ash-grey,
tinged with brown. The quills are dark greyish brown, margined with
bluish white, the secondaries being so broadly margined as to leave a
conspicuous white dash on the wing. Tail same as wings, and the feathers
similarly edged; lower parts brownish white, the sides pale yellowish
brown. Length of body, five inches and a half; length of wing, three
inches and seven-eighths. The female is similar to the male.
The opinion generally entertained concerning the extensive range of
the Black-cap Titmouse has, in all probability, arisen from its great
similarity to the species last described. In reality the Black-cap is
rarely observed further south than the middle portions of Maryland;
westward of the Alleghanies it extends as far as Kentucky in winter, but
at the approach of spring returns northward.
Hardy, smart, restless, industrious, and frugal, the Black-cap Titmouse
ranges through the forest during the summer, and retiring to its more
secluded parts, as if to ensure a greater degree of quiet, it usually
breeds there. Its numerous eggs produce a numerous progeny, and as soon
as the first brood has been reared the young range hither and thither
in a body, searching for food, while their parents, intent on rearing
another family, remain concealed and almost silent, laying their eggs
in the hole deserted by some Woodpecker, or forming one for themselves.
"As it has been my fortune," says Audubon, "to witness a pair at this
work, I will state what occurred, notwithstanding the opinion of those
who tell us that the bill of a Titmouse is 'not shaped for digging.'
While seated one morning under a crab apple-tree (very hard wood). I saw
two Black-cap Titmice fluttering about in great concern, as if anxious
to see me depart. By their manners I was induced to believe their nest
was near, and, anxious to observe their proceedings, I removed to the
distance of about twenty paces. The birds now became silent, alighted
on the apple-tree, gradually moved towards the base of one of its large
branches, and one of them disappeared, in what I then supposed to be the
hole of a small Woodpecker, but I saw it presently on the edge with a
small chip in its bill, and again cautiously approached the tree. When
three or four yards off I distinctly heard the peckings or tappings of
the industrious worker within, and saw it come to the mouth of the hole
and return many times in succession in the course of half an hour, after
which I got up and examined the mansion. The hole was about three inches
deep, and dug obliquely downward from the aperture, which was just large
enough to admit the bird. I had observed both sexes at this labour, and
left the spot perfectly satisfied as to their power of boring a nest for
themselves."
"The Black-cap Titmouse, or Chickadee, as it is generally named in our
Eastern States, though exceedingly shy in summer, or during the breeding
season, becomes quite familiar in winter, although it never ventures
to enter the habitations of man; but in the most boisterous weather
requiring neither food nor shelter there, it may be seen amidst the
snow, in the rugged paths of the cheerless woods, where it welcomes
the traveller or woodcutter with a confidence and cheerfulness far
surpassing the well-known familiarity of the Robin Redbreast of Europe.
Often, on such occasions, should you offer it, no matter how small
a portion of your fare, it alights without hesitation, and devours
it without manifesting any apprehension. The sound of an axe in the
woods is sufficient to bring forth several of these busy creatures,
and, having discovered the woodman, they seem to find pleasure in his
company. If, as is usually the case, he is provided with a dinner,
the Chickadee at once evinces its anxiety to partake of it, and loses
no opportunity of accomplishing its object, although it sets about it
with much circumspection, as if afraid of being detected and brought to
punishment." "A woodcutter in Maine assured me," continues Audubon, "that
one day he happened to be at work, and had scarcely hung up his basket of
provisions, when it was observed by a flock of these birds, which, having
gathered into it at once, attacked a piece of cold beef; but, after each
peck, he saw their heads raised above the edge, as if to guard against
the least appearance of danger. After picking until they were tired or
satisfied, they left the basket, and perched directly over his fire, but
out of the direction of the smoke. There they sat enjoying themselves,
and ruffling their feathers, to allow the warmth more easy access to
their skin, until he began his dinner, when they alighted near him, and,
in the most plaintive tones, seemed to solicit a portion."
"Often," continues our author, "have I watched the busy Chickadees as
they proceeded from tree to tree and from branch to branch, whether by
the roadside or in the interior of the forest. The light rustling sound
of their concave wings would intimate their approach as well as their
retreat, as gaily one after another they passed onwards from one spot to
another, chattering, peeping everywhere, and determined as it were not
to suffer a chink to pass without inspection. Now hanging back downwards
at the extremity of a twig, its feet almost up to its bill, one would
peck at a berry or a seed, until it had devoured it, or it had fallen to
the ground. Should the latter be the case, the busy bird would at once
fly down and hammer at the fruit. To the Black-cap Titmouse the breaking
of a hazel-nut is quite a pleasure, and I have repeatedly seen the feat
accomplished, not only by a bird in its natural state, but by one kept
in confinement. Courageous, and at times exceedingly tyrannical, it will
attack young birds, break their skulls, and feed upon their flesh, as I
have more than once witnessed.
"The Chickadee feeds on insects, their larvæ and eggs, as well as on
every sort of small fruit or berries, including grapes, acorns, and the
seeds of various pines. I have seen it eat the seeds of the sunflower,
the pokeberry and pears, as well as flesh of all kinds. Indeed, it may
truly be called omnivorous. Often you may see them perched, as it were,
upon their food, and holding it beneath their feet while pecking it.
"The nest of this species, whether it be placed in the hole of a
Woodpecker or Squirrel, or in a place dug by itself, is seldom found at a
height exceeding ten feet. Most of those which I have seen were in low,
broken, or hollowed stumps, a few feet high. The materials of which it
is composed vary in different districts, but are generally the hair of
quadrupeds in considerable quantity, and disposed in the shape of a loose
bag or purse, as in most other species which do not hang their nests
outside." The eggs rarely exceed eight in number; they are five-eighths
of an inch long by three-eighths and three-quarters, rather pointed at
the smaller end with minute reddish dots and markings. The first brood
are laid from the middle of April to that of May, the second two months
later. "The flight of this species," says Audubon, "like that of all
American Titmice, is short, fluttering generally from tree to tree, and
is accompanied with a murmuring sound, produced by the concavity of the
wings. It is seldom seen on the ground, unless when it has followed a
fruit that has fallen, or when searching for materials for its nest. It
usually roosts in its nest during winter, and in summer amid the close
foliage of firs or evergreens. In winter indeed, as well as in autumn,
it is seen near the farmhouses, and even in villages and towns, busily
seeking for food among the trees."
"On seeing a cat, or other object of natural antipathy," says Mr.
Nuttall, "the Chickadee, like the peevish Jay, scolds in a loud, angry,
and hoarse note, ''tshe! daigh, daigh, daigh!' Among the other notes
of this species I have heard a call like ''tshe-de-jay! 'tshe-de-jay!'
the two first syllables being a feeble chirp, with the _jay_ strongly
pronounced. The only note of this bird which can be called a song, is
one which is frequently heard at intervals in the depths of the forest
at times of day usually when all other birds are silent. We may then
sometimes hear, in the midst of this solitude, two feeble, drawling,
clearly whistled and rather melancholy notes, like 'Te dizzy!' and
sometimes 'Ye perrit!' and occasionally, but rarely, in the same wiry,
whistling, solemn tone, 'Phebe!' On fine days, about the commencement
of October, I have heard the Chickadee sometimes for half an hour at a
time, attempt a lively petulant warble, very different from his ordinary
note. On these occasions he appears to flirt about, still hunting for his
prey, in an ecstasy of delight and vigour. But, after awhile, the usual
drawling note again occurs."