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THE. CO.IB.R Volume VIII t,?a?'-June 1906 Number The Chickadee at Home BY WILLIAM L. FINLEY PHOTOGRAPHS BY HERMAN T. BOHLMAN T lie air was crisp. The snow crunched under foot. The water of Fulton Creek slid noiselessly thru the lush grasses that hung along the bank. The clump of tall firs up the hillside was roughly inked against the gray clouds. The dead hush of winter had crept up the canyon. Suddenly a sound like the tinkling of tiny bell-voices broke the stillness. Across the long white vista be- tween the pointed firs scurried a whole troupe of black-and-white fairies. I stood in the same place a little over three months later. Where I had seen a dozen fairies I now saw only two. Where the rest of the troupe had gone, I do not know. These two seemed happy by themselves. I stood there and watched one of the midgets whirl over to a nearer bnsh.. I looked around but saw nothing but the wreck of an old alder--dead, rotten, useless--broken off five feet from the ground, not even good for fire-wood, almost ready to return as earth to the ground from which it sprang--rotten, but not entirely useless. It gave me a suggestion. I have never found the chickadee moody. I've seen him when it was so cold I conld not understand just how he kept his tiny body warm, when it looked like all hunting for him and no game. If he was hungry, he didn't show it. The wren goes south and lives in sunshine and plenty all winter. lie goes wild with delight when he returns home in the spring. The chickadee winters in the north. He endures the c01d and hunger of the dreary months. In the spring, his cheer. seems just the same. He doesn't bubble over. lie takes his abundance in quiet contentment. The glade up Fulton Creek just suited the chickadees. It was rarely invaded by small boys. Chickadee likes human society when the snow comes and food grows scarce in the woods, bnt just as soon as he falls in love and his mind turns to housekeeping, he looks for a quiet nook. The next time I strolled up the creek, one of the newly wedded pair suddenly met me just where the path branched a few yards below the alder stump. didn't see him come, but he appeared right on the limb? of the maple over The subject of this sketch is the Oregon chickadee (Parus atricapill?s occldentalis).