Charming Chickadees

Watching some birds come and go at the feeder recently, I found myself focused for an extended period of time on a few chickadees. They, along with tufted titmice, are the most prevalent species of bird to dine on our offered sunflower seeds. Being the most common of birds, it can become easy to disregard them, allowing my attention to be drawn to those rarer species that less frequently visit the feeder.

There are two varieties of chickadee here in the eastern US: the black-capped chickadee, which lives to the north of us and the Carolina chickadee, which inhabits the southern states. It challenges the most inveterate birdwatcher to be able to distinguish between these two subspecies. The challenge is even stiffer where we live, since we occupy the borderline range between them, and the two species even interbreed around here—fostering what might be called the “Hybridized Black-capped Carolina Chickadee.” 

This cute bird is our smallest bird at the feeder—deferring to any other bird that wishes to muscle in. Only the hummingbird is smaller, and it prefers the sugar feeder. The perky and acrobatic mannerisms of the chickadee always fascinates and charms me. Interestingly, although it is the most timid bird and thus at the bottom of the avian pecking order, the chickadee is the tamest of birds around humans. If I stand still just a few feet from the feeder, one of them will soon land close to me, give me the cute eye, and proceed to choose a seed. They can even be trained to pick seeds out of the palm of your hand—something I would like to try someday.

As I was watching a couple of them the other day, it suddenly occurred to me that they looked a little like perky penguins—all decked out in their formal black-and-white attire. Their throat and the cap of their head are inky black, with a blindingly white triangular patch running from their bill, under the eye, and back to the nape of their neck. Or maybe they resemble diminutive, plump Catholic nuns. All three of these formally-attired creatures are cute (unless, of course, you were once a little kid under the eye of a stereotypical stern nun in a strict Catholic school).

 

Although some 8-10 chickadees will congregate as one happy family at our feeder during the cold months, they are in the process of pairing off and choosing nesting sites at this time of year. They will mate for life—a fact that I can't verify, because I can't tell one from the other, since male and female appear identical to me. There's a lot of jousting going on between (what I assume to be) males, as they compete for the better nesting locations. Proximity to the feeder is the most highly-valued territory.

Sometimes it's a good idea to place focused attention to the more common things in life. We can do well to remind ourselves just how special they are, which then reminds us how wonderful it all is.