. American birds, studied and photographed from life . red myway. I have never found the chickadee moody. Iveseen him when it was so cold I couldnt understand justhow he kept his tiny body warm; when it looked likeall hunting for him and no game. If he was hungry,he didnt show it. The wren goes south and lives insunshine and plenty all winter. He goes wild with de-light when he returns home in the spring. The chickadeewinters in the north. He endures the cold and hungerof the dreary months. In the spring his cheer seems justthe same. He doesnt bubble over. He takes his abun-dance in quiet and
. American birds, studied and photographed from life . red myway. I have never found the chickadee moody. Iveseen him when it was so cold I couldnt understand justhow he kept his tiny body warm; when it looked likeall hunting for him and no game. If he was hungry,he didnt show it. The wren goes south and lives insunshine and plenty all winter. He goes wild with de-light when he returns home in the spring. The chickadeewinters in the north. He endures the cold and hungerof the dreary months. In the spring his cheer seems justthe same. He doesnt bubble over. He takes his abun-dance in quiet and contentment. Chickadee never seems to have the blues, but for allhis cheer and happiness, the loneliest, saddest bird I eversaw was a chickadee who had lost his mate. It was coldand darkening. I heard the sad, drawn-out phee-bee note up the ravine. As he came nearer, it sounded like afuneral song. The bewildered little fellow was all aflut-ter and uneasy, flitting from tree to tree and calling, call-ing. I can hear the echo yet, calling for his
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