Wilson and others have spoken of this species as being addicted to moving in the company of our smaller Woodpeckers and Brown Creepers, and this in such a way as to induce most readers to believe the act to be customary; but I have often found groups of them, at times composed of more than a dozen, without any such companions, and I should be more inclined to think that the Downy Woodpecker, and the Brown Creeper, seek the company of the Titmice, rather than that the latter associate with them. Often indeed have I watched the busy Chickadees, as they proceeded from tree to tree, and from branch to branch, whether by the road-side or in the interior of the forest, when no other birds were with them. 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 downward, at the extremity of a twig, its feet almost up to its bill, it 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. In this habit they resemble the Jays, but in every other they differ entirely from those birds, although the Prince of Musignano has thought fit to assimilate the two groups. 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 them eat the seeds of the sunflower, the poke-berry, and pears, as well as flesh of all kinds. Indeed it may be truly called omnivorous. Often, like Jays, you may see them perched as it were upon their food, and holding it beneath their feet while pecking at it; but no Jays are seen to hang head downwards at the end of a branch.
My friend Thomas M’Culloch, Esq. of Pictou, in Nova Scotia, has favoured me with the following interesting remarks having reference to this species. “Sometimes I have been inclined to think, that the sight of this bird is comparatively imperfect, and that it is chiefly indebted to some of the other senses for its success in obtaining subsistence. This idea may not be correct, but it seems to derive some support from the little incident which I am about to mention. While standing at the edge of a patch of newly-felled wood, over which the fire had recently passed, and left every thing black in its course, I observed a small flock of these birds coming from the opposite side of the clearing. Being dressed in black and aware of their familiarity, I stood perfectly motionless, for the purpose of ascertaining how near they would approach. Stealing from branch to branch, and peering for food among the crevices of the prostrate trunks, as they passed along, onward they came until the foremost settled upon a small twig a few feet from the spot upon which I stood. After looking about for a short time it flew and alighted just below the lock of a double-barrelled gun which I held in a slanting direction below my arm. Being unable however to obtain a hold, it slided down to the middle of the piece, and then flew away, jerking its tail, and apparently quite unconscious of having been so near the deadly weapon. In this country these birds seem to be influenced by a modification of that feeling by which so many others are induced to congregate at the close of autumn and seek a more congenial clime. At that period they collect in large flocks and exhibit all the hurry and bustle of travellers, who are bent upon a distant journey. If these flocks do not migrate, their union is soon destroyed, for when the Black-cap Titmice again appear, it is in small flocks; their former restlessness is gone, and they now exhibit their wonted care and deliberation in searching for food.”
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 only a few feet high. The materials of which it is composed vary in different districts, but are generally the hair of quadrupeds, in a 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. Some persons have said that they lay their eggs on the bare wood, or on the chips left by Woodpeckers; but this is not the case, in so far as I have examined them; and in this my observations are confirmed by those of Dr Brewer of Boston and Mr M’Culloch of Pictou, who also have inspected nests of this species. The eggs rarely exceed eight in number; they measure five-eighths of an inch in length, by three-eighths and three-quarters, are rather pointed at the smaller end, white, slightly sprinkled with minute dots and markings of light reddish. Those of the first brood are deposited from the middle of April to that of May; for the second about two months later. The parents I have thought generally move along with the young of the second brood.
Dr Brewer says, “on the 20th of June, I found in a single Titmouse’s hole a mass of the hair of the Common Skunk and moss large enough to weigh two or more ounces, and sufficient to construct a nest for some of our larger birds, such for instance as Wilson’s Thrush.”
Mr M’Culloch found a nest of this bird placed about two feet from the ground in a small stump, which seemed to have been excavated by the birds themselves. It contained six young, and was lined entirely with the hair which cattle, in rubbing themselves, had left upon the stump.
The flight of this species, like that of all our American Titmice, is short, fluttering, generally only 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 often in autumn, it is seen near the farm-houses, 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, dáigh dáigh dáigh. 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 slender chirp, with the jay strongly pronounced. The only note of this bird which may 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 then may sometimes hear in the midst of this solitude two feeble, drawling, clearly whistled, and rather melancholy notes like ’te-dĕrry, and sometimes ye-pĕrrit, and occasionally, but more rarely in the same wiry, whistling, solemn tone, ’phēbé. The young in winter also sometimes drawl out these contemplative strains. In all cases the first syllable is very high and clear, the second word drops low, and ends like a feeble plaint. This is nearly all the quaint song ever attempted by the Chickadee. 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 notes. On these occasions he appears to flirt about, still hunting for his prey, in an ecstacy of delight and vigour. But after a while the usual drawling note again occurs. These birds, like many others, are very subject to the attacks of vermin, and they accumulate in great numbers around that part of the head and front which is least accessible to their foot.”
Parus atricapillus, Linn. Syst. Nat. vol. i. p. 341.
Parus atricapillus, Lath. Ind. Ornith. vol. ii. p. 566.
Black-capt Titmouse, Parus atricapillus, Wils. Amer. Ornith. vol. i. p. 134, pl. 8, fig. 4.