How often, on still, sultry nights in July, when scarcely a breath of air is stirring among the foliage of the trees, when the humming of the Moth might be plainly heard, as it glided by my open window, have I been charmed with the voice of this little bird, uttered in a low, trilled note, from the branch of some neighboring tree! He seems to be the sentinel whom Nature has appointed to watch for the first gleam of dawn, which he always faithfully announces before any other bird has begun to stir. Two or three strains from his octave pipe are the signal for a general awakening of the birds, and one by one they join the song, until the whole air resounds with an harmonious medley of voices. The Hair-Bird has a singular habit of sitting upon the ground, while chirping in the early morning. His nest is placed commonly upon an apple-tree, sometimes in a bush, but never on the ground. It is very neatly constructed of the fibres of roots closely woven together, and beautifully lined with fine soft hair, whence he has obtained his name. It is not surpassed in neatness and beauty by the nest of any other bird.
I will leave the granivorous birds to speak of another class, equally hardy, but of habits more like those of the Woodpecker. I allude to the Chicadees, to whose lively notes we are indebted for a great part of the cheerfulness of a winter's walk. These notes are not a song; but there is a liveliness in their sound, most frequently uttered during a pleasant winter-day, causing them to be associated with these agreeable changes in the weather. The Chicadees are not seen, like Snow-Birds, most numerous during a snow-storm, or after a fall of snow. Their habits are nearly the same in all weathers, except that they are more prone to be noisy and loquacious on pleasant, sunny days.
The sounds from which the Chicadee has derived his name appear to be his call-notes, like the crowing of a Cock or the gobbling of a Turkey, and are probably designed by Nature to enable the birds, while scattered singly over the forest, to signalize their presence to others of the same species. Hence it may be observed, that, when the call is rapidly repeated, a multitude of his kindred will immediately assemble around the one that gave the alarm. When no alarm is intended to be given, the bird utters these notes but seldom, and only as he passes from one tree to another. He is probably accustomed to hearing a response, and, if one is not soon heard, he will repeat his call until it is answered; for as these birds do not forage the woods in flocks, this continual hailing is carried on between them to satisfy their desire for each other's company. A similar conversation passes between the individuals of a flock of Chickens, when scattered over a farmyard; one, on finding itself alone, will chirp until it hears a response, when it seems immediately satisfied. The call-notes of the Chicadee are very lively, with a mixture of querulousness in their tone, that renders them the more pleasing.
The Chicadee is the smallest of the birds that remain with us during the winter. He is a permanent resident, and everybody knows him. He is a lively chatterer and an agreeable companion; and as he never tarries long in one place, he does not tire one with his garrulity. He is our attendant in all our pleasant winter-walks, in the orchard or the wood, in the garden or by the rustic wayside. We have seen him, on still winter-days, flitting from tree to tree, with the liveliest motions and in the most engaging attitudes, examining every twig and branch, and winding over and under and in and out among them, and, after a few lively notes, hopping to another tree to pass through the same manoeuvres. Even those who are confined to the house are not excluded from a sight of these birds; one cannot open a window, on a bright winter's morning, without a greeting from one of them on the nearest tree.
Beside the note from which the Chicadee derives his name, he sometimes utters two very plaintive notes, which are separated by a regular musical interval, making a fourth on the descending scale. They slightly resemble those of the Pewee, and are often supposed to come from some other bird, so different are they from the common note of the Chicadee. I have not been able to ascertain the circumstances under which the bird repeats this plaintive strain, but it is uttered both in summer and winter. Indeed, there is such a variety in the notes uttered at different times by this bird, that, if they were repeated in uninterrupted succession, they would form one of the most agreeable of woodland melodies.
The Chicadee is not a singing-bird. He utters his usual notes at all times of the year; but in the early part of summer he is addicted to a very low but pleasant kind of warbling, considerably varied, and wanting only more loudness and precision to entitle him to a rank with the singing-birds. This warbling does not seem intended to cheer his partner, but it is rather a sort of soliloquizing for his own amusement. If it was uttered by the young birds only, we might suppose them to be taking lessons in music, and that this was a specimen of their first attempts. I have often heard the Golden Robin warbling in a similar manner.
In company with the Chicadees in their foraging excursions, we often see two Speckled Woodpeckers, differing apparently only in size, each having a sort of red crest. The smaller of the two (Picus pubescens) is the Downy Woodpecker. The birds of this species are called "Sap-Suckers," from their habit of making perforations in the sound branches of trees through the bark without penetrating the wood, as if they designed only to obtain the sap. These perforations are often made in a circle round the branch, and it is highly probable that they follow the path of a grub that is concealed underneath the bark. Our farmers, who suspect every bird of some mischievous designs, accuse them of boring into the tree for the purpose of drinking the sap.
The Woodpecker is a more restless, though not a more industrious bird than the Chicadee, and seldom gives the branches so thorough an examination as the latter. He searches for grubs that are concealed in the wood of the tree; he examines those spots only where he hears their scratchings, bores the wood to obtain them, and then flies off. But the Chicadee looks for insects on or near the surface, and does not confine his search to trees. He examines fences, the under part of the eaves of houses, and the woodpile, and destroys, in the course of his foraging, many an embryo moth and butterfly which would otherwise become the parent of noxious larvae. The Woodpecker is often represented as the emblem of industry; but the Chicadee is more truly emblematical of this virtue, and the Woodpecker of perseverance, as he never tires when drilling into the wood of a tree in quest of his prey.
Another of the companions of the Chicadee is the Brown Creeper, (Certhia familiaris,) of similar habits, and commonly seen moving in a spiral direction around the trunks and branches of trees, and, when he is conscious of being observed, keeping on the further side of the branch. He is more frequently seen in the winter than in the summer, when he confines himself to the seclusion of the pine forest. The different birds which I have named, as companions of the Chicadee, often assemble by seeming accident in large numbers upon one tree, and meeting with more company than is agreeable to them, they will often on these occasions make the wood resound with their noisy disputes. They may have been assembled by some accidental note of alarm, and on finding no particular cause for it, they raise a shout that reminds one of the extraordinary vociferation with which young men and boys conclude a false alarm of fire in the early part of the night. These different birds, though evidently social, are not gregarious, and seldom, without vexation, endure the presence of more than two or three companions.
The Nut-Hatch (Sitta Caroliniensis) is often found among these assemblages, and may be recognized by his piercing trumpet-like note. This bird resembles the Woodpeckers in the shape of the bill, but has only one hinder toe, instead of two; and is said to have derived its name from a habit of breaking open or hatching nuts, to obtain the kernel. He is a permanent inhabitant of the cold parts of the American continent, resembling the Titmouse in his diligence and activity, and in the various manoeuvres he performs while in quest of his insect-food.