Al’s favorite bird? It’s the chickadee,

Al Batt, Nature's World

Published Saturday, November 28, 2009

My neighbor Crandall stops by.

“How are you doing?” I ask.

“Everything is nearly copacetic. I was reading my medical insurance policy last night and got the nastiest paper cut I’ve ever had. I wonder if that’s covered by the policy?”

“Call the company. They’ll love to hear from you. I couldn’t help notice that you’re wearing one red sock and one blue sock,” I say.

“It is a strange pair of socks. And the oddest thing is that I have another pair at home exactly like them. I’m no longer a member of the Township Band.”

“That sucks like a vacuum cleaner at a lint collection,” I interject. “What happened? Was it the socks?”

“During rehearsal, there were two band leaders, because Phil Harmonic was beside himself. I was the most talented musician in the group. That’s why they made me the cymbals player. The band was really off at practice. I tried to dumb it done for them, but they kept coming in at the wrong time and were unable to perform to the level of my cymbal clashes. Phil Harmonic had to find a scapegoat and he couldn’t dump the whole band, so he sent Sheriff Hank Uft out to my farm to get rid of me. Hank Uft threatened to arrest me.”

“What could he arrest you for?” I ask.

“He said it was a case of cymbal disobedience.”

My choice is the chickadee

I was in school the other day, working off detention hours that had managed to accumulate with interest over the years.

I was talking to a third-grade class. I like talking to kids. I can fool some of them into thinking that I’m a grown-up. They are more likely to believe my stories than say, someone like, let’s not mention any names here, let’s just call her my wife. Kids are great. I think everyone should try to be one at some point in his or her life. 

One of the boys in the class asked me what my favorite bird was. I told him that it was the black-capped chickadee. You should have seen his face. He looked like I had just told him that he’d be having spinach for dessert.

He said, “Chickadee? That’s a wimpy bird to have as a favorite.”

I knew where he was coming from, having once been a third-grader myself. My family calls the third grade the best three years of my life. He was a third-grader. That meant he liked hawks, owls, eagles, and falcons — the Terminators of the bird world. If Arnold Schwarzenegger, Bruce Willis, Russell Crowe, or Sylvester Stallone were birds, they would be raptors. I like all birds, but the chickadee is my main Avian American. Let me tell you why. Join me in my dream sequence. Some odd music will play as the picture blurs.

The thermometer in the yard near my home told me that the temperature was 20 degrees below zero.

That meant it could be any month in Minnesota. It was so cold, that the guy selling me heating oil wasn’t smiling. I wore all of the clothes I owned while I filled the bird feeders. A chickadee landed nearby and began to sing. He sang not of the miserable weather, but of the blue sky and the warm sun of tomorrow. The chickadee is the top salesman of the feathered crowd–energetic and enthusiastic. This cheerful little ball of feathers is about the size of a man’s thumb. You could mail three of them for the price of one first class stamp. The song of this small bird made me forget the cold, the snow, the ice, and the wind. OK, I didn’t forget the wind. The wind was blowing the whiskers off my face. Curious and friendly, the chickadee brightened my day, as not even the sun would have been able.

The black-capped chickadee has a black cap, a black bib, white cheeks, pale buff flanks, and a gray back. Its song is a “chick-a-dee-dee-dee” or a whistled “fee-bee.” The “fee-bee” has been described as “Love you,” “Sweetie,” or “Spring’s here.” The “Spring’s here” call is given in winter, so the bird can be overly enthusiastic. Not a bad thing. I expect to see a chickadee selling something on one of those TV shopping channels any day.

Chickadees are regular visitors to feeders. Their favorite food is the sunflower seed and they are attracted to suet. A flock of chickadees has a definite pecking order with subordinate birds waiting until the dominant birds are through eating. This hyperactive, little bird has a body temperature of 108 degrees and to maintain that temperature, the chickadee must eat like an NFL defensive tackle. The chickadee grabs a sunflower seed, flies to a tree limb, grasps the seed with a petite foot, and pecks vigorously to break the shell. It caches seeds in tree bark for consuming later. The bird is as happy eating upside down as it is dining right side up. With a little effort, many people have trained chickadees to take food from a hand.

Chickadees form small flocks in early fall. The flock circulates around its territory, feeding in productive spots, and fighting small gang wars with neighboring flocks. Birders know that other birds travel with chickadees—downy woodpeckers, tufted titmice, white-breasted nuthatches, brown creepers, kinglets, and various species of warblers. Why do these other birds like to hang with the chickadees? Is it because the chickadees have season tickets to the Vikings? Possibly, but I don’t think so. There are at least two reasons that chickadees make wonderful flying companions. Like truck drivers, the chickadees know all of the best places to eat. The second reason is that the chickadees have a great predator alarm system. The first chickadee to spot a predator gives a warning call. Something like Tonto did for The Lone Ranger all those years. It cries, “chick-a-dee-dee-dee,”--the more “dees,” the greater the threat. The flock responds to this warning by freezing in place. The other chickadees begin to utter thin notes while demonstrating a talent for ventriloquism. These disembodied calls coming from every direction tend to confuse predators. Once the intruder leaves, a chickadee sounds an “all’s well” call and the flock returns to searching for food.

Chickadees make me smile even on days when my lips are frozen shut.

  Thanks for stopping by

“Life does not have to be perfect to be wonderful.” — Annette Funicello

“The test of a first-rate intelligence is the ability to hold two opposed ideas in mind at the same time and still retain the ability to function.” — F. Scott Fitzgerald

Al Batt of Hartland is a member of the Albert Lea Audubon Society. E-mail him at SnoEowl@aol.com.

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