You know what I like about chickadees, everything. Like when they find a food cache they start dee, dee, deeing so everybody of the feathered clan gets in on the dining action.
Not one for me, but one for all. I’ve never seen a chickadee try to scare a blue jay or nuthatch off or out of the seeds. I think chickadees didn’t flunk basic sandbox, they just play nice with others. I can’t imagine a life without the refrigerator but for those little winged birds when the feed bags on, they share.
Chickadees are pretty much your basic black and white, kinda what you see is what you get, and even though there small they hang around my home all year like me through the haze of summer or the cold of winter just toughing it out or leisurely working with very little fanfare.
It’s a, do what you need to do existence, and they don’t care who or what’s watching. I should convert my deck to a woodland church because as they sit by me in a deer stand or roadside ditch, they don’t mind at all what I’m wearing. This year deer hunting on two separate occasions I had one land on my arm. That was nothing more than one ounce of feathered fluff, but more fun than I can express.
Those little chickadees seem to probe the yard, my wool coat sleeve or the woodpile with about as much curiosity as I do. Maybe its food related in thinking I may unlock some grub or bug but they don’t worry where the ax head falls, I think they trust me.
And one of the best things about the chickadees in my yard is they always come back. If I forget to feed them or I’m gone for a few days, they don’t get there wings in an uproar. It’s just okay, the feeder is refreshed, no hard feelings, all is well, and here’s a dee- dee-dee to cheer me up. And sometimes, they cheer me up when I’m not even in a bad mood. Sunrise to sunset they just flit around the feeder and as I watch them from the kitchen I think, hey I’m in the human cage. The trout whisperer