Chickadee Resting in a Robin's Nest
Chickadees Resting in a Robin's Nest
On the afternoon of August 11, 1922, I arrived at a spot on the Yuba River about four miles above Cisco, Placer County, California. While making camp I noticed an abandoned nest of the Western Robin in the top of a young lodge-pole pine, about ten feet from the ground. The tree stood about thirty feet from the tent.
That evening while eating late, when all diurnal mammals and nearly all birds had retired, I heard the subdued but distinct call of the Mountain Chickadee (Penthestes gambeli) near by. On hearing the second call, I looked in that direction just in time to see the fluffy form of the bird slip into the Robin's nest. Glancing at my watch I noticed it was just three minutes past seven. I walked over and gently tugged at the tree, whereupon the bird appeared on the edge of the nest, glanced about for six or eight seconds and dropped back out of sight. The next morning I was awakened at exactly five o'clock by a chickadee singing from a branch not over four feet above my head. He continued for three or four minutes and then disappeared. Each night and morning, with one exception, this routine was repeated with mechanical regularity until I left on August 19. The exception was on the 14th. I was watching for the bird to appear, and at three minutes past seven it had not yet arrived; nor had it come at four minutes past seven; but at exactly five minutes after seven it came skipping through the branches by the usual route and quickly hopped into the nest without stopping for the usual evening song!
Each evening I aroused the bird by gently shaking the tree and each successive time it required more shaking to induce him to appear until, on the last night (August l8), I was compelled to give the tree several rather vigorous jerks before he appeared on the edge of the nest. And correspondingly, each successive time he remained in view a shorter period of time, until on the last night he merely appeared, turned about, and hopped back. The arrivals and departures were always by the same route, that is, the tree over the tent.
Frank N. Bassett
Alameda, California, January 17, 1923
