This is another family of small birds. The nuthatches are lively, restless little creatures. You generally see them scrambling over the trunks of trees, head up or head down, as it happens. They are dressed in sober colors, and spend their lives picking tiny insects out of the crevices of the bark.

The White-breasted Nuthatch is the best known in the East. In California the slender-billed takes his place, being about the same in dress and manners. Both of them, East and West, go about calling "quank, quank." The dress is slate-blue and white, with a white breast, a black cap, and black on wings and tail.

Nuthatches nest in holes, either deserted woodpecker nests or natural holes in trees. If such a place is not to be found, the pair will sometimes dig out a home in a decayed stump for themselves.

It is wonderful to see how easily and quickly a nuthatch will run over the trunk and large branches of a tree. Woodpeckers usually go upward, and brace themselves with their stiff tails. If they want to go down, they back down rather awkwardly. Creepers, who also go over tree trunks, go up only, and they also use their stiff tails for a brace. But the nuthatch goes head up, or down, or sideways, and never uses the short, square tail in the business. He can do this because his claws are very curving, almost like hooks, and they grasp tight hold of the little rough places in the bark.

It is a funny sight to see a mother nuthatch going about with four or five hungry little ones after her, like chickens after a hen, all calling their droll little "quanks."

The nuthatch gets his name, it is said, from the habit of fixing a nut into a crack and hammering or "hacking" it till it breaks. In summer, when insects are to be had, this bird, like many others, eats nothing else, and he eats thousands of them. But he can live on other food, so he is not forced to migrate.

To provide for winter, when insects will be gone and snow cover the seeds, he lays up a store of food. He takes kernels of corn, if he can get them, or sunflower seeds, or nuts of various kinds. This keeps him very busy all the fall, and he has often been seen at the work. He will carry a nut to a tree and find a crack in the bark just big enough to hold it. He tries one after another till he finds one to fit. Then he hammers it in till it is secure, and leaves it there. Then in winter the same bird has been seen, when everything was covered with snow, to dig the hidden nuts out of their hiding-places and eat them.

Many birds who do not migrate, but live in the same place the year round, provide for winter in the same way. So do squirrels and other animals. It is pleasant to think that rough-barked trees, and knotholes, and hollows, are filled with food for the hungry birds. And if they had not that supply, they might starve, or be obliged to leave us.

The Red-breasted Nuthatch is a little smaller than the white-breasted, and has a reddish breast. His home is more toward the north, both East and West. He nests in Maine and other Northern States. His call note is different too. It sounds like the squawk of a toy trumpet. His habits are much like those of his bigger relative.

The nuthatch is fond of his mate, and takes good care of her in nesting time. He feeds her and the young till they leave the nest.

Mr. Fowler tells a story of an English nuthatch who is almost the same as one of ours. Some bird-lovers were in the habit of putting nuts on a window-sill for these birds to carry away. One day, to see what they would do, somebody put one in a glass tumbler. The birds saw the nut and tried to get it through the glass, pecking and hammering at it a long time. Finally, one got tired or discouraged and flew up to a perch over the tumbler. Then he happened to look down, and saw the nut inside the glass. Instantly he came down. He alighted on the edge of the tumbler and held on tightly, while he leaned far over inside, almost standing on his head, till he picked up the nut and carried it off.

These birds are easily made tame in winter by feeding them every day when food is hard to get; and at a time when they are forced to live on seeds and nuts, they greatly enjoy scraps of meat, and most of all, suet. Many people put out food for the birds every day in winter, in some safe place where cats cannot come. They have great pleasure in watching their little guests.

Chickadees, or Titmice, as they are named in the books, belong to another branch of this Family. There are a good many titmice in the world, seventy-five kinds or species, but we in America have only thirteen. Best known in the Eastern and Middle States is the common chickadee. In California, the mountain chickadee has habits about the same, and the Southern States have the tufted titmouse.

All these little fellows are pretty birds in gray, set off with black and white, with lovely soft and fluffy plumage.

The common Chickadee and his brother of the West have black on top of the head and on the throat, and white at the side of the head. They nest in holes in a tree or stump. If they can find the old home of a woodpecker, they are glad to get it, but if they cannot find one, they are able to cut one out for themselves, though it is a hard, long job for them.

These birds have very large families, sometimes as many as eight or nine little chickadees in one of those dark nurseries. How so many can live there it is hard to see. They must be all in a heap.

Everybody knows the common call of the chickadee,—"chick-a-dee-dee;" but he has a song, too. It is slow, sad-sounding, and of two notes, almost like the common cry of the phoebe. But you must not think they have no more than these few notes. They have odd little songs, and they make queer sounds that seem much like talking. Almost all birds have many notes and calls and little chatty noises of different sorts, besides their regular song and the common call note. To hear these, and learn to know a bird whatever he says, is one of the delights of bird study. I hope you will some day enjoy it. The Chippewa Indians named the chickadee "kitch-kitch-ga-ne-shi."

A chickadee is a friendly little fellow. Many times one has come down on to a man's hand or knee. Mr. Torrey once found a pair making their nest, and he climbed up on to a branch of the tree, close by where they were working, so as to watch them. Many birds would have been frightened to have a man so near, but not the brave little chickadees. They stared at him a little, but went right on with their building.

These birds, though so tiny, are among the most useful to us, because they spy out and destroy the insect eggs hidden in crevices of bark, or under leaves. Bigger birds might not care to pick up such small things, or their beaks might be too clumsy to get at them.

When you see a chickadee scrambling over a tree, hanging head down with all sorts of antics, he is no doubt hunting out the eggs. These eggs, if left, would hatch out into hungry insects, to eat the leaves or fruit, or to injure and perhaps kill the tree. The nuthatch clears up the trunk and large limbs, and the chickadee does the same for the small branches and around the leaves.

It has been found out that one pair of chickadees with their young will destroy five hundred pests, such as caterpillars, flies, and grubs, every day. No man could do so much, if he gave his whole time to it. Besides, he could not go over the whole tree as a bird does, without doing harm to it. A chickadee hops along the small branches and twigs, looking under every leaf, sometimes hanging head down to see the under side, and picks up every insect or egg. Among his dainties are the eggs of the leaf-rolling caterpillar, the canker-worm, and the apple-tree moth,—all very troublesome creatures.

The Tufted Titmouse is more common in the South and West than his cousin, the chickadee, and he is one of the prettiest of the family. He is dressed in soft gray, with a fine, showy, pointed crest. His ways are something like the chickadee's, but he is, perhaps, even bolder and more pert, and he is easily tamed. All his notes are loud and clear, and he is never for a moment still.

In winter, this bird is found in little flocks of a dozen or more. These are probably all of one family, the parents and their two broods of the year. He is one of the birds who stores up food for a time when food is scarce. In summer, he eats only insects.

The tufted titmouse, like others of his race, has a great deal of curiosity. I have heard of one who came into a house through an open window. It was a female titmouse in search of a good place for a nest. After she had been in all the rooms, and helped herself to whatever she found that was good to eat, she seemed to decide that it was a land of plenty and she would stay.

The stranger settled upon a hanging basket as nice to build in. The family did not disturb her, and she brought in her materials and made her nest. She had even laid two or three eggs, when the people began to take too much interest in her affairs, and the bird thought it best to move to a safer place.

Another of these birds in Ohio, looking about for something nice and soft to line her nest, pitched upon a gentleman's hair. Unfortunately, he had need of the hair himself; but the saucy little titmouse didn't mind that. She alighted on his head, seized a beakful, and then bracing herself on her stout little legs, she actually jerked out the lock, and flew away with it. So well did she like it that she came back for more. The gentleman was a bird-lover, and was pleased to give some of his hair to such a brave little creature.