A noisy pair of wrens: he calls, she answers with that rising note I always hear as ‘Yep!’ A chickadee lands on a beam right above my head.
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A noisy pair of wrens: he calls, she answers with that rising note I always hear as ‘Yep!’ A chickadee lands on a beam right above my head.
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Tending to fall yard cleanup, I hear three imperious queries coming from somewhere above my head. Looking up I spy three chickadees, lined up like little judges in grey robes on the line above the bird feeders. Guilty as charged, I have been lax in duties, their feeders are empty.
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I’m sure they remember! And chickadees are the ultimate in avian bossiness.