Compiled by Abby West
Photo by Michael O’Brien

Chickadees are one of the first birds I could semi-reliably identify from (some of) their calls. I came about this skill by repeatedly marveling at their teensy little bodies emitting such decisively loud noises. Carolina chickadees are cute, no doubt- with black caps and black bibs highly contrasted against their fuzzy white cheeks. The cutest part is arguably their overly large, rounded head perched atop their chubby little body. In more northeastern regions of the United States, they are very difficult to tell apart from their Black-capped cousins, but Central Texas is the Carolina chickadee’s far southwestern range, so we don’t have to sort that out nearly as much.

Chickadees are famously curious and highly social, foraging and chattering in scattered flocks. In his wonderful book, What It’s Like to Be a Bird, David Sibley tells us, “other songbirds understand the chickadees’ calls and will often join their groups. A migrating warbler that has just landed in an unfamiliar woodland will benefit from bumping into local chickadees. Following them as they move through the forest will be safe and lead to the best sources of food and water.” And being the friendly neighbor they are, chickadees never seem to mind this expansion, even though it likely leads to a sharing of resources. Which leads me to believe they somehow trust there is enough to go around, a trait I always admire in a creature wild or domesticated.

In colder climates however, chickadees can be somewhat of a hoarder, but a clever one. In All Creation Waits, Gayle Boss says, “inside that black skullcap his hippocampus is bulged with a precise map of his half-mile territory, an X marking each flap of tree bark or log crack where he’s stashed a seed. Since late summer his brain’s memory center has been growing, adding neurons to record the location of every single cached seed—thousands of them. As he eats them up through the rest of winter, the map and his hippocampus will shrink. Will the seed map be gone before the ice and snow?”

Here in our mild Central Texas winters, their habit of curiosity really pays off as they turn over and examine every twig and leaf, discovering and devouring dormant insects of all kinds that burrow in the duff. Spiders in particular are a real treat, providing their tiny brains with an essential nutrient, taurine. Whether stashing seeds or hunting caterpillars, it seems wherever they go, through a combination of sociability, curiosity and cleverness, chickadees have found a way to survive and thrive.

Sources:
All Creation Waits, Gayle Boss
What It’s Like to Be a Bird, David Sibley
Carolina Chickadee, Cornell Lab of Ornithology