With regret for the universality of the instinct, I found that to see was to desire. I had felt exactly the same longing in regard to other birds, and had thrown many a stone in a fruitless effort to get possession of the half-mysterious wild creatures which always eluded me; but the Chickadee came within range of my bean-shooter and soon paid the penalty of misplaced confidence. The little ball of flesh and fluffy feathers was perfectly useless, so after a day or two, the length of time depending on the temperature, it was thrown away. My curiosity concerning the Chickadee being satisfied, and the bird’s tameness making it too easy a mark even for a bean-shooter, I entered on a new phase of Chickadee relations. Strangely enough, the killing of the bird seemed, from my point of view, to constitute an introduction to a creature which before I had known only imperfectly, and my acquaintance with the Chickadee may be said to have begun when I picked up the first bird that fell before my aim. However the Chickadee may have regarded my somewhat questionable manner of gaining his friendship, he has since given unmistakable evidences of his approval of my treatment of his kind. He always replies to my greeting, often coming many yards in answer to my call, and on a number of occasions he has honored me above most men by alighting on my hand. When, in more recent years, the gun which succeeded the bean-shooter was in turn replaced by a camera, I found that the Chickadee’s tameness made him a mark for my later as he had been for my earlier efforts in bird hunting. Now, however, I believe I may speak for him as well as for myself, and say that the results obtained are more satisfactory to us both. It was in Central Park, New York city, in February, 1899, that I went on one of my first Chickadee hunts with a camera. Incidentally the locality gave emphasis to the advantages of the camera over any other weapon. Imagine the surprise of the park police had I ventured on their precincts with a gun on my shoulder! But with a camera I could snap away at pleasure without any one’s being the wiser—many of my “snaps,” I confess being attended by exactly this result. At this time, through the efforts of an enthusiastic and patient bird lover, who had improved on the bird-catching legend by using nuts instead of “salt” and by substituting bill for “tail,” three Chickadees in the Ramble had become so remarkably tame that they would often flutter before one’s face and plainly give expression to their desire for food, which they took from one’s hand without the slightest evidence of fear. Sometimes they even remained to pick the nut from a shell while perched on one’s finger, anon casting questioning glances at their host; but more often they preferred a perch where they could give their entire attention to the nut which was held between their feet, and pecked at after the manner of Blue Jays. [Illustration: 24. Chickadee on ground.]