Not long since I visited the deserted nest of a devoted pair of chickadees. It was cuddled down in the bottom of a hole that opened on the very top of a fence post, and, one would imagine, must have been wet more than once while inhabited. However, a large family was raised there during the past season and much enjoyment was derived from watching the many fubsy birdlings that found home and comfort in that unattractive retreat. I looked upon them with special interest, for I was sure they would visit the suet on my trees this winter and thus become friendly neighbors. As soon as the trees are bare, nail or tie bits of suet to branches which may be observed from your windows. I know of no investment which pays such enormous dividends both to pleasure and pocket as do suet restaurants in orchards patronized by chickadees. Every child, at home or school, will be attracted by this experiment. QUESTIONS ON THE CHICKADEE. 1. Describe the colors of the chickadee above; below; wings; tail; throat and head. 2. Describe the differences in coloring between the chickadee and the nuthatch. 3. What is the shape of the chickadee's beak and for what is it adapted? 4. Does it frequent the trunks of trees, or the twigs? 5. Describe its actions when hunting for food on a twig. 6. What is the chief food of the chickadee? 7. Why is it of special value to the farmer? 8. What are the differences in the winter and summer habits of the chickadee? 9. Do you know the "phoebe" note of the chickadee? 10. Where do these birds build their nests and of what material? 11. What are the colors and markings on the eggs? 12. When is the nesting season? LEAFLET XXVI. THE WHITE-BREASTED NUTHATCH.[35] BY ANNA BOTSFORD COMSTOCK. [35] Home Nature-Study Course, Vol. V, No. 4, January, 1904. The busy nuthatch climbs his tree, Around the great bole spirally, Peeping into wrinkles gray, Under ruffled lichens gay, Lazily piping one sharp note From his silver mailèd throat. --MAURICE THOMPSON. "_With more artless inquisitiveness than fear, this lively little acrobat stops his hammering or hatching at your approach, and stretching himself out from the tree until it would seem he must fall off, he peers down at you, head downward, straight into your upturned opera-glass. If there is too much snow on the upper side of a branch watch how he runs along underneath it like a fly, busily tapping the bark, or adroitly breaking the decayed bits with his bill, as he stretches for the spider's eggs, larvæ, etc., hidden there; yet somehow, between mouthfuls, managing to call out his cherry quank! quank! hank! hank!_" --NELTJE BLANCHAN. [Illustration]