In the last couple of weeks, entertainment duties in my backyard
venue have been taken over by my favorite bird, the Tufted Titmouse. A
troupe of these tiny, crested, gray birds gather around the feeders,
coming in from all directions, grabbing a seed, and taking off in all
directions.
There is at least one family, with at least
six members - it is hard to count because they are always on the move.
When an adult flies to the maple, or into the thicket of the lilac,
there are two or three youngsters waiting, chirping away, fluttering
their wings, and demanding food. A friend once described young Blue Jays
begging for food by saying, “Boy, I’d hate to be their parents. They
are a bunch of demanding kids.” The titmouse youngsters are no less
insistent or demanding, although a third the size of th
e Blue
Jays. They make a terrific racket as their parents retrieve food. The
racket ratchets up as the food comes near, is interrupted only for the
microsecond needed to gulp it down, and then resumes unabated
The
common presence of the Tufted Titmouse in Vermont is a recent
occurrence. When Forbush, the Massachusetts ornithologist wrote “Birds
of Massachusetts,” he included the Tufted Titmouse, but had no field
experience with the bird to draw from. Instead, he quoted the work of a
southern ornithologist on its nesting practices. The Tufted Titmouse was
a southern species, its range reaching north only to southern
Pennsylvania and New Jersey.
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Tufted Titmouse in winter |
Since 1927 when Forbush published his work
on New England birds, the Tufted Titmouse has been extending its range
northward. Vermont Christmas Bird Counts in the 1970s recorded fewer
than ten birds until late in the decade when the numbers began climbing
significantly. The first Vermont nesting record was in 1976. When the
first Vermont Breeding Bird Atlas field surveys were conducted from1977
to 1981, the Tufted Titmouse was recorded in only nine survey blocks.
Each confirmed breeding was recorded in the Atlas: nest building in Peru
in June; adults feeding young in Stowe in June; recently fledged young
in Brattleboro in July, and so on, for the eight confirmed breeding
records.
The second Vermont Breeding Bird atlas
(2003-2007) documented the dramatic expansion of the Tufted Titmouse in
the state. It was recorded in 104 priority blocks. It was scarce only in
the northeast of the state.
The Tufted Titmouse is a
member of the family “Paridae,” a group of small birds which are often
described as treetop acrobats because of the way they flit about and
clamber over twigs and branches in search of insects. Titmice are close
relatives of chickadees. For most of their taxonomic life, titmice and
chickadees have belonged to the same Genus: “Parus.” About five years
ago, the taxonomic gurus decided that titmice and chickadees were not
quite so closely related, and assigned them to new genera: “Poecile” for
chickadees, and “Baeolophus” for titmice.
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Tufted Titmouse - small bird with a crest |
On the other side of the Atlantic pond,
the relatives of these birds are known collectively as “tits,” and
include some birds which look remarkably similar to our Black-capped
Chickadee, such as the Willow Tit or the Marsh Tit. The Crested Tit has a
striking pattern to its head and crest; only the crest (as well as size
and shape) brings to mind our plain, gray Tufted Titmouse.
“Titmouse”
derives from Old Icelandic “titr” meaning something small; “mouse” is a
corruption of “mase” from the Anglo-Saxon for a kind of bird. The
plural form, “titmice,” has been influenced by the unrelated word,
“mouse.” Hence, the Tufted Titmouse is a small bird with a tuft, or
crest. And its relatives in the Old World are “Tits,” or small - the
“mase” or “mouse” having been dropped. If you ever hear a British birder
rave about all the great tits he saw, he is not being crudely sexist;
he is talking about our chickadees and titmice.
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A young Tufted Titmouse watches
a parent getting food from a suet feeder |
The Tufted Titmouse’s range expansion is
probably the result of a complex combination of habitat change,
environmental alteration, and climate warming. I worry about that in
general, but I am delighted that it is a year round resident in my
neighborhood. It will brighten even a winter day. Most birds wait until
winter is on the wane before beginning their courtship singing. Not the
titmouse. On a sunny day after a major snowstorm, you may hear his
“peer, peer, peer” piercing through the crisp atmosphere, a sound of
promise and a promise of life.
The titmouse prefers
deciduous woods, especially those of swamps and river bottoms, but has
adapted to residential woods, village shade trees, and city parks. One
summary description of the titmouse goes like this: “active, vivacious,
flits about foliage of trees, often hangs head downward while inspecting
twigs, leaves, or clings to trunk or branches, searching in bark
crevices for insect food, wanders about in winter in small flocks; tame
... intelligent, quick to learn.” (Terres)
The Tufted
Titmouse is a cavity nester, using an old woodpecker hole, natural
cavity, or occasionally a nest box. Pairs stay together all year. The
male feeds the female during courtship and while she is incubating her
5-6 eggs (or sometimes 3-9 eggs). When the eggs hatch, the female stays
with the young most of the time, while the male brings food. He often
has a “helper,” one of their offspring from a previous nesting. Families
tend to stay together through the Fall and Winter, often joining flocks
of other small birds, such as chickadees, nuthatches, and Downy
Woodpeckers.
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Young Tufted Titmouse with raised crest, a sign of alertness.
The parent’s crest (right) is down, perhaps out of parental weariness |
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The young titmice in my backyard in late
August are probably a second brood. At first, I tried to sort out the
family relationships, tried to deduce whether I had one or more
families. I gave up; I could not even figure out how many titmice there
were, they moved about so fast. What with parents, helpers from a
previous year or an earlier brood, and a half dozen ( plus or minus),
juveniles, there was more chaos and confusion than I could make order
out of. A half dozen resources, consulted after the titmice headed for
their nighttime roost, helped me understand some of what was going on.
Mostly, I just enjoyed the show.
And ... by watching, I
learn. Chickadees have now joined the backyard activity, occasionally
announcing themselves with their familiar “chick-a-dee-dee-dee” or even
an abbreviated “dee, dee, dee.” I looked more closely when I heard a
“chee, chee, chee, chee.” A titmouse seemed to be saying to its
youngsters, “Hey, gimme a break. I’m getting it as fast as I can.” He
repeated himself and another joined him at the feeder and grabbed a
seed. So maybe he was calling for help.
In late summer
and early fall, sitting out back with feet up and a cold tonic at hand,
is almost guaranteed to produce some Good Birding!