Then I watched him. While his mate whisked about the top rail he
dropped to the middle one, hopped gradually to one side, then dropped
suddenly to the lowest one, half hidden by vines, and disappeared. I
turned my eyes to the nest. In a moment there he was--just a little
gray flash, appearing for an instant from behind the post, only to
disappear into the dark entrance. When he came out again I had but a
glimpse of him till he appeared on the rail near me beside his mate.

Their little ruse was now quite evident. They had come back from
gathering rabbit fur, and found me unexpectedly near their nest.
Instead of making a fuss and betraying it, as other birds might do,
they lit on the rail before me, and were as sociable as only
chickadees know how to be. While one entertained me, and kept my
attention, the other dropped to the bottom rail and stole along behind
it; then up behind the post that held their nest, and back the same
way, after leaving his material. Then he held my attention while his
mate did the same thing.

Simple as their little device was, it deceived me at first, and would
have deceived me permanently had I not known something of chickadees'
ways, and found the nest while they were away. Game birds have the
trick of decoying one away from their nest. I am not sure that all
birds do not have more or less of the same instinct; but certainly
none ever before or since used it so well with me as Ch'geegee.

For two hours or more I sat there beside the pine thicket, while the
chickadees came and went. Sometimes they approached the nest from the
other side, and I did not see them, or perhaps got only a glimpse as
they glided into their doorway. Whenever they approached from my side,