Uncategorized

The Oldest Chickadee on Earth

44 Comments

I had the pleasure of talking with ornithologist Michael North on KFAI the other day. He bands birds in Cass County in Northern Minnesota, and on December 9th he captured a black-capped chickadee he has seen before – nine years ago to be exact. The first time he saw it, Michael determined the bird’s age to be about two years, based on the shape of the tail feathers. He says after a year in the world, the tail feathers of a chickadee go from sharp-edged to rounded. I think life does that to all of us.

Not THE bird, but one very much like it.

It is unusual for a chickadee to live so long, and Michael North determined that this particular bird was the oldest chickadee on record at 11 years, 6 months. You can hear our interview here, along with a song made up just for the occasion by the stellar and chickadee-friendly artist Claudia Schmidt.

We don’t often think of a chickadee’s small life as having an arc, but imagine what that bird has been through, somehow surviving through all the hazards of life in Northern Minnesota for well over a decade. Not to mention making it through 11 winters without a snowmobile suit or alcohol to assist. We don’t know how much longer this bird will survive, but at the moment it is the Oldest Living Chickadee on Earth. That is quite an achievement. I can only guess what trials have been met and what calamities have been surmounted. I suppose there was a hungry cat somewhere along the way, and a sharp-eyed hawk. But so far, none of the normal things that can do in a chickadee have done a thing to this one.

What might be in the autobiography of the Oldest Chickadee on Earth?

44 thoughts on “The Oldest Chickadee on Earth”

  1. I assume that the chickadee was female. We lost a male cardinal when he saw his reflection in our window and flew into the window in a rage. We testosterone- laden males tend to flame out a lot sooner than our mates.

    Like

    Reply

    2. welcome amos. one testerone laden male to another. you stop in every now and again. how about a detail or two? where are you from? are you a regular lurker or do you just stop in on occassion? i forget there are options like that out there. i feel like we are in our own tiny little blog land here. it is possbilbe that there are otheres out there keeping an eye on us orm time to time.
      welcome regardless

      Like

      Reply

  2. As a child I knew chickadees well, but not well enough to tell them apart. I always wondered how long they would live. After we cut up a beef, my parents would set aside the suet to feed the chickadees, most of which we set on the higher windowsills of the workshop and barn. the suet would last through much of the winter. It was a delight.
    Also, there was a high bluff above two sides of our house, part of the Sawtooth Mountains west of Two Harbors. I would often go up on the rock outcroppings with young balsams growing on and around them. There I would lay suet on the snow in front of me under the balsams smelling of their sap and wait for the birds to trust me enough to come get it. At 20 below it took only a a few seconds.
    We spent this time of year cutting firewood in the deeper woods, such as on our back forty. My father would often pack along some suet to place on limbs. Then as we ate lunch we would sit under those limbs with the chickadees flitting around us. He would hold out suet to get them to land on his hand.
    “Chickadee-dee-dee-dee is the sound of cold.

    Like

    Reply

    2. Beautiful imagery, Mr. B. My dad would often take one of us to cut boughs for Christmas wreaths, and it was a side of him you didn’t see the rest of the year. We’d go deep into the woods, cut the boughs, and then at some point he’d say, “Listen!” and he would identify the birds for us. Great memories of the north woods in wintertime.

      Like

      Reply

      2. I used to go on nature walks with my very good friend, the naturalist at Gooseberry. People on the walk would hear a bird call, and if it wasn’t a chickadee or maybe a couple of other birds, he would answer “Confusing Fall Warbler.”

        Like

        Reply

  3. I think of chickadees as really gregarious, pugnacious little birds, always in on the action, always commenting-sort of like commodity traders or people who work on the floor at the New York Stock exchange. I think the oldest chickadee would regale us with stories of daring thefts, how she muscled in on the feeders and chased all the sparrows away, thrilling escapes from hawks, that sort of think. We have quite a few chickadees at our feeders and they are a delight to watch.

    Like

    Reply

  4. Autobiography of a Chickadee

    Gottagetoutpeckpeckpeck-a-dee-dee-dee
    Feedmefeedmefeedme-a-dee-dee-dee
    Flitflitflitfromtreetotreetotree-a-dee-dee-dee
    Wherearetheotherstobewithme-a-dee-dee-dee
    Pryseedsfromtheconetofeedjustme-a-dee-dee-dee
    Fluffupmyfeatherstomakemeasbigascanbe-a-dee-dee-dee
    Dartintobranchestohidehideohmyohme-a-dee-dee-dee
    Dontgeteatenbythehawkorcatorwhocometomytree-a-dee-dee-dee
    Itswarmerwarmerandwhoishse-a-dee-dee-dee
    Mossandstrawandfeathersanestitistobe-a-dee-dee-dee
    Feedthemfedthemfedthemohwoeisme-a-dee-dee-dee
    Flitflitflitabigbrightworldtosee-a-dee-dee-dee
    Suetinfeedersmakenosenstome-a-dee-dee-dee
    Butitsfoodforthetakingandfree-a-dee-dee-dee
    Lotsofdumbpeoplewatchingjustlittleoldme-a-dee-dee-dee
    Whatisthatshadowfallingonme-a

    Like

    Reply

  5. Someone told me the number of syllables in a chickadee’s song is a threat level indicator. If a person walks by, you might hear “chickadee-dee-dee”, but a dangerous predator like a hawk or an owl will be announced with more syllables, “chickadee-dee-dee-dee-dee-dee”.

    Like

    Reply

  7. “I wish I could tell you how difficult it is to get a good meal here! Just when you think you have a decent provider, she skips a day and doesn’t bring out my favorite seed. I have to go next door to check out what they’ve got (at least a 90 foot trip one way); if they’ve got nothing better, I have to try the thistle feeder, and you know how hard it is to get those little seeds out of those tiny openings. Sometimes I venture to the suet feeders, but the big bully cardinals and woodpeckers could be here any minute, and then I have to watch my step. I’ll just go wait in the evergreen up here and watch till it’s thinned out a bit…”

    Like

    Reply

  8. “I know where the best feeders are, with fresh seeds, butcher shop suet, nearby brushy trees, and shelter from the wind. I know where and I’m staying there! Chick-a-dee-dee-dee!”

    Wonderful story, Dale. Chickadees are my favorite little birds. They’re friendly and cheerful, determined and brave. I love to see them sitting on the deck rail in the sun on a cold winter day, fluffed up like a tiny, soft ball of feathers.

    Today, a sharp-shinned hawk flew low and inside the overhanging branches of the oak tree immediately outside my window. My sheltered and well-fed birds scattered like leaves in the wind. I’ve had lots of birds hanging around my feeders this year and sharp-shinned hawks aren’t unusual. One visited often last winter. This one missed its target though, and perched in a small ash tree a little way down the hill from the feeders. It sat there and preened awhile, waiting for the feeder birds to return. The little birds are wily though, they have to be, to survive 11 years. They returned about an hour later when the hawk was long gone. I’m sure it will be back. I’m glad I know what to expect from it – I’ll be sad, but not horrified when the inevitable happens. Sometimes I’m not sure that I’m doing the right thing by feeding the birds, but they are wonderful little companions and I’d miss their cheerful squabbles.

    Like

    Reply

    2. We had a sharp-Shinned hawk make an unsuccessful attempt at our feeders, and it just sat there on a branch for a long time, I think trying to regain some dignity for the embarrassment of failure. It gave me enough time to identity it in our bird book.

      Like

      Reply

  9. chick a dee autobiography

    you know its not real complicated being a chick a dee.
    we dont think about it too much. we are brought into the world with all the tools we need to survive and all we have to do is our best and go with the instincts god gave us. to eat and drink and sleep and enjoy the day on days that are to be enjoyed, to survive the day on days that are to be survived, to focus on the moment and do what the moment calls for and to keep it up every day until it cant be kept up with any longer. long days short days long nights short nights hot days cold days wet days dry days still days windy days days in the sun and days in the overcast sky. there is no good day or bad day just today and today is the one i have to deal with. why on earth would i want to recall that day from the past or wish for that day in the future. i am here for the moment and when this moment is over i am here for the next one. one day i eat insects and seeds the next day it is seeds and suet then insects again. take care of what needs taking care of. very simple straight forward aproach is the only way that makes sense to me.i pine branch for protection, a bit of this and a bit of that will be all anyone needs. i see other approaches to life out there but i like the one god gave me and i am not so much happy to be here as aware i am here and focused enough to do the best job of being a chick a dee that i can be. thanks for the opportunity to reflect for a moment… i don’t get that request often and as a result i don’t bother to think about it. i just exist.

    Like

    Reply

  10. What? Whaddya kids want? Get off my lawn…ya wanna know about what life was life back in the oughts? It was not the land of milk and honey believe you me. It’s a bird-eat-bird world out there. You find your bird feeder, you stick to it. If a hawk comes, you lay low until he’s gone. Puff up in the cold, find some suet. You kids these days, you got it soft with your new fangled iNests and remote bird feeders. You’re all soft, that’s what you are. You wouldn’t know a good suet ball if your GPS lead you to it and it bit you. Next you’ll be wearing Uggs and sipping thistle lattes at the corner pine tree. Bah. You give me a pain. You wanna know how I lived this long? I just did. That’s it. Now get off my lawn.

    Like

    Reply

  11. We have chickadees that come to our feeder and I am very glad to see them. I didn’t see any chickadees when I first started putting out seed for birds in Clarks Grove. I think that there might not have been enough trees and brush and other cover for them when we first moved here. During the summer I only see one pair as far as I can tell. In the winter there is a little group of at least four.

    I’ve only seen a hawk in our back yard once. I flew in and landed on a branch high i a tree and sat there eating a bird. Cats are the big problem for song birds here.

    I guess we must have a nesting pair that visits our feeder in the summer. I haven’t seen their nest and I haven’t seen any chickadees that might be the young produced by the nesting pair if that’s what they are.

    I think the chickadees life goes something like this: hatch from the egg, beg for food, escape from the nest, avoid the hazards of young bird life, live through the winter, mate, protect eggs on the nest, sing a merry song and complain when anyone gets too close.

    Like

    Reply

  12. We have chickadees that come to our feeder and I am very glad to see them. I didn’t see any chickadees when I first started putting out seed for birds in Clarks Grove. I think that there might not have been enough trees and brush and other cover for them when we first moved here. During the summer I only see one pair as far as I can tell. In the winter there is a little group of at least four.

    I’ve only seen a hawk in our back yard once. It flew in and landed on a branch high i a tree and sat there eating a bird. Cats are the big problem for song birds here.

    I guess we must have a nesting pair that visits our feeder in the summer. I haven’t seen their nest and I haven’t seen any chickadees that might be the young produced by the nesting pair if that’s what they are.

    I think the chickadees life goes something like this: hatch from the egg, beg for food, escape from the nest, avoid the hazards of young bird life, live through the winter, mate, protect eggs on the nest, sing a merry song and complain when anyone gets too close.

    Like

    Reply

    1. Okay, I can still sort of do it, but it is really a fake double posting and there is faker who made another fake double posting.

      Like

      Reply

      2. J in CG I liked the image of you sitting in a tree eating a cat. It raised the not very seasonal question…”Did you eat the ears first?”

        Like

        Reply

      3. I once saw a cat with a song bird in it’s mouth and I have seen bird feathers that looked like they were the remains of a bird that might have been eaten by a cat. However, I don’t have any plans to carry a cat up into a tree to eat. I think cats should be kept inside. Perhaps cooked leg of cat would good, but I would not be able to eat it if I knew I was eating someones pet.

        Like

        Reply

      4. I liked “I flew in and landed on a branch high i a tree” – great image, Jim or Fake Jim or whoever the heck is posting here today.

        Like

        Reply

  15. Claudia Schmidt’s song kind of reminds me of The Biggest Aspidistra in the World, so I’ve had that popping up in the back of my mind all weekend.

    Like

    Reply

Leave a reply to Fake Jim in Clarks Grove Cancel reply