Oh, Tufted Titmouse - by Diane Porter
How I wake up laughing…
when I hear your schoolyard taunt, neener neener neener.
Audio playback is not supported on your browser. Please upgrade.That is the call of a male Tufted Titmouse. He sings it over and over, publishing his ownership of this patch of woods, where he intends to breed. My house is in those woods also, but the bird isn’t worried about me. He’s concerned about rivals within his own species.
His song declares I’m the TITMOUSE here. And so every other titmouse in the woods knows that he is claiming this territory.
Female titmice sing only occasionally, and much more softly. But they listen! Something about the males’ songs helps them choose which one will father their babies and then helps to get them in the mood for breeding. Maybe it’s how loud the song is, or its rhythm, or how long it goes on. Male Tufted Titmice sing for a very long time.
The female builds the nest alone. Here she steal soft fibers of fur to line her nest from an alpaca fleece-filled nesting ball in my Redbud tree.
Her nest must be nearby in a hole in a tree. We leave snags and dead trees standing wherever we can, for birds like this, who need natural nest cavities.
Tufted Titmice are one of the best customers at my bird feeder, making me smile all year around. This spring, if your window is open, you’ll know what I mean.
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