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Gray-headed Chickadee : Gray-headed Chickadee Cekepipipiiq Seeing the Gray-headed chickadee for the first time in the Arctic National Wildlife Refuge was one of the most exciting parts of a trip I took up there in the summer of 2004. I'm 62 years old and I do occasionally get excited about a bird sighting. Many years ago in northeast Bolivia when I first saw Hoatzin birds, eleven of them, on the leafy margin of a jungle lake in Madidi National Park, I was elated. In Tikal, Guatemala, when I saw a flock of noisy toucans called Collared aricaris I felt the same way. And in southeast Arizona after a long search one early Spring morning I felt, well, as happy as a lark, to finally find my first Elegant trogon. Those three exotic birds were highlights of trips to three special places on Earth. Although the Gray-headed chickadee in no way compares to the other birds in size, shape or color, I was still excited about seeing it - for many reasons, foremost among them, its location, the stunningly beautiful valley of the Marsh Fork of the Canning River on the western fringe of the Arctic National Wildlife Refuge. But for the story of how found the chickadees, let me quote from my journal: June 27-- "I wanted to check out three small stands of balsam poplar (cottonwood) I noticed yesterday from the top of the mountain. They were located in the alluvial fan made by a creek issuing from one of the valleys on the east side of the Marsh Fork. I thought that just possibly there might be some Gray-headed chickadees nesting there. It would depend on how old the trees were, since these birds were cavity nesters and needed a big enough tree to find a hole sufficiently large to lay their eggs in. To get to the cottonwood trees, my two friends Fran and Phil and I had to wade through a thick willow jungle punctuated every now and then by an open stretch of gravel outwash deposited by the creek during periods of high water. We checked first one grove of trees, then another. Nothing. We had almost given up, and were pushing our way through the willow thicket towards the third stand of cottonwood when I heard a definite chickadee spish. But it wasn't like either of the calls I was familiar with in the Interior. It was slower, more deliberate and lower pitched than those of both the Boreal and Black-capped chickadees. It sounded an awful lot like the call of the Gray-headed chickadee I had listened to on Leonard Peyton's CD before leaving Fairbanks. I spished the bird, and immediately there it was in the willows, poking around for insect tidbits, probably to feed to its young. I glassed it to inspect its topknot and face, comparing it to the pictures of the chickadees in my bird guide. It did, in fact, have a grayer head than any of the Boreals I'd ever seen, and its white cheek patch was larger than that of the Boreal or Black-cap. Finally, I thought, after hearing so much about this bird for so long, and dearly wanting to see it in my lifetime, I was now observing it up close and personal. When I spished again, it came down right in front of me and ogled me as though I might have something to offer it. And not only one, but another chickadee, probably its mate, began calling nearby. It didn't show itself, but its slow and easy spish was identical to the one 1 was trailing through the willows. I followed the one bird for as far as I could without totally alienating my friends with my enthusiasm. It was hot in that breezeless jungle, about 90 degrees hot, and they soon headed out into the open. Reluctantly, I followed, listening closely as I pushed the last willows away from my face. Tsiti ti ti jeew...jeew jeew. Then it stopped, and that was the last I heard its call. My friends were waiting." When I returned home to Fairbanks, I did a little research on this unusual bird, finding that it is the rarest and least understood of our North American chickadees. It is, in fact, an Old World chickadee, known as Siberian tit in northern Russia and Europe, that crossed the Bering Strait during one of the last glaciations and established itself in the northern part of this continent to about as far as the Mackenzie River Valley in Canada. It is mostly a permanent resident, found close to treeline where stunted spruces, poplars and willows grow along remote Arctic creeks. Like other chickadee species, it feeds in small flocks or family groups on insects, insect eggs and pupae, larvae, spiders, seeds and the fat of dead animals. Its foraging strategies, too, are similar to those of other chickadees, including the storage of food for later retrieval. Gray-headed chickadees nest in holes, usually in dead or dieing spruce or poplar trees. The mated pair remain together throughout the year on a large permanent territory which may be shared by one other mated pair. The nest is built by the female and has a base of decaying wood, then a layer of grass or moss, and finally a cup of animal hair. The male feeds the female as part of their mating ritual and continues to do so throughout the incubation period and until the nestlings are about half-grown. Between four and fifteen white, reddish-brown spotted eggs are laid, and incubation is done totally by the female for 14-18 days. After the eggs hatch, the female broods the young most of the time at first, while the male brings food. Later, both parents share these duties. The young leave the nest when they are about 19-20 days old. All of this just goes to prove what excitement about a bird did to me. Before leaving for the Marsh Fork of the Canning I hadn't done my homework on the Gray-headed chickadee. I guess I really hadn't expected to see it. Now, however, my whole view of this rare bird has changed. And, if the truth were known, I might be just as excited the next time I see one. » List of Yupik Birds

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