Winter is back! Cold temperatures and frequent storms have resulted in a blanket of snow that has covered the landscape for an extended period of time. Last week I even saw snowmobile tracks crossing the road by my house. I haven’t seen signs of snowmobiles in a long time.

With that said, winter is also nearly over. Technically stretching from Dec. 21 to March 20, winter weather can occasionally push into early spring, but such storms are rare and short-lived. So just as we are starting to think about playing in the snow we are also quickly running out of time.

Spring is on the way, but you don’t have to take my word for it. All you have to do is go out on a quiet morning and listen.

The birds are starting to sing! There aren’t many voices yet, but those that are there are bright, clear and sweet to the ear in the otherwise quiet world of winter. The nuthatches are singing their little “toy horn” songs and the house finches are starting to tune up their voices for the arrival of warm weather. But among all of these different performances there is one that stands out for its clarity, volume, and its ability to lift the spirit of any person that hears it — the song of the tufted titmouse (Baeolophus bicolor).

This is a bright, clear song that is particularly easy for humans to imitate. The song is quite variable and it can change over time as the little minstrels follow their creativity and explore variations on a theme. The basic song is a single note, or a pair of notes, that is repeated 3 to 4 times. I have seen it described as “Peter-Peter-Peter,” but I personally think this is a little misleading.

The syllables are correct, but the bird never generates the sharp, explosive noise that we associate with the letter “P.” A better model might be “heater-heater-heater,” or simply “eater-eater-eater,” with emphasis on the first syllable and a downswing in pitch on the second. But then the same bird may change things up and move on to a variation that has only one syllable, like “ear-ear-ear” with the same downswing in pitch, or “free-free- free” with an upswing. Then the bird may simply change notes, or even octaves.

As variable as this song is, it is one of the bird songs that I have always been able to copy fairly well. I don’t bother whistling along with the birds this early in the season, but in April and May I can manage to send titmice into apoplectic fits by mimicking anything they sing. The problem is that I don’t completely understand what I’m “saying” and the changes in tone, speed, or note selection appear to mean something that is simply beyond me. For a short moment, however, I can get a titmouse really excited and really close as it tries to find the interloper who would dare to challenge territorial claims.

I have been interested in the distribution of tufted titmice in my own yard over the past 10 years. These birds have always been “around,” which was made easy to determine by those loud, distinctive songs I have just mentioned, but for many years I was perplexed by the lack of titmice at my feeders in winter. Last year, however, the birds seemed to “get it,” and they started showing up more regularly. This winter the titmice have been present on a daily basis, and their antics have brightened my mood on more than one occasion.

Related to the black-capped chickadee, the tufted titmouse is a small, curious, and bold little bird that will often come close to people just to see what’s going on. I’ve had titmice take sunflower seeds out of my hands and have even had particularly sassy individuals make barnstorming runs at my head, seemingly just for the fun of it. Chickadees are notorious for this sort of spunky, playful behavior and titmice are apparently unwilling to be outdone.

Another endearing little habit that is shared by chickadees and titmice is their ability to grab a sunflower seed, carry it to a perch, hold it between their feet, and bash it open. Sparrows never seem to even consider such a maneuver, but this sort of behavior occasionally seems to cross the mind of American goldfinches. However, they lack the stronger toes of titmice and chickadees and can’t really give it a go. The only other local birds that I have seen perform this trick are blue jays and crows.

When I first learned bird names, the titmouse and the black-capped chickadee were both members of the genus “Parus.” The titmouse was Parus bicolor and the black-capped chickadee was Parus atricapillus. That was way back in the dark ages, however, before DNA testing was so easy. In 2013 the genus names of both species were changed after genetic testing gave a more detailed idea of how the birds are related. The tufted titmouse became Baeolophus bicolor, while the black- capped chickadee became Poecile atricapillus. The genus Parus remains in use with a small group of European birds that bear a striking similarity to chickadees and are referred to as “tits.”

Regardless of what names we assign them, the titmouse is one of the friendliest birds to be found in our area. Any sort of feeder filled with any sort of sunflower seed will attract a titmouse if one lives nearby. Just keep your eyes and ears peeled in the coming weeks as titmice ramp up their behavior in anticipation of spring.

Bill Danielson has worked for
the National Park Service, the
U.S. Forest Service, and the
Massachusetts State Parks.
He has been a professional writer and nature photographer for 19 years and he also teaches high school biology and physics. Visit www.speakingofnature.com for more information, or go to Speaking of Nature on Facebook.