When Bow Hunting Fails, Just Watch the Black-capped Chickadees

I went bow hunting for the first time 25 years ago. Some good friends urged me to join them and I was excited to do so. I had practiced for months with my bow and was now ready to try my hand at this new activity.

They took me on to private ground in Bureau County and brought extra equipment for me to borrow.

It was a beautiful autumn evening in November with a cool breeze and warmth from the lowering sun. They chose a tree right next to a beautiful prairie re-creation on the top of a hill. The guys coached me on how to safely set up a tree stand, which was much appreciated. They chuckled a bit as I nervously climbed and settled in.

I commented “Wow, it’s a beautiful view of the prairie from up here.”

They retorted “You’re not here to look at plants! You’re here to hunt!” I tend to wander off looking at plants at any given time, and that can be annoying because people often feel the need to send out a search party. I settled in and heeded their expert advice…and tried not to focus on the big bluestem and Indian grass swaying in the breeze. It was time to focus on hunting, after all, this was what I had practiced doing.

I sat silently for a couple hours when a few black-capped chickadees started foraging for food in the oak trees in front of me. I was amazed how these squat birds worked together. They were looking for something, anything, to eat before the cold winds of winter arrived.

I pondered on how these beautiful little birds survive the Midwest winters. They are resident native birds and some of our smallest. To keep their body temperature up they must eat 20 times as much in the cold winter than in the summer and fall. They form flocks of up to about a dozen individuals which usually includes the young of the year. As a team these feathered fellows forage while keeping an eye out for predators. With a repertoire including more than a dozen different calls, they set off the alarm that a predator is nearby. All the chickadees froze and made soft peeping noises. They won’t move until the danger has passed. Chickadees eat insect pupas. They raid cocoons. They look under bark for wintering insects. When they find something good they alert the rest of their group. That’s when the chattering gets pretty loud. They will eat anything they possibly can to survive. They have been seen to eat parts of acorns whenever possible, too.

In general, chickadees are cavity nesters, so as I was waiting for deer I looked for a hole in an oak limb for evidence of nesting activity. I didn’t see any. Black-capped chickadees will have 5 to 10 eggs in one clutch, with the male searching for food and bringing it to the female while she incubates the eggs for 11 to 13 days.

I feed birds throughout the year but in the summer I don’t see many black-capped chickadees as they seem to stay in the nearby woodland where they feed primarily on insects. I typically feed black oil sunflowers to birds because they contain more fat and oil than in millet.

Back to the hunt, that first evening was incredible. Several deer grazed below me, not the least bit worried or impressed by my presence on my perch. I took two shots, missed both and lost an arrow.

More deer assembled but I had no intention of shooting at that time of the evening. The chickadees left to do what they do at night, and I descended properly from the tree stand. Later in the evening, over beer and some pizza, I assured my friends that I had not looked at plants the whole time while in my stand. I did, however, tell them about watching the chickadees.

I never got invited to bow hunt with them again.

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Thomas Hintz is the Site Superintendent at Lincoln Trail State Park and Walnut Point State Park.