The general rule of longevity for birds in the wild is "big birds live longer than small birds." Some large birds live for several decades; for example, The Common Loon can live twenty to thirty years. A small bird such as a Chickadee is lucky to live for five years.

Most small songbirds lucky enough to make it through the first year, succumb to predators, disease, or misfortune. Few songbirds reach old age. Yet, despite the poor odds of small birds living to a ripe old age, I believe that on at least four occasions, I've seen a Black-capped Chickadees do just that! In fact, there is just such a bird coming to the feeder, a veritable songbird codger.

How do I know the Chickadee is in its twilight years? I have no proof, merely my own observations. The Chickadee is very slow moving and appears to have "lost its bounce." It moves at its own pace and arrives at the feeder by itself. It shells seeds with less vigor than its younger tree-mates. It sits for long periods of time on the water dish; no doubt, remembering the good old days. This uncharacteristic sluggishness allows me time to study Chickadee markings, whereas other Chickadees are difficult to study because of their constant movement.

The Codger Chickadee also has the crabby temperament I would expect of an aging bird. If some younger whippersnapper Chickadee inadvertently strays too close, it immediately puffs itself up until it looks like a ferocious fluff ball. The offending birds see this display, and immediately retreat.

However, this strategy does not appear to work on what I assume is one of the dominant Chickadees of the flock. When it is given the fluff challenge, the younger Chickadee pursues the older bird and forces it to leave the area of the feeder. The old Chickadee is not usually deterred for long and returns after only a short time to resume its quiet and methodical dining.

The old Chickadee's feathers also showed signs of aging. Granted, most birds lose their feathers twice a year so feathers do not usually look old, it is the space between the feathers that look gappy. When I first saw the old Chickadee I thought it had been in some sort of accident. Closer inspection revealed darker patches on the cheeks showing through the normally solid white feathering - somewhat like thinning hair on an animal. Similarly, the left eye of the Chickadee was not hidden in dark black crown feathers as they are on a younger bird. Also, those little bumps on its legs, the "heels" that are usually hidden in the belly feathers, protruded and showed black feathering, giving it a bandy-legged appearance. In general appearance it just looked like an old Chickadee.

Several years ago I lived in a cabin along Bradley Creek, and spotted my first Chickadee with signs of old age. That particular bird, like the one I'm seeing at the feeder, did not strike me as ill. Rather it acted like a bird that was wearing out. I can't remember all the details of its downhill slide, but I do remember the last time I saw the bird. Near the end it was reduced to walking rather than flying. Yes, it actually lost the ability to fly but still soldiered on. During summer the Chickadee came out of the undergrowth beneath the feeder and grabbed a desiccated earthworm lying on the ground. The Chickadee tugged at the worm until it came free of the dry earth, then triumphantly tottered back into the bush. What a trooper!

There are no old age homes for small birds and if there were, the homes would be scantily populated.

Anyone with a scientific bent who reads my account of aging Chickadees would no doubt write these birds off as nothing but diseased individuals. And that would be the safe bet. However, I choose to believe I can tell old from ill and stand by what I saw.

Just a reminder to those old birds - you're never too old to be watched.