On Tits

As someone whose main interest is in Butterflies and Moths, the onset of winter is a time of planning for next year, frustration at the incessant Somerset damp, and generally not getting as much fresh air as I should do.  Nevertheless, there is one thing I always look forward to. Tits!

Blue Tit

Ha. Ha. Ha. The jokes about these diminutive birds, are many and boring, it’s a rite of passage for any birdwatcher, upon confessing their strange hobby to a new acquaintance to see said acquaintance’s eyes light up, a cunning smile suddenly appearing on their face, as, in faintly nasal tones, perhaps with a knowing wink or nudge, they say:

‘So you like tits then?’ before bursting into uncontrolled fits of laughter. 

You laugh too, humouring the new acquaintance, blushing at having to suffer this classic ornithological gag for the nth time.

To me, this idle dinner table banter obscures the true majesty of these creatures, who could doubt the smoky beauty of the humble Blue Tit’s Asian counterpart – the Azure Tit (one for the WP wishlist), or the impressive adaptability of the Great Tit, recently found to sing at higher frequencies in cities to overcome the low frequency, everyday hubbub, of human life?

Sadly, we’re only blessed with 10 regularly-occurring species of Tit in the Western Palearctic, all of which feed on insects and nest in holes in trees, or well-placed nest boxes. It’s worth noting that 3 other birds rejoice in the monosyllabic moniker:  the Long-Tailed, Penduline and Bearded Tits, though they aren’t members of the true tits family – Paridae, of which I’ve seen 6 species, including the outrageously quiffed Crested Tit, and rather more understated Sombre Tit. 

At this time of year, like many passerines, Tits start to gather into discreet flocks, and suddenly, these under-appreciated creatures become greater than the sum of their parts. Anyone who has seen these roving mobs bouncing along wood edges cannot fail to be struck by the purposefulness of their movement. In scenes reminiscent of a highly trained militia clearing a building, checking every nook and cranny for insect prey (just not the Brown Hairstreak eggs – please!), their daily foraging takes on an air of strange menace.

Juvenile Blue and Great Tits.

Despite this, these menacing bands do have a sensitive side, and sometimes even take in refugees. That is to say, wandering passerines like Firecrests and Siberian Chiffchaffs occasionally pop up with them, enjoying the safety that many pairs of eyes, and those classic shrill tit alarm calls provide.

In short, Tits, despite the name (which, incidentally, is thought to be Scandinavian in origin, possibly from the Icelandic: titlingur, meaning Sparrow), deserve our respect, they’re beautiful, plucky, and many of them even have the virtue of being quite common.
 

Perhaps winter isn’t so bad!

References

1.       Jha, A., (2009). ‘City birds sing higher than country cousins, scientists find’. Guardian, [online]. Available at http://www.theguardian.com/environment/2009/jun/03/great-tit-city-bird-song , [accessed 22/11/15].



2.       Crochet P-A., Joynt G. (2011). ‘AERC list of Western Palearctic birds. December 2011 version’. Available at http://www.birdwatch.co.uk/userfiles/file/Birdwatch/Checklist%20of%20Western%20Palearctic%20birds%201.pdf, [accessed 22/11/15].

3.       Harper D. (2015). ‘Online Etymology Dictionary’. Available at: http://www.etymonline.com/index.php?term=tit, [accessed 22/11/15].