Sometimes, luck in bird watching requires nothing more than investigating slight differences in what you see or hear.

In my case, it was what I heard that earned me a great view of a beautiful little songbird recently.

I had been going about my household chores when I heard a chickadee-like call outside. As the windows were all still closed against the late winter cold, I realized the call originated in the group of apple trees directly below my hallway window – the same place I had viewed the mockingbird, cardinal, and the song sparrow that I had written about in my last column.

The call was so similar to a chickadee’s that I almost paid it no mind; however, something about it wasn’t quite right. It was more stuttered and raspy, not as distinct as is the chickadee’s call; and it lacked the clear “chick-a-dee-dee-dee” syllables of its true author.

I carefully approached the window and was delighted to see a tufted titmouse a few feet away. It uttered its chickadee-like call notes a few more times, then flew out of sight. A few seconds later, I heard its clear song ringing throughout the neighborhood.

Interestingly enough, a version of this bird’s song also resembles another bird’s: that of the northern cardinal. A physical feature of the titmouse is also similar to the cardinal’s: both have a short crest on their heads.

However, the titmouse and chickadee belong to the same family – Paridae – and are closely related; the cardinal is not.

Members of the family Paridae share many characteristics, such as caching food. Both chickadees and titmice will store large quantities of food in many different locations throughout the fall and winter. In David Allen Sibley’s “Sibley Guide to Bird Life and Behavior,” Alec Humann states this behavior requires the birds to have a large amount of spatial memory and is a significant survival mechanism in climates with harsh winters.

Humann also mentions these birds are often used as an example of “cultural learning.” In Great Britain during the 1920s, titmice learned to look for the appearance of milk bottles delivered on people’s doorsteps. Before the houses’ occupants came to collect them, the birds flew in, tore through the cardboard or foil covers on the bottles and drank the cream that had risen to the top.

As do chickadees, titmice will readily visit backyard bird feeders and prefer black oil sunflower seeds – the bigger and plumper the better. Lacking the heavy, crushing bills of larger birds such as cardinals, they will grasp the seed in their feet and use their bills to hammer the shell open. The same strong feet and legs of these birds also enable them to feed in some pretty precarious and very acrobatic postures, such as while hanging upside down from the tip of a tree bud.

There is one characteristic that sets the titmouse apart from other members of its family. According to the “Birds of North America” species account, young birds will often remain with their parents over the winter and may even stay on the following spring to help raise new siblings.

Titmice appear to be nonmigratory and, according to the BNA, they have been expanding their range north for the past 50 years. Factors cited in this expansion are climatic warming and increased numbers of bird feeding stations.

Sightings of them in Maine appear to be increasing.

One of the most intriguing things about this bird, for me, has been the origin of its name. In “100 Birds and How They Got Their Names,” author Diana Wells states that the name “titmouse” comes from the Old Icelandic name meaning “small” (titr) and the Anglo-Saxon term for “small bird” (mase).

Wells is quick to point out that “this is not the same root as ‘mouse’ (from the Latin mus), and ‘titmice’ as a plural is not etymologically consistent, even if these birds do seem a bit like perky little mice.”

Hmmm, perky little mice. Not how I’d describe this elegant little gray and white bird, but I’m amazed at what I’ve learned as a result of investigating a funny-sounding call note.

bdnsports@bangordailynews.net