A little flock of Black Capped Chickadees was causing an invisible, but loud ruckus this morning in the trees above my backyard.  After I watered and counted the ripening pumpkins, I paused for a while, trying to become inanimate, in the hopes of catching a glimpse of the tiny, rambunctious birds.  I sat still, staring into the canopy filtering the sunlight, until I could distinguish their movements in the leaves.  After some time, a few of them moved lower and lighted briefly on bare lower branches, and even on the heads of wild sunflowers momentarily. 
I have neither the equipment nor the skill to photograph a Chickadee.  They do not feed at the feeder or sit still on visible branches.  I mostly only hear them.  Today, they chattered and cheeped together nearby for a half and hour before moving on as a group.  In winter, they sound more solitary, calling each other over the hillside with a high pitched feee-beee.  I can't figure out the exact interval on the piano, but Niall can whistle it. 
I love hearing them so often throughout the seasons.  And, I cherish the rare times I actually see them.