7 : I : f | | wey if . Pa 1 (ae A i 7 TPA | f il J A , Hi y mh Ki i A ia a a i ay } i i i ma i ne mel AG alae iy my eR ua We iy iN ie ne nN ied Na " va i ant it Wy (THE WOODPECKERS FANNIE HARDY ECKSTORM WITH ILLUSTRATIONS Pre Riversive Presg’ BOSTON AND NEW YORK HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN AND COMPANY Che Viiverside Press, Cambridge 1901 _ i n if ¥ Ws i —s ee oo ; , ae a ite - ‘ ey ain wee i 7 of ny COPYRIGHT, 1900, BY FANNIE HARDY ECKSTORM ALL RIGHTS RESERVED institgm “ se % .e JUL 22 4 Un AT AEA “tonal Muse Se To MY FATHER MR. MANLY HARDY A Lifelong Naturalist ‘ CHAP. XVI. CONTENTS ForEworpD: THE RIDDLERS . How to kNow A WoopPECKER . How THE WoOODPECKER CATCHES A GRUB . How tHE WOoOoDPECKER COURTS HIS MATE . How tHE WoopPECKER MAKES A House . How A FLICKER FEEDS HER YOUNG . Frrmnp Downy : : : : 5 , . PERSONA NON GRATA. (YELLOW-BELLIED SAPSUCKER) Ex CARPINTERO. (CALIFORNIAN WOODPECKER) . A ReEpD-HEADED Cousin. (RED-HEADED Woop- PECKER) . A Strupy or AcqurrED Hasits . THE WooprecKER’s Toots: His Brinn . Toe WoopreckEr’s Toots: His Foor . Tot WoopreEckKeEr’s Toots: His Tar . THe WooppEcKER’s Toots: His Toncuer . - How EAcH WOoDPECKER IS FITTED FOR HIS OWN Kinp oF Lire . A Tur ARGUMENT FROM DESIGN APPENDIX A. B. Key To THE WooprreckErRs oF NortH AMERICA . DESCRIPTIONS OF THE WOODPECKERS OF NortTH AMER- ICA PAGE 104 110 118 114 117 LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS PAGE Flicker (colored) . ; Se > : ; . Frontispiece Boring Larva . ; ‘ F : : E : ; 3 10 Indian Spear C : : ; : ; : ; : » aly Solomon Islander’s Spear : : : : : ; . 13 Downy Woodpecker (colored) . : ; : . facing 28 Bark showing Work of Sapsucker . > : i : : 34 Yellow-bellied Sapsucker (colored) . : : . facing 34 Trunk of Tree showing Work of Californian Woodpecker. 47 Californian Woodpecker (colored) : . : . facing 48 Red-headed Woodpecker (colored) - : : . facing 56 Head of the Lewis’s Woodpecker : : : . : 5 (AB Head of Ivory-billed Woodpecker . : : : : ‘ 70 Foot of Woodpecker . : ; : : : : 3 Satis Diagram of Right Foot . : . - : ; : : 79 Foot of Three-toed Woodpecker : : : ‘ : 5 teh) Tail of Hairy Woodpecker. : : : ; : 86 Tails of Brown Creeper and Chimney Swift : : 87 Middle Tail Feathers of Flicker, Ivory-billed Wisdpesee oe Hairy Woodpecker ; c : F 5 the Diagram of Curvature of Tails of Werdeceeed: : : : 90 Patterns of Tails. : ; 91 Under Side of Middle Tail ee of Ivory-billed Waodeeckex 97 Tongue of Hairy Woodpecker : : : : A : 99 Tongue-bones of Flicker. : é . 100 Skull of Woodpecker, showing Tiviow of Token : : 5 101 Hyoids of Sapsucker and Golden-fronted Woodpecker . 102 Diagram of Head of a Flicker : : : : : : 118 The colored illustrations are by Louis Agassiz Fuertes. The text cuts are from drawings by John L. Ridgway. Ter ec f oF BTML, dn y AD. Aq ie : ig ate ea) J ‘ ivh We mi _ | a ; : . r fc " 3 a” a i) papel thik il Or a ait fT) Ue at ais “an / deep ae 2 ; (uae Fy N a fit i i cL tie ¢ ‘ii (ae , ee oe 3 ra mal’ ‘ ig jah hae 1A pallies I Le r r ‘ , 77 . a 4 ; x Parry ie Wil dy pi a wrt a TA hier || We), in ers , ite : Alin ~ wig geucge ith Cae rep hi THE WOODPECKERS FOREWORD: THE RIDDLERS Lone ago in Greece, the legend runs, a terri- ble monster called the Sphinx used to waylay travelers to ask them riddles: whoever could not answer these she killed, but the man who did answer them killed her and made an end of her riddling. To-day there is no Sphinx to fear, yet the world is full of unguessed riddles. No thought- ful man can go far afield but some bird or flower or stone bars his way with a question demanding an answer; and though many men have been diligently spelling out the answers for many years, and we for the most part must study the answers they have proved, and must reply in their words, yet those shrewd old rid- dlers, the birds and flowers and bees, are always ready for a new victim, putting their heads to- gether over some new enigma to bar the road to knowledge till that, too, shall be answered ; 2 THE WOODPECKERS so that other men’s learning does not always suffice. So much of a man’s pleasure in life, so much of his power, depends on his ability to silence these persistent questioners, that this lit- tle book was written with the hope of making clearer the kind of questions Dame Nature asks, and the way to get correct answers. This is purposely a little book, dealing only with a single group of birds, treating particu- larly only some of the commoner species of that group, taking up only a few of the problems that present themselves to the naturalist for so- lution, and aiming rather to make the reader acquainted with the birds than learned about them. The woodpeckers were selected in preference to any other family because they are patient under observation, easily identified, resident in all parts of the country both in summer and in winter, and because more than any other birds they leave behind them records of their work which may be studied after the birds have flown. The book provides ample means for iden- tifying every species and subspecies of wood- pecker known in North America, though only five of the commonest and most interesting species have been selected for special study. At least three of these five should be found in FOREWORD: THE RIDDLERS 3 almost every part of the country. The Califor- nian woodpecker is never seen in the Kast, nor the red-headed in the far West, but the downy and the hairy are resident nearly everywhere, and some species of the flickers and sapsuckers, if not always the ones chosen for special notice, are visitors in most localities. Look for the woodpeckers in orchards and along the edges of thickets, among tangles of wild grapes and in patches of low, wild berries, upon which they often feed, among dead trees and in the track of forest fires. Wherever there are boring larve, beetles, ants, grasshoppers, the fruit of poison-ivy, dogwood, june-berry, wild cherry or wild grapes, woodpeckers may be con- fidently looked for if there are any in the neigh- borhood. Be patient, persistent, wide-awake, sure that you see what you think you see, careful to remember what you have seen, studious to com- pare your observations, and keen to hear the questions propounded you. If you do this seven years and a day, you will earn the name of Natu- ralist; and if you travel the road of the naturalist with curious patience, you may some day become as famous a riddle-reader as was that (idipus, the king of Thebes, who slew the Sphinx. HOW TO KNOW A WOODPECKER Tue woodpecker is the easiest of all birds to recognize. Even if entirely new to you, you may readily decide whether a bird is a woodpecker or not. The woodpecker is always striking and is often gay in color. He is usually noisy, and his note is clear and characteristic. His shape and habits are peculiar, so that whenever you see a bird clinging to the side of a tree “as if he had been thrown at it and stuck,” you may safely call him a woodpecker. Not that all birds which cling to the bark of trees are woodpeckers, — for the chickadees, the crested titmice, the nut- hatches, the brown creepers, and a few others like the kinglets and some wrens and wood-war- blers more or less habitually climb up and down the tree-trunks; but these do it with a pretty grace wholly unlike the woodpecker’s awkward, cling-fast way of holding on. As the largest of these is smaller than the smallest woodpecker, and as none of them (excepting only the tiny HOW TO KNOW A WOODPECKER 5 kinglets) ever shows the patch of yellow or scar- let which always marks the head of the male woodpecker, and which sometimes adorns his mate, there is no danger of making mistakes. The nuthatches are the only birds likely to be confused with woodpeckers, and these have the peculiar habit of traveling down a tree-trunk with their heads pointing to the ground. A woodpecker never does this; he may move down the trunk of the tree he is working on, but he will do it by hopping backward. A still surer sign of the woodpecker is the way he sits upon his tail, using it to brace him. No other birds except the chimney swift and the little brown creeper ever do this. A sure mark, also, is his feet, which have two toes turned forward and two turned backward. We find this arrange- ment in no other North American birds except the cuckoos and our one native parroquet. How- ever, there 1s one small group of woodpeckers which have but three toes, and these are the only North American land-birds that do not have four well-developed toes. In coloration the woodpeckers show a strong family likeness. Except in some young birds, the color is always brilliant and often is gaudy. Usually it shows much clear black and white, with dashes of scarlet or yellow about the head. 6 THE WOODPECKERS Sometimes the colors are “ solid,” as in the red- headed woodpecker ; sometimes they he in close bars, as inthe red-bellied species ; sometimes in spots and stripes, as in the downy and hairy ; but there is always a contrast, never any blend- ing of hues. The red or yellow is laid on in well-defined patches — square, oblong, or cres- centic — upon the crown, the nape, the jaws, or the throat; or else in stripes or streaks down the sides of the head and neck, as in the log-cock, or pileated woodpecker. There is no rule about the color markings of the sexes, as in some families of birds. Usually the female lacks all the bright markings of the male ; sometimes, as in the log-cock, she has them but in more restricted areas; sometimes, as in the flickers, she has all but one of the male’s color patches; and in a few species, as the red- headed and Lewis’s woodpeckers, the two sexes are precisely alike in color. In the black- throated woodpecker, sometimes called Willam- son’s sapsucker, the male and female are so totally different that they were long described and named as different birds. It sometimes happens that a young female will show the color marks of the male, but will retain them only the first year. Though the woodpeckers cling to the trunks HOW TO KNOW A WOODPECKER 7 of trees, they are not exclusively climbing birds. Some kinds, like the flickers, are quite as fre- quently found on the ground, wading in the grass like meadowlarks. Often we may frighten them from the tangled vines of the frost grape and the branches of wild cherry trees, or from clumps of poison-ivy, whither they come to eat the fruit. The red-headed woodpecker is fond of sitting on fence posts and telegraph poles ; and both he and the flicker frequently alight on the roofs of barns and houses and go pecking and pattering over the shingles. The sapsuckers and several other kinds will perch on dead limbs, like a flyeatcher, on the watch for insects; the flickers, and more rarely other kinds, will sit crosswise of a limb instead of crouching length- wise of it, as is the custom with woodpeckers. All these points you will soon learn. You will become familiar with the form, the flight, and the calls of the different woodpeckers ; you will learn not only to know them by name, but to understand their characters; they will become your acquaintances, and later.on your friends. This heavy bird, with straight, chisel bill and sharp-pointed tail-feathers ; with his short legs and wide, flapping wings, his unmusical but not disagreeable voice, and his heavy, undulating, business-like flight, is distinctly bourgeois, the 8 THE WOODPECKERS type of a bird devoted to business and enjoying it. No other bird has so much work to do all the year round, and none performs his task with more energy and sense. The woodpecker makes no aristocratic pretensions, puts on none of the coy graces and affectations of the professional singer; even his gay clothes fit him less jauntily than they would another bird. He is artisan to the backbone, —a plain, hard-working, useful citizen, spending his life in hammering holes in anything that appears to need a hole in it. Yet he is neither morose nor unsocial. There is a vein of humor in hin, a large reserve of mirth and jollity. We see little of it except in the spring, and then for a time all the laughter in him bubbles up; he becomes uproarious in his glee, and the melody which he cannot vent in song he works out in the channels of his trade, filling the woodland with loud and harmonious rappings. Above all other birds he is the friend of man, and deserves to have the freedom of the fields. Il HOW THE WOODPECKER CATCHES A GRUB Dip you ever see a hairy woodpecker strolling about a tree for what he could pick up ? There is a whur-r-rp of gay black and white wings and the flash of a scarlet topknot as, with a sharp ery, he dashes past you, strikes the limb solidly with both feet, and instantly sidles behind it, from which safe retreat he keeps a sharp black eye fixed upon your motions. If you make friends with him by keeping quiet, he will presently forgive you for being there and hop to your side of the limb, pursuing his ordi- nary work in the usual way, turning his head from side to side, inspecting every crevice, and picking up whatever looks appetizing. Any knot or little seam in the bark is twice scanned ; in such places moths and beetles lay their eggs. Little cocoons are always dainty morsels, and large cocoons contain a feast. The butterfly- hunter who is hoping to hatch out some fine cecropia moths knows well that a large propor- tion of all the cocoons he discovers will be empty. 10 THE WOODPECKERS The hairy woodpecker has been there before him, and has torn the chrysalis out of its silken cra- dle. For this the farmer should thank him heartily, even if the butterfly-hunter does not, for the cecropia caterpillar is destructive. But sometimes, on the fair bark of a smooth limb, the woodpecker stops, listens, taps, and be- gins to drill. He works with haste and energy, laying open a deep hole. For what? An apple- tree borer was there cutting out the hfe of the tree. The farmer could see no sign of him; neither could the woodpecker, but he could hear the strong grub down in his little chamber gnawing to make it longer, or, fright- ened by the heavy footsteps on his roof, scram- bling out of the way. It is easy to hear the borer at work in the tree. When a pine forest has been burned and the trees are dead but still standing, there will be such a crunching and grinding of borers eat- ing the dead wood that it can be heard on all sides many yards away. Even a single borer can sometimes be heard distinctly by putting the ear to the tree. Sound travels much farther through solids than it does through air; notice how much farther you can hear a railroad train Boring larva. HOW THE WOODPECKER CATCHES A GRUB 11 by the click of the rails than by the noise that comes on the air. Even our dull ears can de- tect the woodworm, but we cannot locate him. How, then, is the woodpecker to do what we cannot do ? Doubtless experience teaches him much, but one observer suggests that the woodpecker places the grub by the sense of touch. He says he has seen the red-headed woodpecker drop his wings till they trailed along the branch, as if to determine where the vibrations in the wood were strongest, and thus to decide where the grub was boring. But no one else appears to have noticed that woodpeckers are in the habit of trailing their wings as they drill for grubs. It would be a capital study for one to attempt to discover whether the woodpecker locates his grub by feeling, or whether he does it by hear- ing alone. Only one should be sure he is look- ing for grubs and not for beetles’ eggs, nor for ants, nor for caterpillars. By the energy with which he drills, and the size of the hole left after he has found his tidbit, one can decide whether he was working for a borer. But when the borer has been located, he has yet to be captured. There are many kinds of borers. Some channel a groove just beneath the bark and are easily taken; but others tunnel 12 THE WOODPECKERS deep into the wood. I measured such a hole the other day, and found it was move than eight inches long and larger than a lead-pencil, bored through solid rock-maple wood. The wood- pecker must sink a hole at right angles to this channel and draw the big grub out through his small, rough-sided hole. You would be sur- prised, if you tried to do the same with a pair of nippers the size of the woodpecker’s bill, to find how strong the borer is, how he can buckle and twist, how he braces himself against the walls of his house. Were your strength no greater than the woodpecker’s, the task would be much harder. Indeed, a large grub would stand a good chance of getting away but for one thing,—the woodpecker spears him, and thereby saves many a dinner for himself. Here is a primitive Indian fish-spear, such as Indian spear. the Penobscots used. To the end of a long pole two wooden jaws are tied loosely enough to spring apart a little under pressure, and midway between them, firmly driven into the end of the HOW THE WOODPECKER CATCHES A GRUB 13 pole, is a point of iron. When a fish was struck, the jaws sprung apart under the force of the blow, guiding the iron through the body of the fish, which was held securely in the hollow above, that just fitted around his sides, and by the point itself. The tool with which the woodpecker fishes for a grub is very much the same. His mandibles correspond to the two mova- ble jaws. They are knife-edged, and the lower fits exactly inside the upper, so that they give a very firm grip. In addition, the upper one is movable. All birds can move the upper mandible, because it is hinged to the skull. (Watch a parrot some day, if you do not believe it.) A medium-sized woodpecker, like the Lewis’s, can elevate his upper mandible at least a quarter of an inch without opening his mouth at all. This enables him to draw his prey through a smaller hole than would be needed if he must open his jaws along their whole length. Be- tween the mandibles is the sharp-pointed Island- er’s spear. tongue, which can be thrust entirely through a grub, holding him impaled. Unlike the In- dian’s spear-point, the woodpecker’s tongue is 14 THE WOODPECKERS barbed heavily on both sides, and it is extensile. As a tool it is the Solomon Islander’s spear. A medium-sized woodpecker can dart his tongue out two inches or more beyond the tip of his bill. A New Bedford boy might tell us, and very correctly, that the woodpecker harpoons his grub, just as a whaleman harpoons a whale. If the grub tries to back off into his burrow, out darts the long, barbed tongue and spears him. Then it drags him along the crooked tunnel and into the narrow shaft picked by the woodpecker, where the strong jaws seize and hold him firmly. Hl HOW THE WOODPECKER COURTS HIS MATE OrueER birds woo their mates with songs, but the woodpecker has no voice for singing. He can- not pour out his soul in melody and tell his love his devotion in music. How do songless birds express their emotions? Some by grotesque ac- tions and oglings, as the horned owl, and some by frantic dances, as the sharp-tailed grouse, woo and win their mates; but the amorous woodpecker, not excepting the flickers, which also woo by gestures, whacks a piece of sea- soned timber, and rattles off interminable mes- sages according to the signal code set down for woodpeckers’ love affairs. He is the only in- strumental performer among the birds; for the ruffed grouse, though he drums, has no drum. There is no cheerier spring sound, in our be- lated Northern season, than the quick, melodious rappings of the sapsucker from some dead ash limb high above the meadow. It is the best performance of its kind: he knows the capabili- ties of his instrument, and gets out of it all the 16 THE WOODPECKERS music there is in it. Most if not all woodpeck- ers drum occasionally, but drumming is the spe- cial accomplishment of the sapsucker. He is easily first. In Maine, where they are abun- dant, they make the woods in springtime re- sound with their continual rapping. Early in April, before the trees are green with leaf, or the pussy-willows have lost their silky plump- ness, when the early round-leafed yellow violet is cuddling among the brown, dead leaves, I hear the yellow - bellied sapsucker along the borders of the trout stream that winds down between the mountains. The dead branch of an elm-tree is his favorite perch, and there, ele- vated high above all the lower growth, he sits rolling forth a flood of sound lke the tremolo of a great organ. Now he plays staccato, — detached, clear notes ; and now, accelerating his time, he dashes through a few bars of impetu- ous hammerings. The woods reécho with it; the mountains give it faintly back. Beneath him the ruffed grouse paces back and forth on his favorite mossy log before he raises the pal- pitating whirr of his drumming. A chickadee digging in a rotten limb pauses to spit out a mouthful of punky wood; and the brown Vanessa, edged with yellow, first butterfly of the season, flutters by on rustling wings. So HOW THE WOODPECKER COURTS HIS MATE 17 spring arrives in Maine, ushered in by the reveille of the sapsucker. So ambitious is the sapsucker of the excel- lence of his performance that no instrument but the best will satisfy him. He is always experi- menting, and will change his anvil for another as soon as he discovers one of superior resonance. They say he tries the tin pails of the maple- sugar makers to see if these will not give him a clearer note; that he drums on tin roofs and waterspouts till he loosens the solder and they come tumbling down. But usually he finds no- thing so near his liking as a hard-wood branch, dead and barkless, the drier, the harder, the thinner, the finer grained, so much the better for his uses. Deficient as they are in voice, the woodpeck- ers do not lack a musical ear. Mr. Burroughs tells us that a downy woodpecker of his acquaint- ance used to change his key by tapping on a knot an inch or two from his usual drumming place, thereby obtaining a higher note. Alter- nating between the two places, he gave to his music the charm of greater variety. The wood- peckers very quickly discover the superior con- ductivity of metals. In parts of the country where woodpeckers are more abundant than good drumming trees, a tin roof proves an 18 THE WOODPECKERS almost irresistible attraction. A lightning-rod will sometimes draw them farther than it would an electric bolt; and a telegraph pole, with its tinkling lances and ringing wires, gives them oreat satisfaction. If men did not put their singing poles in such public places, their music would be much more popular with the wood- peckers; but even now the birds often venture on the dangerous pastime and hammer you out a concord of sweet sounds from the mellow wood- notes, the clear peal of the glass, and the ringing overtones of the wires. The flicker often telegraphs his love by tap- ping either on a forest tree or on some loose board of a barn or outhouse ; but he has other ways of courting his lady. On fine spring morn- ings, late in April, I have seen them on a hort- zontal bough, the lady sitting quietly while her lover tried to win her approval by strange antics. Quite often there are two males displaying their charms in open rivalry, but once I saw them when the field was clear. If fine clothes made a gentleman, this brave wooer would have been first in all the land: for his golden wings and tail showed their glittering under side as he spread them; his scarlet headdress glowed like fire; his rump was radiantly white, not to speak of the jetty black of his other ornaments and HOW THE WOODPECKER COURTS HIS MATE 19 the beautiful ground-colors of his body. He danced before his lady, showing her all these beauties, and perhaps boasting a little of his own good looks, though she was no less beautiful. He spread his wings and tail for her inspec- tion; he bowed, to show his red crescent; he bridled, he stepped forward and back and side- wise with deep bows to his mistress, coaxing her with the mellowest and most enticing co-wee- tucks, which no doubt in his language meant “Oh, promise me,” laughing now and then his jovial wick-a-wick-a-wick-a-wick-a, either in glee or nervousness. It was all so very silly —and so very nice! I wonder how it all came out. Did she promise him ? Or did she find a gayer suitor ? IV HOW THE WOODPECKER MAKES A HOUSE Att woodpeckers make their houses in the wood of trees, either the trunk or one of the branches. Almost the only exceptions to this rule are those that live in the treeless countries of the West. In the torrid deserts of Arizona and the Southwest, some species are obliged to build in the thorny branches of giant cacti, which there grow to an enormous size. In the treeless plains to the northward, a few individ- uals, for lack of anything so suitable as the cactus, dig holes in clay banks, or even lay their egos upon the surface of the prairie. In a coun- try where chimney swallows nest in deserted houses, and sand martins burrow in the sides of wells, who wonders at the flicker’s thinking that the side of a haystack, the hollow of a wheel- hub, or the cavity under an old ploughshare, is an ideal home? But in wooded countries the woodpeckers habitually nest in trees. The only exceptions I know are a few flickers’ holes in old posts, and a few instances where flickers HOW THE WOODPECKER MAKES A HOUSE 21 have pecked through the weatherboarding of a house to nest in the space between the walls. But because a bird nests in a hole in a tree, it is not necessarily a woodpecker. The sparrow- hawk, the house sparrow, the tree swallow, the bluebird, most species of wrens, and several of the smaller species of owls nest either in natural cavities in trees or in deserted woodpeckers’ holes. The chickadees, the crested titmice, and the nut- hatches dig their own holes after the same pat- tern as the woodpecker’s. However, the large, round holes were all made by woodpeckers, and of those under two inches in diameter, our friend Downy made his full share. It is easy to tell who made the hole, for the different birds have different styles of housekeeping. The chick- adees and nuthatches always build a soft little nest of grass, leaves, and feathers, while the woodpeckers lay their eggs on a bed of chips, and carry nothing in from outside. Soon after they have mated in the spring, the woodpeckers begin to talk of housekeeping. First, a tree must be chosen. It may be sound or partly decayed, one of a clump or solitary; but it is usually dead or hollow-hearted, and at least partly surrounded by other trees. Sometimes a limb is chosen, sometimes an upright trunk, and the nest may be from two feet to one hundred 22 THE WOODPECKERS feet from the ground, though most frequently it will be found not less than ten nor more than thirty feet up. However odd the location finally occupied, it is likely that it was not the first one selected. A woodpecker will dig half a dozen houses rather than occupy an undesirable tene- ment. It is very common to find their unfin- ished holes and the wider-mouthed, shallower pockets which they dig for winter quarters ; for those that spend their winters in the cold North make a hole to live in nights and cold and stormy days. The first step in building is to strike out a circle in the bark as large as the doorway is to be; that is, from an inch and a half to three or four inches in diameter according to the size of the woodpecker. It is nearly always a perfect circle. Try, if you please, to draw freehand a circle of dots as accurate as that which the wood- pecker strikes out hurriedly with his bill, and see whether it is easy to do as well as he does. If the size and shape of the doorway suit him, the woodpecker scales off the bark inside his circle of holes and begins his hard work. He seems to take off his coat and work in his shirt- sleeves, so vigorously does he labor as he clings with his stout toes, braced in position by his pointed tail. The chips fly out past him, or if HOW THE WOODPECKER MAKES A HOUSE 23 they lie in the hole, he sweeps them out with his bill and pelts again at the same place. The pair take turns at the work. Who knows how long they work before resting? Do they take turns of equal length? Does one work more than the other? A pair of flickers will dig about two inches in a day, the hole being nearly two and a half inches in diameter. A week or more is consumed in digging the nest, which, among the flickers, is commonly from ten to eighteen inches deep. The hole usually runs in horizontally for a few inches and then curves down, ending in a chamber large enough to make a comfortable nest for the mother and her babies. What a good time the little ones have in their hole! Rain and frost cannot chill them; no enemy but the red squirrel is likely to disturb them. There they lie in their warm, dark cham- ber, looking up at the ray of light that comes in the doorway, until at last they hear the scratch- ing of their mother’s feet as she alights on the outside of the tree and clambers up to feed them. What a piping and calling they raise inside the hole, and how they all scramble up the walls of their chamber and thrust out their beaks to be fed, till the old tree looks as if it were blossom- ing with little woodpeckers’ hungry mouths ! Vv HOW A FLICKER FEEDS HER younGc! As the house of the woodpecker has no win- dows and the old bird very nearly fills the door- way when she comes home, it is hard to find out just how she feeds her little ones. But one of our best naturalists has had the opportunity to observe it, and has told what he saw. A flicker had built a nest in the trunk of a rather small dead tree which, after the eggs were hatched, was accidentally broken off just at the entrance hole. This left the whole cavity exposed to the weather ; but it was too late to desert the nest, and impossible to remove the young birds to another nest. When first visited, the five little birds were blind, naked, and helpless. They were mother- less, too. Some one must have killed their pretty mother ; for she never came to feed them, and the father was taking all the care of his little family. When disturbed the little birds hissed like snakes, as is the habit of the callow young 1 Based upon the observations of Mr. William Brewster. HOW A FLICKER FEEDS HER YOUNG 25 of woodpeckers, chickadees, and other birds nest- ing habitually in holes in trees. When they were older and their eyes were open, they made a clat- ter much like the noise of a mowing-machine, and loud enough to be heard thirty yards away. The father came at intervals of from twenty to sixty minutes to feed the little ones. He was very shy, and came so quietly that he would be first seen when he alighted close by with a low little langh or a subdued but anxious call to the young. “ Here lamagain!”’ he laughed ; or “ Are you all right, children?” he called to them. “ All right!” théy would answer, clat- tering in concert like a two-horse mower. As soon as they heard him scratching on the tree-trunk, up they would all clamber to the edge of the nest and hold out their gaping mouths to be fed. Each one was anxious to be fed first, because there never was enough to go round. There was always one that, like the little pig of the nursery tale, “ got none.” When he came to the nest, the father would look around a moment, trying to choose the one he wanted to feed first. Did he always pick out the poor little one that had none the time before, I wonder ? After the old bird had made his choice, he would bend over the little bird and drive his long bill down the youngster’s throat as if to 26 THE WOODPECKERS run it through him. Then the little bird would eatch hold as tightly as he could and hang on while his father jerked him up and down for a second or a second and a half with great ra- pidity. What was he doing? He was pumping food from his own stomach into the little one’s. Many birds feed their young in this way. They do not hold the food in their own mouths, but swallow and perhaps partially digest it, so that it shall be fit for the tender little stomachs. While the woodpecker was pumping in this manner his motions were much the same as when he drummed, but his ‘tail twitched as rapidly as his head and his wings quivered. The motion seemed to shake his whole body. In two weeks from the time when the little birds were blind, naked, helpless nestlings they became fully feathered and full grown, able to climb up to the top of the nest, from which they looked out with curiosity and interest. At any noise they would slip silently back. A day or two later they left the old nest and began their journeys. No naturalist has been able to tell us whether other woodpeckers than the golden-winged flicker feed their young in this way, and little is known of the number of kinds of birds that use this method, but it is suspected that it is far more HOW A FLICKER FEEDS HER YOUNG 27 common than has ever been determined. If an old bird is seen to put her bill down a young one’s throat and keep it there even so short a time as a second, it is probable that she is feeding the little one by regurgitation, that is, by pumping up food from her own stomach. Any bird seen doing this should be carefully watched. It has long been known that the domestic pigeon does this, and the same has been observed a number of times of the ruby-throated hummingbird. A California lady has taken some remarkable pho- tographs of the Anna’s hummingbird in the act, showing just how it is done. VI FRIEND DOWNY No better little bird comes to our orchards than our friend the downy woodpecker. He is the smallest and one of the most sociable of our woodpeckers, — a little, spotted, black-and-white fellow, precisely like his larger cousin the hairy, except in having the outer tail-feathers barred instead of plain. Nearly everything that can be said of one is equally true of the other ona smaller scale. They look alike, they act alike, and their nests and eggs are alike in everything but size. Downy is the most industrious of birds. He is seldom idle and never in mischief. As he does not fear men, but likes to live in orchards and in the neighborhood of fields, he is a good friend to us. On the farm he installs himself as Inspector of Apple-trees. It is an old and an honorable profession among birds. The pay is small, consisting only of what can be picked up, but, as cultivated trees are so infested with insects that food is always plentiful, and as they have J. onli, consisting ouly of what’ COR vi niin) DOWRY Mh Dokion troiily bid womes to our) hen! wine Yeiewwt aye downy rota the wokdliowt ane bike of the most | le: woorpnchors, — a little, spotted, Yi fellow, precisely like his lange non: : excopt im having’ the diye toul-tusitvenie Ml instead of plain. Nearly averythiny: Sow " . mpi of one is equally trace fl the abby voller scale. They look alias thing: Ana (oh Then neste and egies yew ile ite eth hobeitas og Aonmmy dy Ate aancdat Serdhountiae ga: ut Lindel me teldhown ithe whe wewen te yulheibaiet at doas-tist Fer whats tet Likes no dive Gee shal und in. the seagbborkood of fields, Radas “—_ friend to iw. On the farm he ihetalla ee as Inspector of Apple-tvees, Tt is am ale honorable profession among. birds, © jn 7 i: pho if aaa : Mots clGvatod trae a0 i fei pi aaiatiy: oLadeeaitad 2 ee - aay FRIEND DOWNY 29 usually a dead branch suitable to nest in, Downy asks no more. Summer and winter he works on our orchards. At sunrise he begins, and he patrols the branches till sunset. He taps on the trunks to see whether he can hear any rascally borers inside. He inspects every tree carefully in a thorough and systematic way, beginning low down and following up with a peek into every crevice and a tap upon every spot that looks sus- picious. If he sees anything which ought not to be there, he removes it at once. A moth had laid her eggs in a crack in the bark, expecting to hatch out a fine brood of caterpillars: but Downy ate them all, thus saving a whole branch from being overrun with cater- pillars and left fruitless, leafless, and dying. A beetle had just deposited her eggs here. Downy saw her, and took not only the eggs but the beetle herself. Those eggs would have hatched into boring larvee, which would have girdled and killed some of the branches, or have burrowed under the bark, causing it to fall off, or have bored into the wood and, perhaps, have killed the tree. Nor is the full-grown borer exempt. Downy hears him, pecks a few strokes, and harpoons him with unerrmg aim. When Downy has made an arrest in this way, the prisoner does not escape from the police. Here is a colony 30 THE WOODPECKERS of ants, running up the tree in one line and down in another, touching each other with their feelers as they pass. A feast for our friend! He takes both columns, and leaves none to tell the tale. This isa good deed, too, since ants are of no benefit to fruit-trees and are very fond of the dead-ripe fruit. And Downy is never too busy to listen for borers. They are fine plump morsels much to his taste, not so sour as ants, nor so hard-shelled as beetles, nor so insipid as insects’ eggs. A good borer is his preferred dainty. The work he does in catching borers is of incalculable benefit, for no other bird can take his place. The war- blers, the vireos, and some other birds in sum- mer, the chickadees and nuthatches all the year round, are helping to eat up the eggs and insects that lie near the surface, but the only birds equipped for digging deep under the bark and dragging forth the refractory grubs are the woodpeckers. So Downy works at his self-appointed task m our orchards summer and winter, as regular as a policeman on his beat. But he is much more than a policeman, for he acts as judge, jury, jailer, and jail. All the evidence he asks against any insect is to find him loafing about the pre- mises. “I swallow him first and find out after- FRIEND DOWNY 31 wards whether he was guilty,” says Downy with a wink and a nod. Most birds do not stay all tHe year, in the North, at least, and most, in return for their labors in the spring, demand some portion of the fruit or grain of midsummer and autumn. Not so Downy. His services are entirely gra- tuitous; he works twice as long as most others. He spends the year with us, no winter ever too severe for him, no summer too hot; and he never taxes the orchard, nor takes tribute from the berry patch. Only a quarter of his food is vegetable, the rest being made up of injurious insects; and the vegetable portion consists entirely of wild fruits and weed-seeds, nothing that man eats or uses. Downy feeds on the wild dogwood berries, a few pokeberries, the fruit of the woodbine, and the seeds of the poison-ivy, — whatever scanty and rather infe- rior fare is to be had at Nature’s fall and winter table. If in the cold winter weather we will take pains to hang out a bone with some meat on it, raw or cooked, or a piece of suet, taking care that it is not salted, — for few wild birds except the crossbills can eat salted food, — we may see how he appreciates our thoughtfulness. Shall we etudge him a bone from our own abundance, or neglect to fasten it firmly out of reach of the cat 32 THE WOODPECKERS and dog? If his cousin the hairy and his neigh- bor the chickadee come and eat with him, bid them a hearty welcome. The feast is spread for all the birds that help men, and friend Downy shall be their host. Vil PERSONA NON GRATA WE shall not attempt to deny that Downy has an unprincipled relative. While it is no dis- credit, it is a great misfortune to Downy, who is often murdered merely because he looks a little, a very little, like this disreputable cousin of his. The real offender is the sapsucker, that musical genius of whom we have already spoken. The popular belief is that every woodpecker is a sapsucker, and that every hole he digs in a tree is an injury to the tree. We have seen that every hole Downy digs is a benefit, and now we wish to learn why it is that the sapsucker’s work is any more injurious than other woodpeckers’ holes ; how we are to recognize the sapsucker’s work ; and how much damage he does. We will do what the scientists often do, — examine the bird’s work and make it tell us the story. There is no danger of hurting the sapsucker’s reputa- tion. The farmer could have no worse opinion of him; and, though the case has been appealed to the higher courts of science more than once, 34 THE WOODPECKERS where the sapsucker’s cause has been eloquently and ably defended, the case has gone against him. Scientists now do not deny that the sap- sucker does harm. But his worst injury is less in the damage he does to the trees than in the ill- will and suspicion he creates against woodpeckers which do no harm at all. If you will study the picture and the descriptions in the Key to the Woodpeckers, you will be able to recognize the sapsucker and his nearest relatives, whether in the East or in the West. But all sapsuckers may be known by their pale yellowish under parts, and by the work they leave be- hind. As the yellow-bellied sap- sucker is the only one found east of the Rocky Mountains, we shall speak only of him and his work. Here is a specimen of the yellow-bellied sapsucker’s work which I picked up under the tree from which it had fallen. We do not need to inquire whether the tree was injured by its falling, for we know that the loss of sound and healthy bark is always a damage. Was this sound bark? Yes, because it is still firm and new. The sap in it dried Work of Sapsucker. s iS Walid ney The no MOW SSC er ail *) Gis whetkoe a “endaa t had folly ure -w hol her yur’ oh by its fall ings lor we Jone iy bealthy bak es rt we: Wan this sound bark?” "Wow, wl firwy aadweed, wildtype vi * s ulti ' esl 7 ni ate ca, : + : ee ee ee, el as an pe en Ww pee ts PERSONA NON GRATA 35 quickly, showing that neither disease nor worms caused it to fall; it is clean and hard on the back, showing that it came from a live tree, not from a dead, rotting log. How do I know that a bird caused it to fall ? The marks are precisely such as are always left by a woodpecker’s bill. How do I know that it was a sapsucker’s work? Because no other woodpecker has the habit which characterizes the sapsucker, of sinking holes in straight lines. The sapsuckers drill lines of holes sometimes around and sometimes up and down the tree- trunk, but almost always in rings or belts about the trunk or branches. A girdle may be but a single line of holes, or it may consist of four or five, or more, lines. Sometimes a band will be two feet wide; and as many as eight hundred holes have been counted on the trunk of a single tree. Such extensive peckings, however, are to be expected only on large forest trees. Most fruit and ornamental trees are girdled a few times about the trunk, and about the principal branches just below the nodes, or forks. Why did the bird dig these holes? There are three things that he might have obtained, — sap, the inner bark, and boring larve. Some naturalists have suggested a fourth as possible, — the insects that would be attracted by the sap. 36 THE WOODPECKERS We will see what the piece of bark tells us. It is four and a half inches long, by an inch and a half wide, and its area of six and three fourths square inches has forty-four punctures. Does this look as if the bird were digging grubs? Do borers live in such straight little streets? The number and arrangement of the holes show that he was not seeking borers, while the natu- ralists tell us that he never eats a borer unless by accident. What did he get? Undoubtedly he pecked away some of the inner bark. All these holes are much larger on the back side of the specimen than on the outer surface. While the damp inner bark would shrink a little on exposure to the air, we know that it could not shrink as much as this; and investigation has shown that the sapsucker feeds largely on just such food, for it has been found in his stomach. Two other possible food-substances remain, — sap and insects. We know that the sapsucker eats many insects, but it is impossible to prove that he intended these holes for insect lures. Sap he might have gotten from them, if he wished it. We know that the white birch is full of excellent sap, from which can be made a birch candy, somewhat bitter, but nearly as good as horehound candy. The rock and red maples and the white canoe birch are the only trees in PERSONA NON GRATA 37 our Northern forests from which we make candy. A strong probability that our bird wanted sap is indicated by the arrangement of the holes. Usually he drills his holes in rings around the tree-trunk, but in this instance his longest lines of holes are vertical. If our sapsucker was drilling for sap, he arranged his holes so that it would almost run into his mouth, lazy bird! Our piece of bark has taught us : — That the sapsucker injured this tree. That he was not after grubs. That he got, and undoubtedly ate, the soft inner bark of the tree. That he got, and may have drunk, the sap. We could not infer any more from a single instance, but the naturalists assure us that the bird is in the habit of injuring trees, that he never eats grubs intentionally, and that he eats too much bark for it to be regarded as taken accidentally with other food. About the sap they cannot be so sure, as it digests very quickly. There remain two points to prove: whether the sapsucker drills his holes for the sake of the sap, or for insects attracted by the sap, provided that he eats anything but the inner bark. Our little specimen can tell us no more, but two mountain ash trees which were intimate acquaintances of mine from childhood can go on 38 THE WOODPECKERS with the story. Do not be surprised that I speak of them as friends; the naturalist who does not make friends of the creatures and plants about will hear few stories from them. These trees would not tell this tale to any one but an intimate acquaintance. Let us hear what they have to say about the sapsucker. There are in the garden of my old home two mountain ash trees, thirty-six years of age, each having grown from a sprout that sprang up be- side an older tree cut down in 1863. They stand not more than two rods apart; have the same soil, the same amount of sun and rain, the same exposure to wind, and equal care. During all the years of my childhood one was a perfectly healthy tree-full of fruit in its season, while the other bore only scanty crops, and was always troubled with cracked and scaling bark. To- day the unhealthy tree is more vigorous than ever before, while its formerly stalwart brother stands a mere wreck of its former life and beauty. What should be the cause of such a remarkable change when all conditions of growth have re- mained the same ? I admit that there is some internal difference in the trees, for all the birds tell me of it. One has always borne larger and more abundant fruit than the other, but this is no reason why the PERSONA NON GRATA 39 birds should strip all the berries from that tree before eating any from the other. When we know that the favorite tree stands directly in front of the windows of a much-used room and overhangs a frequented garden path, the prefer- ence becomes more marked. But robins, gros- beaks, purple finches, and the whole berry-eating tribe agree to choose one and neglect the other, and even the spring migrants will leave the gay red tassels of fruit still swinging on one tree, to scratch over the leaves and eat the fallen berries that lie beneath the other. My own taste is not keen in choosing between bitter berries, but the birds all agree that there is a decided difference in these trees, — did agree, I should say, for their favorite is the tree that is dying. Evidently this is a question of taste. It is interesting to observe that the sapsucker, which was never seen to touch the fruit of the trees, agrees with the fruit-eating birds. Nearly all his punctures were in the tree now dying. Is there a differ- ence in the taste of the sap? Does the taste of the sap affect the taste of the fruit? Or is it merely a question of quantity? If he comes for sap, he prefers one tree to the other on the score either of better quality or greater quantity. We will discuss later whether it is sap that he wishes: all that now concerns us is to note 40 THE WOODPECKERS that the internal difference, whatever it is, is in favor of the tree that is dying; while the only external difference appears to be the marks left by the sapsucker. While one tree is sparingly marked by him, the other is tattooed with his punctures, placed in single rings and in belts around trunk and branches beneath every fork. Itis a law of reasoning that, when every condi- tion but one is the same and the effects are dif- ferent, the one exceptional condition is the cause of the difference. If these trees are alike in everything except the work of the sapsucker (the only internal difference apparently offsetting his work in part), what inference do we draw as to the effect of his work ? We presume that he is killing the tree, with- out as yet knowing how he does it. What is his object? Good observers have stated that he draws a little sap in order to attract flies and wasps ; that the sap is not drawn for its own sake, but as a bait for insects. Is this theory true ? The first objection is that it is improbable. The sapsucker is a retiring, woodland bird that would hesitate to come into a town garden a mile away from the nearest woods unless to get something he could not find in the woods. Had he wanted insects, he would have tapped a tree PERSONA NON GRATA 41 in the woods, or else he would have caught them in his usual flyeatching fashion. There must have been something about the mountain ash tree that he craved. As it is a very rare tree in the vicinity of my home, the sapsucker’s only chance to satisfy his longing was by coming to some town garden like our own. Not only is the theory improbable, but it fails to explain the sapsucker’s actions in this in- stance. In twenty years he was never seen to catch an insect that was attracted by the sap he drew. This does not deny that he may have caught insects now and then, but it does deny that he set the sap running fora lure. As he was never far away, and was sometimes only four and a half feet by measure from a cham- ber window, all that he did could be seen. He did not catch insects at his holes. He drank sap and ate bark. Finally, the theory is not only improbable and inadequate, but in this instance it is impossible. I do not remember seeing a sapsucker in the tree in the spring ; if he came in the summer, it must have been at rare intervals; but he was always there in the fall, when the leaves were dropping. At that season the insect hordes had been dis- persed by the autumnal frosts, so that we know he did not come for insects. 42 THE WOODPECKERS In the many years during which I watched the sapsuckers — for there were undoubtedly a number of different birds that came, although never more than one at a time — there was such a curious similarity in their actions that it 1s entirely proper to speak as if the same bird returned year after year. His visits, as I have said, were usually made at the same season. He would come silently and early, with the evident intention of making this an all-day excursion. By eight o’clock he would be seen clinging to a branch and curiously observant of the dining- room window, which at that hour probably ex- cited both his interest and his alarm. Early in the day he showed considerable activity, flitting from limb to limb and sinking a few holes, three or four in a row, usually above the previous upper girdle of the limbs he selected to work upon. After he had tapped several limbs he would sit waiting patiently for the sap to flow, lapping it up quickly when the drop was large enough. At first he would be nervous, taking alarm at noises and wheeling away on his broad wings till his fright was over, when he would steal quietly back to his sap-holes. When not alarmed, his only movement was from one row of holes to another, and he tended them with considerable regularity. As the day wore on PERSONA NON GRATA — 43 he became less excitable, and clung cloddishly to his tree-trunk with ever increasing torpidity, until finally he hung motionless as if intoxicated, tip- pling in sap, a disheveled, smutty, silent bird, stupefied with drink, with none of that brilliancy of plumage and light-hearted gayety which made him the noisiest and most conspicuous bird of our April woods. Our mountain ash trees have told us several facts about the sapsucker : — That he did not come to eat insects. That he did come to drink sap, and that he probably ate the inner bark also. That he drank the sap because he liked it, not for some secondary object, as insects. That he could detect difference in the quality or quantity of the sap, which caused him to prefer a particular tree. That this difference apparently was in the taste of the sap, and that the effects of a day’s drinking of mountain ash sap seemed to indi- cate some intoxicant or narcotic quality in the sap of that particular tree. That the effect of his work upon the tree was apparently injurious, as it is the only cause assigned of a healthy tree’s dying before a less healthy one of the same age and species, subject all its life to the same conditions. 4k THE WOODPECKERS So much we have learned about the sapsuck- er’s habits, and now we should like to know why his work is harmful, and why that of the other woodpeckers is not. It is not because he drinks the sap. All the sap he could eat or waste would not harm the tree, if allowed to run out of a few holes. Think how many gallons the sugar-makers drain out of a single tree without killing the tree. But the sugar-maker takes the sap in the spring, when the crude sap is mount- ing up in the tree, while the sapsucker does not begin his work till midsummer or autumn, when the tree is sending down its elaborated sap to feed the trunk and make it grow. This ac- counts for the woodpecker’s digging his pits above the lines of holes already in the tree. The loss of this elaborated sap is a greater in- jury than the waste of a far larger quantity of crude sap, so that on the season of the year when the sapsucker digs his holes depends in large measure the amount of damage he does. The injury that he does to the wood itself 1s trivial. He is not a woodpecker except at time of nesting, and most woodpeckers prefer to build in a dead or dying branch, where their work does no hurt. But we know very well that a tree may be a wreck, riven from top to bottom by lightning, split open to the heart by the tem- PERSONA NON GRATA 45 pest, entirely hollow the whole length of its trunk, and yet may flourish and bear fruit. The tree lives in its outer layers. It may be crippled in almost any way, if the bark is left uninjured ; but if an inch of bark is cut out entirely around the tree, it will die, for the sap can no longer run up and down to nourish it. This is the sapsucker’s crime: he girdles the tree, — not at his first coming, nor yet at his second, not with one row of holes, nor yet with two; but finally, after years perhaps, when row after row of punctures, each checking a little the flow of sap, have overlapped and offset each other and narrowed the channels through which it could mount and descend, until the flow is stopped. Then the tree dies. It is not the holes he makes, nor the sap he draws, but the way he places his holes that makes the sap- sucker an unwelcome visitor. For an unaccept- able individual he is to the farmer, — persona non grata, as kings say of ambassadors who do not please their majesties. What shall we do with him, the only black sheep in all the wood- pecker flock? Let him alone, unless we are pos- itively sure that we know him from every other kind of woodpecker.e The damage he does is trifling compared with what we should do if we made war upon other woodpeckers for some sup- posed wrong-doing of the sapsucker. Vi EL CARPINTERO In California and along the southwestern boundary of the United States lives a wood- pecker known among the Mexicans as El Car- pintero, the Carpenter. Carpentering is both his profession and _ his pastime, and he seems really to enjoy the work. When there is nothing more pressing to be done, he spends his time tinkering around, fitting acorns into holes in such great numbers and in so workmanlike a fashion that we do not know which is more remarkable, his patience or his skill. Every acorn is fitted into a separate hole made purposely for it, every one is placed butt end out and is driven in flush with the surface, so that a much frequented tree often appears as if studded with ornamental nails. “ What an industrious bird!” we exclaim; but still it takes some time to appreciate how enormous is the labor of the Carpenter. Whole trees will some- times be covered with his work, until a single tree has thousands of acorns bedded into its bark EL CARPINTERO 47 so neatly and tightly that no other creature can remove them. We may take for examination, from specimens Work of Californian Woodpecker. of the Carpenter’s work, a piece of spruce bark seven inches long by six wide, containing ten acorns and two empty holes. As spruce bark is so much harder and rougher than the pine 48 THE WOODPECKERS bark in which he usually stores his nuts,’ this specimen looks rough and unfinished, and even shows some acorns driven in sidewise; but for another reason I have preferred it to better- looking examples of his work for study. As we shall see later, it gives us a definite bit of information about the bird. Think of the work of digging these twelve holes. Think of the labor of carrying these ten large acorns and driving them in so tightly that after years of shrinking they cannot be removed by a knife without injuring either the acorn or the bark. Yet how small a part of the wood- pecker’s year’s work is here! How long could he live on ten acorns? How many must he gather for his winter’s needs? How many must he lose by forgetting to come back to them? We cannot calculate the work a single bird does nor the nuts he eats, for several birds usually work in company and may use the same tree; but all the woodpeckers are large eaters, and the Californian has been singled out for special mention. Can we estimate the amount of work required to lay up one day’s food? Judging by the 1 They often use white-oak bark, fence-posts, telegraph poles, even the stalks of century-plants, when trees are not convenient. (Merriam, Auk, viii. 117.) - Californian Woodpecker XT pa Lg ee One © ae en AC ee Ds ME ident Mb Bess. +) ¥) ie r Aare wae Bs as Mie M Gg : Ry OP ae A bo sein! t ; , A ee w\s i / Woot ae fi “8 ‘PH \ OC RRR eth i whieh be extieily ine ou Weeenen locks rongh and enna shows some Adorne driven in’ sdeww ee another reuson I have preferred i Wm looking examples of his, work'\for saa we shall seg later, it gives as a ioe hl iteration abort the bind: Pike of the work of digging these bw ne ‘ik Think of-the Iabor of carrying these tea, latte acorts aud driving them iijso rece that alter years of shrinking they cannot be te | by a knife without injuring’ either the nce ec the bark. Yet how emall & port of te aiinill if pecker’s yanr'a work, ie anes Fao he hve on ten aeovee? (ie a ho af gather for bis witetea ndely? Hivw many natst | Mit lone by forgetting to cone back te ee Wy eavaot colowlate the work o stagle hinbe bd mir Pe win be eats, for several binds sa whek To oni y wok way use the same buh all the. meontgechers are large eaters! ond Californian dea bein singled . out for ‘Spel al mention. ei): Can we estimate the amonnt of vork : to lay up one. day’s food? dich) nl * They often wae white-oak bark, Seah poatiy ie olen the sinlks of Pen ian Nt ewaihy eck Miiviawm, Auk, vial. EE da : : Ee a a hig a W gall aS - > EL CARPINTERO 49 amount of nuts some other birds will eat, I should think that all ten acorns contained in this piece of bark could be eaten in one day without surfeit. The estimate seems to me well inside of his probable appetite. I have experimented on this piece of bark, using a woodpecker’s bill for a tool, and it takes me twenty minutes to dig a hole as large but not as neat as these. Doubtless it would not take the woodpecker as long; but at my rate of working, four hours were spent in digging these twelve holes. Then each acorn had to be hunted up and brought to the hole prepared for it. This entailed a jour- ney, it may have been only from one tree to another, or it may have been, and very likely was, a considerable flight. For these acorns grew on oak-trees, and we find them driven into the bark of pines and spruces. This it is which gives our specimen its particu- lar interest. While oaks and pines may be inter- mingled, though they naturally prefer different soils and situations, and in the Rocky Mountains the pine-belt lies above the oak region, spruce and oak trees do not grow in the same soil. The spruce-belt stands higher up than the pine. As these nuts are stored in the bark of a spruce- tree, we have clear evidence that the bird must have carried them some distance. For every 50 THE WOODPECKERS nut he made the whole journey back and forth, since he could carry but one at a time, — ten long trips back and forth, certainly consuming several minutes each. Then each acorn had to be fitted to its hole. We have already spoken of the accuracy with which this is done, so that the Carpenter’s work is a standing taunt to the hungry jays and squirrels which would gladly eat his nuts if they could get them. A careful observer tells us that when the hole is too small, the wood- pecker takes the acorn out and makes the hole a little larger, working so cautiously, however, that he sometimes makes several trials before the acorn can be fitted and driven in flush with the bark. Some of these acorns show cracks down the sides, as if they had been split either in forcibly pulling them out of a hole not deep enough for them, or in driving them when green and soft into a hole too small for them. Of course after each trial the acorn must be hunted up where it lies on the ground and driven in again, and this takes considerable time. As nearly as we can estimate it, not less than half a day must have been spent in putting these acorns where we find them. With smaller acorns, stored in pine bark, less time would have EL CARPINTERO 51 been required; but weeks, if not months, of work are spent in laying up the winter’s stores. How the woodpecker’s back and jaws must have ached! Surely he is human enough to get tired with his work, and it is not play to do what this bird has done. Some of the acorns measure seven tenths of an inch in diameter by nine tenths in length, and the bird that carried them is smaller than a robin. How he must have hurried to reach his tree when the acorn was extra large! Yet he took time to drive every one in point foremost. Even those that lie upon their sides must have been forced into position by tapping the butt. He knows very well which end of an acorn is which, does our Carpenter. But what is the use of all this work? Why, if he wants acorns, does n’t he eat them as they lie scattered under the oaks, instead of taking pains to carry them away and put them into holes for the fun of eating them out of the holes afterward? The absurdity of this has led some people to surmise that the Carpenter chooses none but weevilly acorns, and _ stores them that the grub inside may grow large and fat and delicious. This would be very interest- ing, if it were true. There must of course be more weevilly acorns on the ground than he 52 THE WOODPECKERS picks up, so that he could get as many grubs without taking all this trouble, and there is no reason why they should not be as large and good as those hatched out in holes in trees. When I wish to keep nuts sweet, I spread them out on the attic floor in the sun and air, keep- ing them where they will not touch each other. The Carpenter does practically the same thing. Is it probable that he tries to raise a fine crop of grubs in this way ? If so, one or the other of us is doing just the wrong thing. But if wee- vils are what the Carpenter wants, then the nuts in the bark should be wormy ; yet only two of them show any sign of a weevil, and of these one appears from its dull color and weather-beaten look to be a nut deposited several years before the others by some other woodpecker. Every other acorn is as hard, shining, and bright col- ored as when it fell from the tree. Hvidently the bird picked these nuts up while they were fresh and good; perhaps he chose them because they were good and fresh. The possibility becomes almost a certainty when we observe that natu- ralists agree that the Carpenter uses no acorns but the sweet-tasting species. Now there are likely to be as many grubs in one kind of an acorn as in another, and he would scarcely re- fuse any kind that contained them, if grubs ‘ EL CARPINTERO 53 were what he wanted. The fact that he takes sweet acorns, and those only, shows that it is the meat of the nut that he wants. And all good naturalists agree that it is the kernel itself that he eats. Why he stores them is not hard to decide when we remember that the Californian wood- pecker, over a large part of his range, is a mountain bird. Though we think of California as the land of sunshine, it is not universal sum- mer there. The mountain ranges have a winter as severe as that of New England, with a heavy snowfall. When the snow lies several feet deep among the pines and spruces of the uplands, the Carpenter is not distressed for food: his pantry is always above the level of the snow ; he need neither scratch a meagre living from the edges of the snow-banks, nor go fasting. His fall’s work has provided him not only with the neces- sities, but with the luxuries of life. But why does he spend so much time in mak- ing holes? He might tuck his nuts into some natural crevice in the oak bark, or drop them into cavities which all birds know so well where to find. And leave them where any pilfering jay would be able to pick them out at his ease ? Or put them in the track of every wandering squirrel ? Jays and squirrels are never too hon- 54 THE WOODPECKERS est to refuse to steal, but they find it harder to get the woodpecker’s stores out of his pine- tree pantry than to pick up honest acorns of their own. So, like the woodpecker, they lay up their own stores of nuts, and feed on them in winter, or go hungry. We have had very little aid from anything except the piece of bark we were studying, yet we have learned that the Californian wood- pecker is a good carpenter; that he works hard at his trade; that he shows remarkable fore- sight in collecting his food, much ingenuity in housing it, good judgment in putting it where his enemies cannot get it, and wisdom in the plan he has adopted to give him a good supply of fresh nuts at a season when the autumn’s crop is buried under the deep snow. If I were a Californian boy, I think I should spend my time in trying to find out more about this wise woodpecker, concerning which much remains to be discovered. IX A RED-HEADED COUSIN Besipes his half-brothers, the narrow-fronted and ant-eating woodpeckers, the Carpenter has a numerous family of cousins, —the red-headed, the red-bellied, the golden-fronted, the Gila,’ and the Lewis’s woodpeckers. These all belong to one genus, and are much alike in structure, though totally different in color. Most of them are Western or Southwestern birds, but one is found in nearly all parts of the United States lying between the Hudson River and the Rocky Mountains, and is the most abundant woodpecker of the middle West. This well-known cousin is the red-headed woodpecker, the tricolored beauty that sits on fence-posts and telegraph poles, and sallies out, a blaze of white, steel-blue, and scar- let, a gorgeous spectacle, whenever an insect flits by. He is the one that raps so merrily on your tin roofs when he feels musical. In many ways the red-head, as he is famil- iarly called, is like his carpenter cousin. Both 1 So named from being found along the Gila River. 56 THE WOODPECKERS indulge in long-continued drumming’; both catch flies expertly on the wing; and both have the curious habit of laying up stores of food for future use. The Californian woodpecker not only stores acorns, but insect food as well. But though the Carpenter’s habits have long been known, it is a comparatively short time since the red-head was first detected laying up winter supplies. The first to report this habit of the red-head was a gentleman in South Dakota, who one spring noticed that they were eating young grasshoppers. At that season he supposed that all the insects of the year previous would be dead or torpid, and certainly full-grown, while those of the coming summer would be still in the egg. Where could the bird find half-grown grasshoppers ? Being interested to explain this, he watched the red-heads until he saw that one went frequently to a post, and appeared to get something out of a crevice in its side. In that post he found nearly a hundred grasshoppers, still alive, but wedged in so tightly they could not escape. He also found other hiding-places all full of grasshoppers, and discovered that the woodpeckers lived upon these stores nearly all winter. But it is not grasshoppers only that the red- X S mm aS & Ss S iN QR. : S x ‘mmrious habit af Igyinge-op eee of 6 eaeeSAtag