A bacchant for sweets is the Sapsucker free!
“The spring is here, and I’m thirsty!” quoth he:
“There’s good drink, and plenty stored up in this cave;
’Tis ready to broach!” quoth the Sapsucker brave.
A bacchant for sweets! “’Tis nectar I seek!”
And he raps on the tree with his sharp-whetted beak;
And he drinks, in the wild March wind and the sun,
The coveted drops, as they start and run.
He girdles the maple round and round—
’Tis heart-blood he drinks at each sweet wound;
And his bacchanal song is the tap-tap-tap,
That brings from the bark the clear-flowing sap.
—Edith M. Thomas, in _Bird-Lore_.
“How many kinds of Woodpeckers are there around here?” asked Eliza
Clausen. “I didn’t know there was but one, the great big one, thick like
a Pigeon, all speckled black and brown on top, with a red spot on his
head and a big white spot over his tail. We had two down at our farm
this summer, and they lived in a hole in the old wild cherry, and they
laid real nice white eggs, just as white as our Leghorns.”
“How’d you know they had white eggs?” asked Clary. “You can’t see into a
Woodpecker’s hole.”
“No; I could reach in, though. I didn’t keep the egg, and only looked at
it, and one of the old birds bit me something fierce. They’re real
plucky birds, anyway, whatever they are called, for nobody seems to give
them the same name. Mother says they are Pigeon Woodpeckers, and Dad
calls them Yallerhammers, and both names fit pretty well.”
“There are half a dozen Woodpeckers to be found here, but the one that
Eliza has described and the little black-and-white streaked Downy
Woodpecker are the most familiar as well as the most useful of them all.
As to Eliza’s Pigeon Woodpecker or Yellowhammer, the poor bird is
weighed down by over thirty popular names,—Northern Flicker,
Golden-winged Woodpecker, Wake-up, Gaffer, and Partridge Woodpecker
being among them, though the Wise Men who settle these things for us
have decided to call him merely ‘the Flicker.’
“In spite of the fact that, owing to his size and plumpness, the Flicker
has been until recently allowed to be shot as a game-bird, he is our
commonest Woodpecker, and spring would not be the same in this woodland
region if we did not hear the roll of the drum, as he beats on a branch,
that announces the coming of the feathered procession of migrants.
“Then, too, it is such a jolly bird, it calls out ‘wick, wick, wick,’ as
soon as the ponds are free of ice, and this call he changes to
‘wicker-wicker’ as soon as the courting begins; at this time the birds
show to the best advantage. The rival birds are perfectly friendly, but
‘they play curious antics, each trying to outdo the other in the display
of his golden beauty, that he may thus attract and hold the attention of
the female. There is no fighting, but, in its place, an exhibition of
all the airs and graces that rival dandies can muster. Their
extravagant, comical gestures, rapidly changing attitudes, and exuberant
cries, all seem laughable to the onlooker, but evidently give pleasure
to the birds.’—Forbush.
[Illustration: FLICKER]
“The Flicker spends more time on the ground, itself, than the others of
its family; and it has a slightly curved beak, but its tongue is very
long, and the fine points on the end are set backward like the barbs of
a fish-hook. Its most valuable work is as an ant-eater, and as one of
the Wise Men says: ‘This bird is more of an ant-eater than a Woodpecker.
It may be seen in fields and open spaces, in woods and orchards, where
it strikes its long bill into ant-hills, and then thrusts out its still
longer tongue coated with sticky saliva and licks up the out-rushing
ants by the dozen. Many kinds of ants are decidedly harmful, as they
attend, protect, and help to spread plant-root, or bark-lice, which are
among the greatest enemies of garden plants, also shrubs and trees.
These lice the ants keep as cows to nourish their young with green,
sappy milk. Ants also infest houses and destroy timber.’
“Some people complain that the Flicker bores holes in the attics of
houses, and also under eaves when searching for nesting-places, and also
for winter shelter. This is true, doubtless, but as the Nuthatch told me
that my cornice was decayed and needed mending, so the working of a
Flicker about any building should be a warning to the owner to look and
see if repairs are not needed.
“Our neighbour, Mr. Burwood, the florist, on the next hill, who, in
spite of the fact that he must keep his eyes indoors on the splendid
carnations and roses he grows, still has a glance or two to spare for
the birds, told me, not long ago, this story of a Flicker. It was in
early spring, and he was thinking of turning the water into a great
covered tank, mounted on high trestles, that supplies water for the
houses, that had been empty all winter; in fact, he had given the men
orders so to do. Early in the morning he heard a vigorous tapping high
up in the air, and tried in vain to locate it. The next morning, the
same sound came, when he traced it to a Flicker, hammering away at one
of the stout oaken staves of which the tank was made.
“Thinking that the bird was trying an impossible task, he continued
about his work, but, after the hammering had continued for several days,
his suspicions were aroused, the tank was examined, and two holes were
found, drilled entirely through the stave, which, in spite of
appearances, was unsound and would, probably, have given out without
warning at some inconvenient season when repairs would have cut off the
water supply.
“Always deal kindly with the Flicker, and never make the mistake of
confusing it with the Sapsucker; look for the _white spot on the rump_
and the _yellow wing-linings_, and you will know it, and, though the
young of the year lack these marks at first, they have no yellow upon
their breasts that can excuse you for making a mistake.