CHAPTER II 



Picus the Woodpecker 



NOT many miles from Berlin, I was lying 

 in a grove with my back propped 

 against an oak, when I heard a laugh, a quick, 

 cackling laugh overhead. I knew at once it 

 was a woodpecker. I could hear through the 

 back of my head how his claws rattled against 

 the bark as he made his way up the trunk and 



