Photographing Flickers 3 1 



in the soul of each flicker that would put most people to 

 shame. They climbed continually, and always toward the 

 top. Up our arms to our shoulders they would go, and 

 then to our heads. Just at the instant one's mind and 

 energy were directed toward balancing in the tree-top, he 

 was sure to get a series of jabs in the cheek. One might 

 endure the scratch of the sharp claws as they penetrated 

 his clothing, but he would be likely to cringe under the 

 sting of a chisel-shaped drill boring with rapid blows into 

 his arm. 



I couldn't see any use in the parents working them- 

 selves to death feeding such ravenous, full-grown children. 

 " They might as well hustle a little for themselves," I 

 said, as I climbed the stump next morning. We took all 

 five of the fledglings to the ground. Wild strawberries 

 they gulped down with a decided relish, until we got tired 

 and cut short the supply. We soon had a regular yar- 

 uping concert. One young cock clutched the bark with 

 his claws, his stiff-pointed tail feathers propping his body 

 in the natural woodpecker position, as he hitched nestward 

 up the tree, followed by his mates. 



Afterward when I set all five on a near-by limb with 

 the order "Company, attention! Right dress!" they 

 were the rawest and most unruly recruits I ever handled. 

 If the upper guide did not keep moving, he received a 

 gouge from his impatient neighbor below. This was sure 

 either to set the whole squad in motion, or to start a fam- 

 ily brawl, without regard to the annoyance of the bird 

 photographer. "About, face!" was executed with the 

 same lack of discipline on the part of the feathered com- 

 pany. The captain stepped meekly around to the other 



