PILEATED WOODPECKER 125 



tree, or where the bird has been feeding. (Fig. 57.) It 

 is mostly insectivorous, and with its great strength of 

 neck and powerful bill is enabled to search out and live 

 on the hibernating larvae and worms so abundant in 

 the vast forest in which it lives during the rigors of 

 winter. These powerful birds pull great splinters of 

 dead wood from the trees while seeking their food of 

 wood-borers and other tree-destroying worms. 



This Woodpecker does not migrate, even from the 

 cold climate of Canada. I have seen it along the streams 

 flowing north into Hudson's Bay. The Indians call the 

 bird, "Cock of the Woods," or "Log Cock." When you 

 approach a tree in which one of them is feeding, it is very 

 careful to keep on the farther side from you and all you 

 will see will be an occasional poke of the bird's head 

 from behind the trunk, to see what you are doing. (Fig. 

 58.) I used to have another boy "circle" the tree at a 

 hundred yards distance, while I remained hidden until the 

 bird showed up on my side of the tree. By this ruse, 

 I am sorry to say, I succeeded in killing a few of these 

 big birds. Whenever I have wounded one of them the 

 tenacity with which it clung to the tree before falling 

 was something remarkable. The Pileated Woodpecker 

 will fight to the death, if you wound and capture it. 



In 1922, while bird-hunting with my camera in south- 

 ern Mjissouri, I discovered a nest of this big Woodpecker. 

 It was located in a dead tree, standing a hundred feet 

 from the shore in an artifically made lake. The nest 

 hole was sixty feet from the water. The problem of get- 

 ting a ' * close-up ' ' of the old birds at the nest was there- 

 fore a perplexing one. However, there was a dead limb 

 near by. I climbed up, anchored my camera on this limb 

 within four feet of the body of the tree and, covering it 

 with paw-paw leaves, dropped a fishing line which I 

 trailed to the bank where I had built a blind of green 

 boughs. Entering the blind, I had my assistant get into 

 the canoe and row across the lake. 



Within ten minutes I had secured the first picture 

 as this great bird, with characteristic poise, posed for me 

 just before she entered the nest to feed the young. 

 (Fig. 59.) 



I changed plates and retired to my blind to await 

 the return of the feeding birds. I remained in the blind 



