THE DOWNY WOODPECKER. 



Another Woodpecker ? Yes, 

 there are such a tribe of us, you 

 know ; more than you can count 

 on your fingers and toes, as my 

 cousin the Red-Bellied Wood- 

 pecker said in the February 

 number of Birds. 



The word toes reminds me 

 that I am not one of the three- 

 toed fellows he was so anxious 

 to tell about. I have four, as 

 you see, two before and two 

 behind. So have most of the 

 AVoodpeckers. Should you be 

 looking out for me this summer 

 you will recognize me by my 

 four toes, the white band down 

 my back, and the two white 

 stripes on the side of my head. 



My tongue you can't see, but 

 it is small, flat, short, and horny, 

 armed along the edges with 

 hooks. When I catch an insect 

 I do it by throwing my tongue 

 forward, out of my mouth. I 

 have an idea the insects consider 

 my treatment of them rather 

 rough. If I didn't eat them, 

 the wood-boring ones, would 

 destroy all the trees. My bill 

 isn't strong enough to bore in the 

 hard wood ; I only injure the 

 bark, no matter what some people 

 may say. The wood-eating 

 beetles, caterpillars, spiders, 



daddy longlegs, grass-hoppers, 

 and flies, are all grist for my mill 

 — or bill, rather. I like beech- 

 nuts, too, when I can find them. 



I'm the smallest of all the 

 Woodpecker family, quiet and 

 unobtrusive they say, in my 

 manners. I am sociable, how- 

 ever, and go about a great deal 

 in the company of other birds. 

 Mr. Nuthatch, Mr. Brown 

 Creeper, Mr. Titmouse, and Mr. 

 and Mrs. Wren are my especial 

 friends. 



Can I drum ? 



Indeed, yes. I wouldn't belong 

 to the Woodpecker family if I 

 couldn't. All I need is the stub 

 of a dead limb whose center is 

 hollow and whose shell is hard 

 and resonant. I will drum on 

 that with my bill for an hour at 

 a time, stopping now and then 

 to listen for a response from my 

 mate or a rival. 



Early in the spring we 

 " Downies " pick a hole in a 

 dead tree, or in a post or rail of 

 a fence, in which we lay four, 

 five, or six glossy white eggs. 

 Sometimes it takes us a whole 

 week to chisel out that hole, and 

 we are so busy that a little boy 

 or little girl can get very near 

 without our minding it. 



216 



