80 WINTER NEIGHBORS. 
kept his place, apparently without moving a muscle. 
The female, I took it, had answered his advertisement. 
She flitted about from limb to limb (the female may 
be known by the absence of the crimson spot on the 
back of the head), apparently full of business of her 
own, and now and then would drum in a shy, tenta- 
tive manner. The male watched her a few mo- 
ments, and, convinced perhaps that she meant busi- 
ness, struck up his liveliest tune, then listened for her 
response. As it came back timidly but promptly, he 
left his perch and sought a nearer acquaintance with 
the prudent female. Whether or not a match grew 
out of this little flirtation I cannot say. 
Our smaller woodpeckers are sometimes accused of 
injuring the apple and other fruit trees, but the depre- 
dator is probably the larger and rarer yellow-bellied 
species. One autumn I caught one of these fellows in 
the act of sinking long rows of his little wells in the 
limb of an apple-tree. There were series of rings of 
them, one above another, quite around the stem, some 
of them the third of an inch across. They are evi- 
dently made to get at the tender, juicy bark, or cam- 
bium layer, next to the hard wood of the tree. The 
health and vitality of the branch are so seriously im- 
paired by them that it often dies. 
In the following winter the same bird (probably) 
tapped a maple-tree in front of my window in fifty-six 
places; and when the day was sunny, and the sap 
oozed out, he spent most of his time there. He knew 
the good sap-days, and was on hand promptly for his 
tipple ; cold and cloudy days he did not appear. He 
knew which side of the tree to tap, too, and avoided 
the sunless northern exposure. When one series of 
well-holes failed to supply him, he would sink another, 
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