A RED-THROATED RED-HEAD. 135 



logical experiences. It was the fifth of April, and 

 the sun shone brightly through the fretwork of 

 overarching branches. Two yellow-bellied wood- 

 peckers were chasing each other about in the 

 woods. They were a beautiful sight as they went 

 sliding up the trunks of the trees, their variegated 

 figures sharply outlined against the gray bark. 

 Around and around, now about the stem of a 

 sapling, now from tree to tree, they raced and pur- 

 sued each other, making the sylvan spot glance 

 and twinkle with black and white. It was not a 

 quarrel at all ; only a frolic ; for the moment they 

 would lose sight of each other, one would cry : 

 u ■[yji.f,.e.r.r, wh-e-e-r-r ? '' and the other would 

 respond : " H-e-r-r-e-ah ! li-e-r-r-e-ah ! " Then when 

 they had found each other, they would exclaim in 

 low, caressing tones: " W-e-e-k-ah! w-e-e-k-ah ! '' 

 Sometimes they uttered a loud call somewhat like 

 the cry of the kingfisher, though not so shrill and 

 terrifying. For an hour I sat watching them play- 

 ing their pranks. 



Like all other woodpeckers, the yellow-bellied 

 beats his tattoo on the bark of a tree, or a hollow 

 limb. I have imagined that his drumming is much 

 coarser than that of his fellows, who help him to 

 fill the woods with their ra-ta-ta. At all events, I 



