THE RED-HEADED WOODPECKER. 355 
In selecting a nesting site the birds usually keep to the dead tops of forest 
trees, such as those shown in the illustration, but from this rule there is almost 
every conceivable departure. Large dead branches are sometimes chosen, in 
which case the entrance is made on the under side of the limb. Holes are some- 
times dug in living trees, at the cost, of course, of prodigious labor. Telegraph 
and telephone poles are coming more and more into favor. Dr. Howard 
Jones once called my attention to a rather small telephone pole standing on his 
grounds in Circleville, which contained eleven nesting holes, of which three 
had been used that season, being occupied by Red-headed Woodpeckers, 
Flickers, and Bluebirds. 
Eggs to the number of five or six are deposited late in May, and the 
young are hatched about the middle of June. In occasional instances two 
broods are raised. These Woodpeckers are very devoted to their offspring, 
but according to Dr. Jones, they do not observe the care in feeding the young 
that is usual with most birds. ‘In every brood there is one bird older and 
stronger than the rest, and this one is sure to be on top and get his head to 
the hole first, when the old ones come with food. Being stronger at the start 
than his brothers and sisters, and each day getting more food, he gains more 
strength; and, gaining more strength he gets each day more food. While 
this double-acting system progresses, the reverse is happening to his mates, 
until in extreme cases they actually die of starvation, and are not even carried 
out of the nest by the parents.” 
THE WOODPECKER. 
He’s the sassiest critter that ever I see! 
An’ he sets there a-peekin’ an’ bobbin’ at me, 
While he’s carvin’ a notch in the wind-shaky crotch 
©’ that moss-covered hickory tree. 
Dinged if ever I see such a tormentin’ bird! 
When I woke up this mornin’, the first thing I heard 
Was his “rubby-dub-dub” on an ol’ holler stub— 
‘Fore the other fowls twittered ‘r stirred. 
See ‘im set there a-peckin’ that worm-eaten limb, 
An’ a-winkin’ at me as I'm talkin’ 0’ him; 
While his hard bullet head shinin’ glossy an’ red 
Drives a bill like a thorn, black an’ slim. 
Seems in teasin’ a feller he takes a delight; 
An’ he'd rather be killed in a one-sided fight, 
Than to give up the grub he has found in that stub— 
*R to show the white feather, in flight. 
