HOW A FLICKER FEEDS HER YOUNG 25 



of woodpeckers, chickadees, and other birds nest- 

 ing habitually in holes in trees. When they were 

 older and their eyes were open, they made a clat- 

 ter much like the noise of a mowing-machine, 

 and loud enough to be heard thirty yards away. 



The father came at intervals of from twenty 

 to sixty minutes to feed the little ones. He 

 was very shy, and came so quietly that he would 

 be first seen when he alighted close by with a 

 low little laugh or a subdued but anxious call 

 to the young. " Here I am again ! " he laughed ; 

 or " Are you all right, children ? " he called to 

 them. " All right ! " they would answer, clat- 

 tering in concert like a two-horse mower. 



As soon as they heard him scratching on the 

 tree-trunk, up they would all clamber to the edge 

 of the nest and hold out their gaping mouths to 

 be fed. Each one was anxious to be fed first, 

 because there never was enough to go round. 

 There was always one that, like the little pig of 

 the nursery tale, " got none." When he came 

 to the nest, the father would look around a 

 moment, trying to choose the one he wanted to 

 feed first. Did he always pick out the poor little 

 one that had none the time before, I wonder ? 



After the old bird had made his choice, he 

 would bend over the little bird and drive his 

 long bill down the youngster's throat as if to 



