172 KNOWING BIRDS THROUGH* STORIES ; 



, V N 



from the pieces of wood they threw out, they must have 

 made their nest hole at least twelve or fourteen inches 

 deep. It was too high and too dangerous for me to attempt 

 to climb to it, but judging from many similar nicker nests 

 I have seen, it went into the side of the limb an inch or 

 so and then turned and ran downward. The hole in the 

 side of the limb was just large enough to admit a bird 

 nicely but was much larger inside, roomy enough, in fact, 

 to house both birds nicely, or even to hold a half dozen 

 full grown birds without overcrowding. The bottom was 

 rounded out a bit and a few feathers may have been car- 

 ried in, or they may have neglected this unnecessary work. 

 Before the middle of March the eggs were laid; perfectly 

 round eggs as white as alabaster and so transparent that 

 if you held one up to the light you could see the yolk 

 plainly through the shell. 



While the nest building was going on Picus never failed 

 to beat his drum every morning, and his good wife never 

 failed to show her pride in the fact that he was the most 

 powerful musician in all the woods. Evidently the great- 

 est feat a woodpecker can perform is to beat a long, loud, 

 rolling tattoo on his drum. Every male flicker, and every 

 male red-headed woodpecker for that matter, selects a 

 drumming place early in the spring and there he drums 

 every day through the breeding season. He will search for 

 hours and even days to find a place that is resonant; if 

 at any time during the summer he chances to find a place 

 where he can make more noise, he promptly forsakes the 

 first for it. 



As the boards on the comb of a house or barn are apt 

 to be the best sounding boards in the neighborhood wood- 

 peckers often choose these places for their morning song. 



