THE WOODPECKER 



The Drummer Bird. 



My dear girls and boys : 



The man who told me to keep 

 still and look pleasant while he 

 took my picture said I might 

 write you a letter to send with 

 it. You say I always keep on 

 the other side of the tree from 

 you. That is because someone 

 has told you that I spoil trees, 

 and I am afraid that you will 

 want to punish me for it. I do 

 not spoil trees. The trees like 

 to have me come to visit them, 

 for I eat the insects that are 

 killing them. Shall I tell you 

 how I do this? 



I cling to the tree with my 

 strong claws so sharply hooked. 

 The pointed feathers of my tail 

 are stiff enough to help hold me 

 against the bark. Then my 

 breast bone is quite flat, so that 

 I may press close to the tree. 

 When I am all ready you hear 

 my r-r-rap just like a rattle. 

 My head goes as quickly as if it 

 were moved by a spring. Such 

 a strong, sharp bill makes the 



chips fly! The tiny tunnel I dig 

 just reaches the insect. 



Then I thrust out my long 

 tongue. It has a sharp, horny 

 tip, and has barbs on it too. 

 Yery tiny insects stick to a liquid 

 like glue that covers my tongue. 

 I suppose I must tell you that I 

 like a taste of the ripest fruit 

 and grain. Don't you think I 

 earn a little when I work so 

 hard keeping the trees healthy? 



I must tell you about the deep 

 tunnel my mate and I cut out of 

 a tree. It is just wide enough 

 for us to slip into. It is not 

 straight down, but bent, so that 

 the rain cannot get to the bot 

 tom. There we make a nest of 

 little chips for our five white 

 eggs. 



I should like to tell you one 

 of the stories that some boys 

 and girls tell about my red head. 

 You will find it on another page 

 of the book. Now I must fly 

 away to peck for more bugs. 



Your loving friend, 



WOODPECKER. 



4 6 



