WANDERINGS IN SOUTH AMERICA 149 



sticks close to him wherever he goes. He has 

 many a kick and many a blow to bear on account 

 of it ; and there is nobody to stand up for him. 

 The woodpecker is little better off. The pro- 

 prietors of woods, in Europe, have long ac- 

 cused him of injuring their timber, by bor- 

 ing holes in it, and letting in the water, 

 which soon rots it. The colonists in Ajnerica 

 have the same complaint against him. Had he 

 the power of speech, which Ovid's birds possessed 

 in days of yore, he could soon make a defence. 

 ''Mighty lord of the woods," he would say to man, 

 "why do you wrongfully accuse me? why do you 

 hunt me up and down to death for an imaginary 

 offence ? I have never spoiled a leaf of your prop- 

 erty, much less your wood. Your merciless shot 

 strikes me, at the very time I am doing you a serv- 

 ice. But your shortsightedness will not let you 

 see it, or your pride is above examining closely 

 the actions of so insignificant a little bird as I am. 

 If there be that spark of feeling in your breast 

 which they say man possesses, or ought to possess, 

 above all other animals, do a poor injured creature 

 a little kindness, and watch me in your woods only 

 for one day. I never wound your healthy trees. 

 I would perish for want in the attempt. The sound 

 bark would easily resist the force of my bill : and 

 were I even to pierce through it, there would be 

 nothing inside that I could fancy, or my stomach 

 digest. I often visit them, it is true, but a knock 

 or two convinces me that I must go elsewhere for 

 support ; and were you to listen attentively to the 

 sound which my bill causes, you would know 

 whether I am upon a healthy or an unhealthy tree. 



