WINTER NEIGHBORS 143 



A woodpecker in my vicinity has drummed for two 

 seasons on a telegraph pole, and he makes the wires 

 and glass insulators ring. Another drums on a 

 thin board on the end of a long grape-arbor, and on 

 still mornings can be heard a long distance. 



A friend of mine in a Southern city tells me of 

 a red-headed woodpecker that drums upon a light- 

 ning-rod on his neighbor's house. Nearly every 

 clear, still morning at certain seasons, he says, this 

 musical rapping may be heard. "He alternates his 

 tapping with his stridulous call, and the effect on a 

 cool, autumn-like morning is very pleasing." 



The high-hole appears to drum more promiscu- 

 ously than does downy. He utters his long, loud 

 spring call, which — which — which — which, and 

 then begins to rap with his beak upon his perch 

 before the last note has reached your ear. I have 

 seen him drum sitting upon the ridge of the barn. 

 The log-cock, or pileated woodpecker, the largest 

 and wildest of our Northern species, I have never 

 heard drum. His blows should wake the echoes. 



When the woodpecker is searching for food, or 

 laying siege to some hidden grub, the sound of his 

 hammer is dead or muffled, and is heard but a few 

 yards. It is only upon dry, seasoned timber, freed 

 of its bark, that he beats his reveille to spring and 

 wooes his mate. 



Wilson was evidently familiar with this vernal 

 drumming of the woodpeckers, but quite misinter- 

 prets it. Speaking of the red-bellied species, he 

 says: "It rattles like the rest of the tribe on the 



