113 WASTE-LAXD WANDERINGS. 



never happen that a naturalist gives np the chase. Be- 

 lieving the bird was doing its best to avoid me, I deter- 

 mined to out-wit it. I turned tlie boat's bow inshore, 

 and was on the point of stepping out, when there was 

 the busy woodpecker almost at mj feet. But it was 

 not a bird. A curiously bent twig was caught and re- 

 leased by each j^assing ripple, and by its motion made 

 the tapping sound. I assumed at the outset that the 

 noise was made bv a bird, and so looked for it amono: 

 the branches of the tall trees. How unsafe it is to be 

 positive ; yet had I gone away without seeing a wood- 

 pecker, or learning the cause of the tapping, I could 

 never have been convinced that the bird was not where 

 I supposed it to be. 



Here, months earlier, however, I did see a beautiful 

 red-bellied woodpecker that came near out-witting me. 

 It was in a hollow tree, instead of upon it, and judghig 

 from the length of time it remained concealed, must 

 have found the cavernous hollow an excellent feeding 

 ground. 



This rare woodj^ecker has been slighted by ornitholo- 

 gists, or is a most prosaic, unentertaining bird. Wilson 

 states that it is not partial to fences, but loves tall trees. 

 Audubon says that it j^refers the forest to open country. 

 These facts will apply to nearly all of the family. 



Unlike many birds, this woodpecker shows no dispo- 

 sition to suit itself to circumstances, and just as steadily 

 as our laro^e trees are felled do thev decrease in numbers. 

 In this they resemble the red-headed woodpecker. I 

 have never found their nests ; but once, in midwinter, 

 discovered a pair industriously pecking a hole in a chest- 



