ZERO BIRDS 21 



to be an early-rising workman from whom I borrowed 

 some matches with which I finally discovered my 

 missing eyes half buried in the snow. I attacked the 

 pignut hickory with great energy to make up for 

 lost time. Little by little the axe bit through the 

 tough wood, until the kerf was well past the heart 

 of the tree. As I chopped I could hear the quick 

 strokes of a far better wood-cutter than I shall ever 

 be. Suddenly he gave a loud, rattling call, and I 

 recognized the hairy woodpecker. He is much larger 

 than the downy, being nearly the size of a robin, 

 while his call is wilder and louder and lacks the 

 downward run of the downy's note. We chopped on 

 together, he at his tree and I at mine. Suddenly 

 from my tree sounded a warning crack, and the 

 trunk wavered for a moment. I stepped well off to 

 one side, for it is dangerous to stand behind a falling 

 tree. If it strikes anything as it falls the trunk may 

 shoot backward. A venerable ancestor of mine, so 

 the story runs, tried to celebrate his ninetieth birth- 

 day by chopping down a tree, and standing behind 

 it, was killed by the back-lash of the falling trunk. 



The tree swayed forward toward the crimson rim 

 of the rising sun. One more stroke at its heart, and 

 there was a loud series of cracks, followed by a roar 

 like thunder as it crashed down. Almost immedi- 

 ately, as if awakened by the noise, I began to hear 

 bird-notes. From over to my left sounded a series 

 of sharp, irritating alarm-notes, and in the waxing 

 light I caught a glimpse of a crested blood-red bird 

 at the edge of a green-brier thicket. In that same 



