66 EVERYDAY BIRDS 



pretty sure to find two or three flickers all winter 

 long about a certain farm, the stone walls of 

 which are overrun with this handsome but un- 

 wholesome vine, although it is hard to imagine 

 that the dry, stony fruit should yield much in 

 the way of nourishment, even to a woodpecker. 



As spring comes on, the flicker becomes 

 numerous and very noisy. His best known vocal 

 effort is a prolonged hi-hi-hi, very loud and ring- 

 ing, and kept up until the listener wonders where 

 the author of it gets his wind. This, I think, is 

 the bird's substitute for a song. He has at all 

 times a loud, unmusical yawp, a signal, I sup- 

 pose, and in the mating season especially he 

 utters a very affectionate, conversational wicker 

 or flicker. Every country boy should be familiar 

 with these three notes. 



But besides being a vocalist, we can hardly 

 call him a singer, the flicker is a player upon 

 instruments. He is a great drummer ; and if 

 any one imagines that woodpeckers do not enjoy 

 the sound of their own music, he should watch 

 a flicker drumming with his long bill on a bat- 

 tered tin pan in the middle of a pasture. Morn- 

 ing after morning I have seen one thus engaged, 

 drumming lustily, and then cocking his head to 

 listen for an answer; and Paderewski at his 

 daily practice upon the piano could not have 



