THE SIMPLE ART OF SAPSUCKING 89 



the tree falls at last, — dust to dust — ashes to 

 ashes. 



A sapsucker has been seen in early morning to 

 sink forty or fifty wells into the bark of a moun- 

 tain ash tree, and then to spend the rest of the 

 day in sidling from one to another, taking a sip 

 here and a drink there, gradually becoming more 

 and more lethargic and drowsy, as if the sap 

 actually produced some narcotic or intoxicating 

 effect. Strong indeed is the contrast between such 

 a picture and the same bird in the early spring, — 

 then full of life and vigour, drawing musical re- 

 verberations from some resonant hollow limb. 



Like other idlers, the sapsucker in its deeds of 

 gluttony and harm brings, if anything, more in- 

 jury to others than to itself. The farmers well 

 know its depredations and detest it accordingly, 

 but unfortunately they are not ornithologists, and 

 a peckerwood is a peckerwood to them; and so 

 while the poor downy, the red-head, and the hairy 

 woodpeckers are seen busily at work cutting the 

 life threads of the injurious borer larvae, the 

 farmer, thinking of his dying trees, slays them all 

 without mercy or distinction. The sapsucker is 

 never as confiding as the downy, and from a safe 

 distance sees others murdered for sins which are 

 his alone. 



But we must give sapsucker his due and admit 

 that he devours many hundreds of insects 

 throughout the year, and though we mourn the 



