28 American Birds 



into the first warm, springlike day, he and his wife have 

 a wooden house well near its completion. Last spring 

 when I first discovered the brand-new hole at the top of 

 the stump, the lady of the house sidled around the tree 

 like a bashful school-girl, always keeping on the opposite 

 side and peeking around the curve. 



Few birds have larger families than high-hole. But, 

 were it not for the number of his family, how could he 

 hold his own among so many enemies? His conspicuous 

 size and color always draw the aim of the small boy's 

 gun, and every village lad in the land has collected flicker's 

 eggs. He is a fellow of resources, however. If his home 

 is robbed, his wife soon lays another set of eggs. It is 

 on record that one pair, when tested by the removal of 

 egg after egg, laid seventy-one eggs in seventy-three days. 



In the hollowed heart of the punky fir on a bed of 

 fine wood bits, lay seven glossy eggs, inanimate, but full 

 of promise. They all had the vital flesh tinge of pink. 

 Each imprisoned a precious spark of life to be fanned 

 by the magic brooding of the mother's breast. 



Red-hammer had grown quite trustful. We got a 

 ladder twenty-five feet long which reached about up to 

 the nest. The eggs had been placed a foot and a half 

 below the round entrance. On the opposite side from the 

 entrance and on a level with the eggs, we sawed out a back 

 door, giving a good view of the living room and letting 

 in a little sunlight. With the camera ready to snap, firmly 

 fastened to a small board, we climbed the tree. Holding 

 it out to a measured distance, we aimed it downward at 

 the eggs. The first attempt came nearer landing camera 

 and all in a heap in the shallow water of the pond than 



