558 A CAPTIVE WOODPECKER 



the deeper does it make its hole. The average diameter of the different nests which 

 I have examined was about seven inches within, although the entrance, which is perfectly 

 round, is only just large enough to admit the bird. 



Both birds work most assiduously at this excavation, one waiting outside to encourage 

 the other whilst it is engaged in digging, and when the latter is fatigued, taking its place. 

 I have approached trees whilst these Woodpeckers were thus busily employed in forming 

 their nest, and by resting my head against the bark could easily distinguish every blow 

 given by the bird. I observed that in two instances, when the Woodpeckers saw me thus 

 at the foot of the tree in which they were digging their nest, they abandoned it for ever. 

 For the first brood there are general!) six eggs. They are deposited in a few chips at the 

 bottom of the hole, and are of a pure white colour. The young are seen creeping out of 

 the hole about a fortnight before they venture to fly to any other tree. The second brood 

 makes its appearance about the 15th of August." 



The courage and determination of the Ivory-billed Woodpecker is very great, and it 

 will tight with its opponent in a most desperate manner. When wounded, it endeavours 

 to reach the nearest tree, and to run up its trunk, and if intercepted will peck as fiercely 

 at the hand of its pursuer as at the wood and bark, and is able to inflict severe injury with 

 its sharp powerful bill. On account of this bold and fiery disposition, the American 

 Indians pay much honour to the bird, and are in the habit of carrying its head and bill 

 among the numerous charms or "medicines" in which they delight, and which are 

 supposed to transmit to the wearer the good qualities of the slain creature. 



The voice of this Woodpecker is seldom uttered while the bird is on the wing, but is 

 frequently heard as soon as the bird has alighted. It is a rather shrill and very loud 

 tone, and can be heard at a great distance. 



The cry of the wounded bird is, according to Wilson, just like that of a hurt child. 

 " The first place I observed this bird at, when on my way to the south, was aoout twelve 

 miles north of Wilmington, in North Carolina. Having wounded it slightly in the wing, 

 on being caught, it uttered a loudly reiterated and most piteous note, exactly resembling 

 the violent crying of a young child, which terrified my horse so, as nearly to have 

 cost me my life. 



It was distressing to hear it. I carried it with me in the chair, under cover, to 

 Wilmington. In passing through the streets, its affecting cries surprised every one within 

 hearing, particularly the females, who hurried to the doors and windows with looks of 

 alarm and anxiety. I drove on, and on arriving at the piazza of the hotel where 

 I intended to put up, the landlord came forward, and a number of other persons who 

 happened to be there, all equally alarmed at what they heard ; this was greatly increased 

 by my asking, whether he could furnish me with accommodations for myself and my baby. 

 The man looked blank and foolish, while the others stared with still greater astonishment. 

 After diverting myself for a minute or two at their expense, I drew my Woodpecker from 

 under the cover, and a general laugh took place. 1 took him upstairs, and locked him 

 up in my room, while I went to see my horse taken care of. 



In less than an hour I returned, and on opening the door, he set up the same 

 distressing shout, which now appeared to proceed from grief that he had been discovered 

 in his efforts at escape. He had mounted along the side of the window, nearly as high as 

 the ceiling, a little below which he had begun to break through. The bed was covered 

 with large pieces of plaster ; the lath was exposed for at least fifteen inches square, and a 

 hole large enough to admit the fist, opened to the weather boards ; so that in less than 

 another hour he would certainly have succeeded in making his way through. I now tied 

 a string round his leg, and fastening it to the table, again left him. I wished to preserve 

 his life, and had gone off in search of suitable food for him. As I reascended the stairs, 

 I heard him again hard at work, and on entering had the mortification to perceive that he 

 had almost entirely ruined the mahogany table to which he was fastened, and on which 

 he had wreaked his whole vengeance. While engaged in taking a drawing, he cut me 

 severely in several places, and on the whole displayed such a noble and unconquerable 

 spirit, that I was frequently tempted to restore him to his native woods. He lived with 

 me nearly three days, but refused all sustenance, and I witnessed his death with regret." 



