138 SIGNS AND SEASONS 



indifferent, after some delay he shows his head in 

 his round doorway about ten feet above, and looks 

 down inquiringly upon me, — sometimes latterly I 

 think half resentfully, as much as to say, "I would 

 thank you not to disturb me so often." After sun- 

 down, he will not put his head out any more when 

 I call, but as I step away I can get a glimpse of 

 him inside looking cold and reserved. He is a late 

 riser, especially if it is a cold or disagreeable morn- 

 ing, in this respect being like the barn fowls; it is 

 sometimes near nine o'clock before I see him leave 

 his tree. On the other hand, he comes home early, 

 being in, if the day is unpleasant, by four p. m. 

 He lives all alone; in this respect I do not com- 

 mend his example. Where his mate is, I should 

 like to know. 



I have discovered several other woodpeckers in 

 adjoining orchards, each of which has a like home, 

 and leads a like solitary life. One of them has 

 excavated a dry limb within easy reach of my hand, 

 doing the work also in September. But the choice 

 of tree was not a good one; the limb was too much 

 decayed, and the workman had made the cavity too 

 large; a chip had come out, making a hole in the 

 outer wall. Then he went a few inches down the 

 limb and began again, and excavated a large, com- 

 modious chamber, but had again come too near the 

 surface; scarcely more than the bark protected him 

 in one place, and the limb was very much weak- 

 ened. Then he made another attempt still farther 

 down the limb, and drilled in an inch or two, but 



