274 CHAPTERS ON THE NATURAL HISTORY 



ing everything living I could lay my hands on in those days, the 

 thought occurred to me that to make a picture of these nestling 

 woodpeckers would be a unique idea. My son, upon climbing the 

 barkless trunk of the dead tree, and examining the nest as well as 

 could be done by listening at the entrance, for it was too deep to 

 reach with the arm and hand, the conclusion was arrived at that 

 the eggs had not as yet been hatched, so we withdrew to await 

 that event. 



About a fortnight afterward we returned to the spot, and a 

 second examination convinced us that the nest contained young. 

 By standing on a slippery limb that branched out below the hole 

 of entrance, and by the laborious use of a small hatchet, my boy 

 cut that old tree in two well below the nest, after nearly an 

 hour's constant chopping. Down it toppled with a rush, break- 

 ing into several pieces in its fall, but in such manner that w r e 

 were enabled to carry home the entire portion containing the 

 nest and the young. 



There were seven of these latter, and, as I have said, they were 

 surely the oddest looking creatures alive. They varied some- 

 what in point of size and in gradation, the smallest one being not 

 more than two-thirds the size of the biggest fellow, which I took 

 to be a male. They were a lively flesh-color in hue, and feather- 

 less, all to the pinfeathers of the feather tracts, which, by the 

 way, showed the woodpecker pattern most beautifully, being full 

 of interest to the pterylographist, or to the one who describes the 

 different feather tracts upon the bodies of birds. Their eyes had 

 not as yet opened, and their necks were long and snake-like, and 

 none too strong to balance their big heads. Another very remark- 

 able feature was the chalky, hard, knob-like growth at either 

 angle of the mouth, and I am quite unable to say anything about 

 the origin of this protuberance, or its use; it is well known, of 

 course, that it gradually disappears as the birds grow, and in the 

 fully feathered nestling it has about all disappeared. 



This brood was placed in a suitable box, half full of dry saw- 

 dust, and the entire lot huddled together down in one of the 

 corners. Assuredly to the eye they presented a curious, tangled 

 mass, that kept up a continuous shivering motion, accompanied 

 by an unharmonious baby-picine snoring, low in pitch, peculiar in 

 nature, and that could be heard for some little distance from the 

 box. 



Upon the slightest disturbance in their neighborhood, each 



