WOODPECKER LIFE 



ON the thirteenth of July a red-mutched descendant of 

 the unfortunate Gertrude knocked on the stricken 

 bough of a lofty elm to crave of the Dryad within 

 hospitality for a season. Yes, her wish would be granted, 

 but only on condition that she would dig out a shelter for 

 herself there in the hard, dry wood, in fulfilment of the 

 ancient curse. 



What had gone wrong in the woodpecker family that 

 she was in need of shelter this late in the year? Earlier in the 

 summer she and her mate had burrowed out a comfortable 

 home in a great oak tree not two hundred yards away. Then 

 they were on the best of terms and had relieved each other 

 at the task of digging out their dwelling place. Twenty or 

 twenty-five minutes at a time was thought long enough for 

 either of them to devote to so laborious a task in the spring- 

 time; then the other spent an equal time at the work, while 

 the one off duty hurried away to partake of refreshments or 

 to seek rest in change of occupation. 



Then there seemed to be some joy in their lives, for when 

 they had occasionally found time for recreation, they had 

 chased each other around the tree trunks and given utterance 

 to their enjoyment of the game in many a peal of cackling 

 laughter. Near the base of a tree the game began, and, 

 spirally, round and round its trunk, they pursued each other, 

 the one in the lead every now and then casting a challenging 



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