BIRD LEGEND AND LIFE 



When he is gone, the most accomplished songsters 

 are not missed more than the red-headed woodpecker, whose 

 broad patches of clear color enliven the wood. Though he 

 may no longer assist in the growth of the forest by bringing 

 refreshing showers, as he is said to have done in the long- 

 ago time, he certainly is doing much in his own way to pre- 

 serv'^e them. Well might the ancients have made a god of him. 

 He still possesses one of the gifts which won that honor for 

 him — ^the power of producing thunder — and in a way that 

 mortals can understand. Hear it rumbling among the dead 

 treetops, as the bird drtuns rapidly on the dry wood and sets 

 it to vibrating, then quicldy lays his hollow bill against it 

 to add resonance to the peal. Vulcan himself could not have 

 felt greater satisfaction than he, as he stops to listen, in con- 

 scious pride over his accomplishment. 



Whether he is a god made manifest in feathers, or merely 

 an old woman under a curse, expiating- the crime of selfish- 

 ness in picking up a living where there seems to be no life, 

 and in sharing this scant fare with the hungry, as we see this 

 bird with breast flattened and shoulders bent by hard work, 

 while our sympathies are awakened, we bless the day that 

 gave to the world this tireless little laborer of the wood. 



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