2 2 IN BIRD LAND. 



me, and did it several times. He would dash to 

 some twigs, balance before them a moment on the 

 wing, pick a nit or a worm from a dead leaf-clump, 

 and then swing back to his upright perch. Once 

 he found a grain of corn in a pocket of the bark, 

 placed there, perhaps, by a nuthatch; but he did 

 not seem to care for johnny-cake, and so he dropped 

 it back into the pocket. How cunningly he canted 

 his head and peered into the crannies of the bark 

 for grubs, calling, Chack 1 chack / 



During the entire winter he uttered only this 

 harsh, stirring note, half jocose, half spiteful ; but, 

 greatly to my surprise, when spring arrived, espe- 

 cially if the weather happened to be pleasant, he 

 began to call, K-t-r-r! k-t-r-r ! precisely like a 

 red-headed woodpecker ; indeed, at first I laid 

 siege to every tree, looking in vain for a red-head 

 come prematurely northward, until I discovered the 

 trick of my winter intimate, the red-bellied wood- 

 chopper. Why it should have been so I cannot 

 explain ; but whenever a cold wave struck this lati- 

 tude during the spring, he would invariably revert 

 to his harsh Chack! chack! and then when the 

 breezes grew balmy again, he would resume his 

 other reveille, making the woods echo. I also dis- 

 covered — it was a discovery to myself, at least — 

 that the red-bellied is a drummer, like most of his 

 relatives; but not once did he thrum his merry 

 ra-ta-ta before spring arrived, — another avian 

 conundrum for the naturalist to beat his brains 

 against. 



