ALONG THE BROOK IN MARCH 217 



seemed freshly made and these were the only ones 

 on the tree. The bark of an evergreen near by 

 was fairly riddled with similar holes — as far up as 

 the eye could reach were these rows of little holes, 

 made, as I had already learned, by the downy wood- 

 pecker during his many winters here. I saw one 

 at work along this path one year in January. A 

 very industrious creature he seems, busily picking 

 off flakes of bark in the hope of finding some 

 larvae hidden beneath it. His soft gray sides were 

 set off by the jaunty red of his head feathers. He 

 seems very self-sufficient as he braces himself 

 against the tree trunk, literally sitting on his stiff 

 tail, while his beak is busy. Since March is too 

 early for the real sap-sucker to stop here, these 

 flowing wells on the beech tree must have been 

 made by the little downy woodpecker. I doubt if 

 he made them in insect hunting this time ; I dare 

 say he likes a drink of fresh sap now and then. 



From just below the path I watched the Mourn- 

 ing Cloak. I could see the arching probosis as it 

 was lifted daintily now and then over the rough 

 bark. The hungry creature was fairly "up to its 

 elbows" in the sweet flood. I crept nearer to get 

 a better view, giving small heed to my footing. 

 Crash ! When I picked myself up out of a clump 

 of deceptive bushes the butterfly was sailing afar 

 off. I had to content myself with a close exami- 

 nation of the woodpecker's work. It had drilled six 

 or eight holes in the tree, in a regular row, as if 

 it had started to girdle the trunk. The sap welled 

 out and I wished for more butterflies and squirrels 



