56 OUR FRIENDS, THE BIRDS. 
And when with golden mists 
Is hazed the sun 
And lover’s moonlight trysts 
In dales are done, 
He sounds his call 
To fall, 
A ringing one. 
When seres the lone last leaf 
Upon its stem, 
And barren days and brief 
Our vision hem, 
Then to the year 
We hear 
His requiem. 
QUESTIONS. 
Have you ever observed any of the queer antics of 
the Woodpecker ? 
If you were a bird which nest would you prefer, 
the Oriole’s swinging hammock, or the Woodpecker’s 
nest in a tree trunk? 
Tell something, or give a quotation, about the 
Woodpecker. 
