The Rambles of an Idler 



In a dead limb of a linden tree, near the 

 kitchen door, about thirty feet from the ground, 

 a pair of flickers — golden-winged woodpeckers 

 — ^have their nest. I think it was dug out in a 

 single night, for the white chips, like great snow- 

 flakes, covered the ground early one morning 

 and no one appeared to have seen or heard the 

 birds while at work. 



These woodpeckers are not at all shy, but 

 properly circumspect. They are nothing for 

 the rattle of pots and kettles beneath them. So 

 long as the latter keep to the ground, the flickers 

 will enter no protest. The fact is, and it is 

 true of all birds, that it is not always noise and 

 bustle that frighten, but the kind of disturb- 

 ance. They are quick to discover if any activ- 

 ity on man's part has to do with man's affairs 

 or is directed towards themselves. These door- 

 yard flickers were circumspect for a few days 

 and now they are tame. 



The house-wrens still nearer by may have 

 given them assurance that all was well, but this 

 is very doubtful. They are too far apart, struc- 

 turally, to associate, and intellectually very un- 

 equal. What queer birds are these wrens! I 

 could pick out a dozen excellent nesting sites for 



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