The Arctic Three-toed Woodpecker 
at last, the fatal plunge into the nesting hole, and she was no sooner 
ensconced than the male appeared at the entrance and chuckled coax- 
ingly. His mate reappeared upon the instant and resigned her place 
without parley. The male entered, remained a moment, came out again, 
squirmed consciously, tried to clear his throat, achieved some raucous 
remark about the state of the weather, then bravely dived into the hole 
again —and stayed. He flew when we were half way up the tree—those 
pine stubs often boast a bristling array of dead branches which are as easy 
to climb as a flight of stairs—and he shouted lustily as he went. His mate, 
however, had evidently gone far afield, and when she did return she took 
the situation very complacently. 
We found a clean-cut round hole, one and a half inches in diameter, 
which gave admission to a cavity ten inches deep, and which had for its 
outer wall only the thick bark of the tree. Taking precaution for a pos¬ 
sible future for the woodpecker family, we enlarged the entrance care¬ 
fully and discovered two young birds, perhaps three days old, and a sterile 
egg. The youngsters were singularly long-geared and scrawny-looking 
individuals. Their eyes were still tight shut, but they were clamorous to 
a fault, and vigorous enough,—insomuch that they stood on tiptoe in the 
nest, by dint of steadying themselves against the walls. 
It was the male parent again who first ventured back to inspect the 
nest with its patched-up entrance, while his mate remained timorously 
in the distance. Not till after a thousand feints and wrestlings with his 
fears did the bird finally thrust his head in at the entrance; and when he 
did so, he nearly turned a somersault backward in astonishment—at what, 
I do not know, unless it was to find the sterile egg gone. We really didn’t 
need this bauble, for though it was polished like a pocket-piece, a single 
egg isn’t much better than a chip for a souvenir. Besides that, its 
“interior redemption” presented something of a problem. Ancient eggs 
are some smelly. He could have had it for all of us. Not for fifteen 
minutes thereafter did that outrageous fowl return, yet there were those 
same little young ones clamoring all that time for their papa—not to 
mention their useless mother—and we were a hundred yards away. Talk 
about nerves! We left in disgust. 
No. 195 
Arctic Three-toed Woodpecker 
A. O. U. No. 400. Picoides arcticus (Swainson). 
Synonym. —Black-backed Three-toed Woodpecker. 
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