The California Woodpecker 
longer than they would upon the ground, and are probably good for more 
than one season. But the fact remains that the provision made is out 
of all proportion to any possible use. Chipmunks, California Jays, 
and other Woodpeckers, especially the Lewis, levy upon this horde as 
often as they dare; but the Californias are very zealous in defense, and 
do not hesitate to employ platoon tactics when threatened. The feud 
is especially sharp between the Californias and the Lewises, and one 
observer 1 tells how a wounded Lewis Woodpecker, escaping from the 
gunner, sought refuge in a California tree. The Californias set upon him 
promptly, and one of their number paid forfeit with his life, for, when 
the huntsman arrived he found the Lewis Woodpecker dead with two 
of his talons sunk into the California’s eyes and two in his pierced skull. 
But, again, why does the bird hoard treasure on this lavish, ir¬ 
rational scale? For exercise? Perhaps. To be doing something—for 
the same reason that a high school girl chews gum or a callow youth 
sucks cigarettes, a matron does embroidery, or a middle-aged gentleman 
of increasing girth trots after a twinkling white ball—to kill time. Pos¬ 
sibly, also, from force of habit. Following the blind urge of a provident 
instinct, the bird over-shoots the mark. Having no accurate criterion 
of judgment, or inhibitive power, it just goes on forever, working. 
It is not impossible, of course, that some ancestral experience of 
drought and famine has fastened this lesson of providence deep in the 
Balanosphyrine race; but it is much more probable that the species is 
hipped, and that it applies no more reason to its life than does an old 
miser who goes on hoarding gold. Be this as it may, the explanation 
what you will, the obsession of the California Woodpecker is undoubtedly 
one of the most pathetic things in nature. 
1 Howard W. Wright, “Condor,” Vol. X., p. 93. 
