January, 19Q0. 
Natural History Notes. 
63 
The second instance illustrates how a habit or instinct misdi- 
rected frequently ends disastrously. Mr. Geo. G. Phillips z.\so a 
member of the Wisconsin Natural History Society relates that for 
several days in December last he observed a downy woodpecker, 
Picus pubescens^ busily engaged enlarging a small hole in the side 
of a stable on his premises. Finally the hole appeared to be com- 
pleted and a few days afterwards, upon entering the stable in the 
morning he observed a bird fluttering feebly on the floor. It was 
easily captured and upon being set down again put its head be- 
neath its wing and appeared to sleep, but when Mr. Phillips re- 
turned shortly after with some food, it had fallen over and was 
dead. Evidently it had entered the building through the hole it 
had made and being unable to find any exit had perished for lack 
of suitable food and from the extreme cold that prevailed at the 
time. 
In the woods in winter time may easily be found numerous 
dead trees and stumps containing freshly made woodpecker holes 
that go inwards for a few inches and then downwards for eight 
inches or a foot. These, at least many of them, are the work of 
the downy woodpecker, and are probably used as sleeping places 
and as a retreat during storms. 
The particular bird mentioned had perhaps thought it had 
discovered a tree or stub of unusual dimensions, and its error had 
resulted in the way described. W. J. Bennetts. 
The Wild Animal Life of a Laf§:e City. 
Even in our crowded city, a few of our native wild animals 
manage to exist and to hold their own. The cotton tail rabbit, 
Lepus sylvaticus, is present among us in greater numbers than is 
generally supposed. In our parks they may be seen on moonlight 
nights ; and after a fall of show their tracks are easily to be found 
in many quarters of the city. The lumber yards and certain wil- 
low thickets near our rivers are their favorite haunts, but even 
in the resident quarter of the city they are not absent. On the 
East Side we have happened upon one during a dense fog one 
Sunday morning in early winter, and shortly afterwards found 
one that had been freshly killed by a Northwestern train near the 
North Avenue crossing. 
A red fox, Vtilpes z'ltlo^aris, was captured in October of this 
year in a chicken pen at Wells and Twenty-fifth Streets, which is 
a thickly peopled district ; and as poultry owners in that locality 
