40 
ORNITHOLOGIST 
[Yol. 13-No. 3 
From old, hollow chestnut stub. Mr. Raws?* 
says : “ Ehove female out as usual. Nintlyyear 
from this' bird. Only one set of two y! 1885. 
A set of two, March 18, 1880; tenth/^ear and 
forty eggs in all from this one fjmaale. Not 
seen in 1887.” Two eggs, fre^tf: 1.92x1.67; 
1.92x1.66. / 
Set XXII. April 18, lSSy^ Preston, Conn. 
Collected by “J. M. wN/Nest in large chest- 
nut stub. This is a secphd set, as first set was 
found March 26, 1885/ A third set was found 
May 9th. This owj/forinerly^allowed Mr. Raw- 
son to handle her/while sitting^ but she after- 
wards became jnore timid, and flew out when 
disturbed. TJfree eggs, fresh : 1.88^x1.67; 1.91 
xl.69; 1.98.x 1.66. 
Set XXIII. March 28, 1886. Norwich, Conn. 
Collected!' by “J. M. W.” Heavily fathered 
old nest in chestnut. In trying to secure the 
bright young male, Mr. Rawson shot the fe- 
male, which looked as if it was moulting. No 
more eggs were found in the oviduct ready for 
extrusion. Two eggs, fresh: 1.96x1.61; 1.96 
x 1.62. — J. P. N.] 
Following the Logcock. 
BY R. B. MCLAUGHLIN, STATESVILLE, N. C. 
I had hoped to secure some additional sets of 
eggs of the Pileated Woodpecker or Logcock 
(Hylotomus pileatus ) , during the season of 1877, 
but X was disappointed. The nest is most 
easily found while it is being excavated, so I 
determined on April 9th as an an opportune 
time to explore the woods. Leaving at or 
about 6.30 a. m., I had gone scarcely a half 
mile into the nearest wood when I heard the 
noisy notes of II. pileatus, and had no difficulty 
in following them up. I had passed through 
some rather dense undergrowth and stepped 
into a road, when, quite unexpectedly, I flushed 
two pairs of the birds but a few rods apart, and 
had got within easy gunshot of them. 
As they chose different directions, my search 
was restricted to a single pair. Now, when I 
am following a bird for the purpose of seeing 
it go to the nest, I cannot say that I approve of 
the bird’s wanting to follow me about; but the 
Logcock does not follow the collector, nor does 
he care to have the collector following him. 
Owing to the previous surprise, however, this 
pair was so unusually hard to approach that I 
was encouraged and indeed grateful if I got in 
sight of them in time to see them fly . Having 
to”do so mainly by ear, however, I concluded 
that better luck could be had if I went after the 
other pair, so I abandoned the pursuit, and. re- 
tracing my steps, followed the course in which 
the others had flown. ’They had not gone far, 
and when the bird called his mate, he perhaps 
noted with some spleen that I answered. These, 
too, were sufficiently wary. Lured on by my 
zeal, however, I followed the birds the greater 
part of the forenoon, but with no success. 
On April 16th. having occasion to be in the 
same piece of woodland, I heard a Logcock 
braying — for surely he could not have been 
singing — as though that were his only mission 
here, but when I appeared on the scene he was 
conspicuous for his noise in a neighboring 
woods. 
Now another had joined him. and the two 
made the woods reverberate with some of the 
noisest notes of the woodpecker dialect. As I 
approached, however, they abrubtly stopped 
and all was still. On entering the woods, I 
saw a Logcock leave a tree, and, perfectly 
mute, disappear. Seating myself on the bank 
of a brook and waiting for a time, I saw another 
light upon a tree some distance away. Seeing 
nothing more I concluded the bird was at home, 
and I started after it. On climbing the hill, I 
saw some bits of wood scattered on the ground, 
which told the tale. I looked for a dead tree 
but in vain. I saw a round, smoothly-cut hole 
in the body of a Spanish Oak, yet the tree was 
turning out full foliage, and had not a dead 
branch. Needless to say I rapped on the crunk, 
and anxiously watched for the appearance of 
the bird's head at the hole above. I was not 
disappointed, however I beckoned the lady to 
climb out of her domicile, in lieu of which, 
she — wondrous tame now — returned the affront 
by utterly ignoring the signal, and eyeing me 
in a way that seemed to question my honesty 
and dispute my right of invasion. I then 
tapped on the tree with a club and she came 
out. An examination of the wood particles 
thrown out showed that they had not been ex- 
posed to the weather, which convinced me that 
the cavity was yet unfinished. Returning on 
the 21st, I found the bird in. Apprehensive of 
incubated eggs, I immediately started back for 
my climbers, a small saw, and a hand-axe. 
On my return the bird was again in. I tied 
a string to the saw and axe, threw it around 
my neck, allowing them to rest on my back, 
buckled on my climbers, and climbed up. 
The nest was about sixty feet up, and the 
trees fairly well limbed, after the first twenty 
feet. I got my arm partially in the hole, but 
could not adapt it to the winding direction it 
Mar. 1888.J 
AND OOLOGIST. 
41 
took. Finding the use of the saw also impera- 
tive, I took the axe and set in. The nest con- 
tained two eggs, quite fresh ; so the set was in- 
complete. After the birds had bored through 
two inches of solid live wood, they found the 
interior white and soft. How did they know 
the trees were decomposing? I should say by the 
sound produced when they rapped on it with 
their bills. 
In April 1886, while walking through a piece 
of woodland, I saw a Logcock light upon a 
dead oak, and hopping up nearly to the top, 
he gave a sharp rap. His mate came out of a 
hole a little above, and flew away ; then he went 
in, but whether he intended to work or was only 
curious to know what his wife had been doing, 
I do not know. It is probable, however, that 
he assists her. 
Not having the time to while away, it was a 
week later and growing dark when I returned, 
so I felt sure if the bird had completed the 
set she would then be in. She was. I called 
the following day and found her at home. The 
nest was about forty-five feet high, and the 
sight of the tree made me rather nervous. It 
was nearly three feet in diameter and had but 
one limb, which being “ shaky,” contributed 
much by way of picturesque effect, but very 
little to my support. However, a laborious 
climb brought me, with bleeding wrists, to the 
Woodpecker’s door, and confident the full 
number had been laid, I cut through the well- 
decayed wood. Well, as hard luck would have 
it, not a single egg had been deposited. I have 
since frightened the Downy Woodpecker out of 
her nest after sunset, and cut in to find no eggs ; 
so it would seem the habit of remaining over 
night in the unfinished cavity is common with 
the Picidoe. 
Farmers have told me of nests of this bird 
within ten feet from the ground, but I have 
never found them near so low. The remaining 
nests found by me are represented below : 
No. 1. About seventy-five feet high in an oak. 
Saw parent feeding young. 
No. 2. In oak forty-five or fifty feet up. Took 
set of five eggs. 
No. 3. In maple thirty-five feet up. A fair 
tree to climb but quite a distance from home, 
and the nest not finished. Did not return. 
No. 4. About forty-five feet up in ash, with- 
out bark or limbs; and weather-bleached. 
Walked around it a great deal but never climbed 
up. 
No. 5. About eighty feet high, in a frightful 
oak. Did not disturb it. 
The shell of the egg is clear in the first state 
of incubation, and the blood in the embryo 
veins within is clearly visible. It retains its 
semi-transparency for some hours after being 
blown, and then gradually dons the white pol- 
ish of the cabinet specimen. The complement 
ranges from four to six. No nest, properly 
speaking, is made, but some fine chips are left 
at the bottom of the excavation, on which the 
eggs are deposited. 
The Logcock is a strikingly handsome bird, 
and his lord-like demeanor would indicate he is 
fully conscious of it. When flying, the white 
on his wings is shown in pleasing contrast to 
his dtherwise dark plumage. His large head is 
attached to his body by an almost thread-like 
neck, but it has no comic effect. He has sev- 
eral ways of winding his horn, all producing a 
respectable racket. His rapidly reiterated put ! 
put ! put-it ! put-it ! put-it ! may be heard 
throughout the year. Mrs. Logcock, too, can 
“ make the welkin ring” when disposed. 
One who has only seen the stuffed bird in 
the museum has but a vague conception of the 
force of his stroke. When seen in his native 
haunts, throwing bark from a dead tree, or 
hammering on a live one, it truly seems a case 
of “Woodman spare that tree.” Yet it is for 
the good of the forest, not the wanton exercise 
of a destructive tool. He will go as the forest 
goes, and the scientist may impose what he will 
on the taxidermist, but as nature deprives a 
bird of its office, she will deprive us of our 
bird. 
Ever on the alert, the Logcock is hard to 
shoot, and unless ambushed or shot at first 
sight, it is well to make a list of him with your 
game for another day, for if once chased or 
frightened, he. must have a good night’s repose 
to efface the recollection of it. 
This woodpecker seems to be better prepared 
for continued flight than the smaller ones, 
while the characteristic woodpecker flap and 
dip is recognizable. That decided and appar- 
ently fatiguing way of jumping through the 
air, so conspicuously noticeable in the flight of 
Picus pubescens and other diminutive species of 
the genus, appears to be wanting in the flight of 
this bird. It is generally seen in couples, at all 
seasons, and perhaps pairs for life. Once com- 
mon in our county, it will soon be listed with 
the rare species ; nor does it occasion surprise 
that such should be the case when one is ap- 
prised of the strange ways in which the bird is 
sometimes abused. I believe no one has killed 
it in order to obtain its legs for pipe stems, as 
it is alleged the mariners did the Dodo, but I 
am told by old sportsmen that it was a once not 
