THE WOODPECKER, 
43 
to the interior of a tree, fills its centre with decay; and if a 
perforation be made through the trunk, so as to let out the con- 
tained fluid, gallon after gallon of dark brown water will gush 
forth, mixed with fragments of decayed wood, and betray, by 
its volume and consistency, the extent of the damage which it 
has occasioned. 
Oftentimes a large fungus will start from a tree, and in some 
mysterious manner will sap the life-power of the spot on which 
it grows. When the fungus falls in the autumn, it leaves 
scarcely a trace of its presence, the tree being apparently as 
healthy as before the advent of the parasite. But the whole 
character of the wood has been changed by the strange power 
of the fungus, being soft and cork-like to the touch. Although 
the eye of man cannot readily perceive the injury, the instinct 
of the Woodpecker soon leads the bird to the spot, and it is 
in this dead, soft, and spongy wood that the burrow is made. 
Mr. Waterton, who, I believe, was the first to point out this fact, 
has shown me many examples of the fungus and its ravages 
among his trees, several fine ash-trees and sycamores having 
been reduced to mere stumps by the silent operation of the 
vegetable parasite. 
The pickaxe-like beak of the Woodpecker finds no difficulty 
in making its way through the decayed wood, and thus the bird 
is enabled to excavate its burrow without very much trouble. 
The nest itself can scarcely be called by that name, being 
nothing more than a collection of the smaller chips which have 
fallen to the extremity of the tunnel while the bird was engaged 
in the task of excavating. The burrow of the Woodpecker is 
as unpleasantly odorous as that of the kingfisher. The eggs 
are pure white. 
