Another Woodpecker? Yes, there are such a tribe of us, you know; more than you can count on your fingers and toes, as my cousin the Red-Bellied Woodpecker said in the February number of BIRDS. The word toes reminds me that I am not one of the three-toed fellows he was so anxious to tell about. I have four, as you see, two before and two behind. So have most of the Woodpeckers. Should you be looking out for me this summer you will recognize me by my four toes, the white band down my back, and the two white stripes on the side of my head. My tongue you can’t see, but it is small, flat, short, and horny, armed along the edges with hooks. When I catch an insect I do it by throwing my tongue forward, out of my mouth. I have an idea the insects consider my treatment of them rather rough. If I didn’t eat them, the wood-boring ones, would destroy all the trees. My bill isn’t strong enough to bore in the hard wood; I only injure the bark, no matter what some people may say. The wood-eating beetles, caterpillars, spiders, daddy longlegs, grass-hoppers, and flies, are all grist for my mill — or bill, rather. I like beechnuts, too, when I can find them.

I’m the smallest of all the Woodpecker family, quiet and unobtrusive they say, in my manners. I am sociable, however, and go about a great deal in the company of other birds. Mr. Nuthatch, Mr. Brown Creeper, Mr. Titmouse, and Mr. and Mrs. Wren are my especial friends. Can I drum? Indeed, yes. I wouldn’t belong to the Woodpecker family if I couldn’t. All I need is the stub of a dead limb whose center is hollow and whose shell is hard and resonant. I will drum on that with my bill for an hour at a time, stopping now and then to listen for a response from my mate or a rival. Early in the spring, we “Downies” pick a hole in a dead tree, or in a post or rail of a fence, in which we lay four, five, or six glossy white eggs. Sometimes it takes us a whole week to chisel out that hole, and we are so busy that a little boy or little girl can get very near without our minding it.