A friend of mine in a Southern city tells me of a red-headed woodpecker
that drums upon a lightning-rod on his neighbor's house. Nearly every
clear, still morning at certain seasons, he says, this musical rapping
may be heard. "He alternates his tapping with his stridulous call, and
the effect on a cool, autumn-like morning is very pleasing."
The high-hole appears to drum more promiscuously than does the downy.
He utters his long, loud spring call, whick--whick--whick--whick, and
then begins to rap with his beak upon his perch before the last note
has reached your ear. I have seen him drum sitting upon the ridge of
the barn. The log cock, or pileated woodpecker, the largest and
wildest of our Northern species, I have never heard drum. His blows
should wake the echoes.
When the woodpecker is searching for food, or laying siege to some
hidden grub, the sound of his hammer is dead or muffled, and is heard
but a few yards. It is only upon dry, seasoned timber, freed of its
bark, that he beats his reveille to spring and wooes his mate.
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