Part 24

"My home nest is that in the trunk of the old oak by the gate."

"It is very queer," said Phyllis. "Perhaps some other bird laid an egg in the woodpeckers' nest by mistake."

The small bird fluttered quite helplessly with laughter.

"Oh, no, Phyllis, I see I have to tell you all about it. I am a woodpecker, surely. But I am quite young yet. It is not a week since I had my first lesson in flying."

"You fly very well for a young bird," said Phyllis.

"Well, my mother is very wise," said the bird.

"She does not think it well for her babies to get out of the nest until they have grown quite large. She says that if we wait until our wings are strong we will not be so apt to fall into danger.

"So I remained inside the nest until I was quite a large, strong bird. Then my parents called me out and taught me to fly.

"Only yesterday I asked my mother why I did not wear a dress and cap like her own.

"She said, 'Wait a little longer, my child. When you are quite grown your cap will be as red as my own. You will look so much like your father and me that those children down there will be unable to tell us apart.'

"It is little wonder that you did not know me for a woodpecker in this simple gray dress. All woodpecker children, however, dress in this quiet fashion at first. I shall be happy when I get my gorgeous red cap."

"Well," said Phyllis, "I am very glad you came to see me. I knew there was a nest in the old oak-tree. I watched your father and mother one whole morning a few weeks ago. I think they chose the oak because of those old dead branches.

"I saw your mother brace herself against the tree with her stiff tail. Then how her wedge-shaped bill rapped and rapped against the wood. For fully twenty minutes she rapped away at the rotten wood. Then she grew tired and your father took her place at the tree-trunk.

"Soon they pecked a hole deep enough to hide them from sight, but their constant rap, rap, rap could still be heard.

"I wondered how deep they made the hole, but it was too high for me to climb to find out."

"Having just come from the nest I can tell you all about it," replied the young woodpecker. "My parents dug down into the soft trunk to a depth of perhaps eighteen inches. At the bottom they hollowed out a large roomy place for the nest. They did not line it with feathers or grasses. Instead of a bed of moss was a little sawdust and the smooth white sides of the oak.

"In this nest my mother laid six pure white eggs. She sat on them and kept them warm until at last six downy birds came out of the shells.

"We were hungry little things. Both our mother and father were kept busy filling our greedy, ever-open mouths.

"And whatever they brought was sure to be very nice. Sometimes it was a cherry or a berry, sometimes a bit of pear or apple.

"But, best of all, were the fat, juicy little grubs which they often brought.

"I asked my father where he got the grubs. He made fun of me and called out to my mother in his shrill, lively way.

"She said that that was a thing which every young woodpecker should find out for himself.

"After that, every time a fat grub was brought to me, I wondered if I should ever be able to find them when I began to shift for myself.

"At last my wings were strong enough and my parents called me out of the nest. I very soon found that the fat grubs lived beneath the bark of my own oak-tree. All I had to do was to strike my bill into the bark and bear off the prize."

"Were you sorry to leave your safe high nest?" asked Phyllis.

"Indeed it was not so safe," said the young woodpecker. "On the day that I left the nest a great black snake crept in. He swallowed my little brothers and sisters.

"My parents were wild with grief. They said that was the thing they always dreaded, that such things often happened in woodpeckers' nests."

"How sad!" said Phyllis. "I should never have thought of snakes!"