a few rods off. I said to myself, "Some one is building a house." From
what I had previously seen, I suspected the builder to be a red-headed
woodpecker, in the top of a dead oak stub near by. Moving cautiously
in that direction, I perceived a round hole, about the size of that
made by an inch-and-a-half auger, near the top of the decayed trunk,
and the white chips of the workman strewing the ground beneath. When
but a few paces from the tree, my foot pressed upon a dry twig, which
gave forth a very slight snap. Instantly the hammering ceased, and a
scarlet head appeared at the door. Though I remained perfectly
motionless, forbearing even to wink till my eye smarted, the bird
refused to go on with his work, but flew quietly off to a neighboring
tree. What surprised me was, that amid his busy occupation down in
the heart of the old tree he should have been so alert and watchful as
to catch the slightest sound from without.

The woodpeckers all build in about the same manner, excavating the
trunk or branch of a decayed tree, and depositing the eggs on the fine
fragments of wood at the bottom of the cavity. Though the nest is not
especially an artistic work,--requiring strength rather than
skill,--yet the eggs and the young of few other birds are so
completely housed from the elements, or protected from their natural
enemies--the jays, crows, hawks, and owls. A tree with a natural
cavity is never selected, but one which has been dead just long enough
to have become soft and brittle throughout. The bird goes in
horizontally for a few inches, making a hole perfectly round and
smooth and adapted to his size; then turns downward, gradually
enlarging the hole, as he proceeds, to the depth of ten, fifteen,
twenty inches, according to the softness of the tree and the urgency
of the mother bird to deposit her eggs. While excavating, male and
female work alternately. After one has been engaged fifteen or twenty