Tales from a West Michigan Wood
by Carol Doeringer
I wondered if she knew who was drumming nearby.
Woodpeckers drum for several reasons. Pairs signal each other during courtship, or when approaching to take a shift in the nest. But it was late September, not April. This was no time to begin a brood in Michigan.
Thrum-m-m-m-m. Another drumroll.
The lady peered around the curve of the tree. She seemed to be searching.
This past spring, I watched Hairy Woodpecker parents feed their nestlings. They would fly to the door of the tree cavity, poke their heads and torsos inside, and shake. All I could see was tail feathers bobbing rapidly as the parents pushed and the babies pulled to swallow the regurgitated food. After a couple of weeks, though, the tail movement stopped, even though the parents were still flying to the tree cavity every hour or so.
I worried: Had mom and dad stopped feeding the kids?
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