In the early Spring, a pair of Downy Woodpeckers homesteaded a hole in the pecan tree. I watched them fight off Starlings and hoped they'd win. Eventually, the tree budded, and then filled with leaves, which left the woodpeckers unseen. Trying to see if they were there was fruitless.
On Sunday, while in the yard, I heard a bird sound that was familiar, but I couldn't remember what type it was. After a few minutes, I realized it was the fussing of the Downy Woodpeckers' and they were intent on making an intruder leave.
Eventually, a few doves flew away, and I caught a glimpse of one of the small woodpeckers. They were still homesteading, and I was content they'd stayed.
The mated pair of Red Belly Woodpeckers are a different story. They have no fear of any other bird, and will chase them away from the feed I place, when they call from the trees. They chase off any intruder, and will spend long minutes eating the oranges placed in a cage on a tree.
My father loved to watch birds. I never realized why, until the last few years. Birds are remarkably intelligent, take care of their family, and woodpeckers have become my favorite. I hope a few Red Headed Woodpeckers will eventually come, like those I watched when I was young. They'll add to the families of woodpeckers I love to watch.
In Case You've Wondered
My blog is where my wandering thoughts are interspersed with stuff I made up. So, if while reading you find yourself confused about the context, don't feel alone. I get confused, too.
If you're here for the stories, I started another blog: scratchingforchange.blogspot.com
One other thing: sometimes I write words you refuse to use in front of children, or polite company, unless you have a flat tire, or hit your thumb with a hammer.
I don't use them to offend; I use them to embellish.