THE INDUSTRIOUS FLICKERS
If the Bad Boy who lived in the next block had known more about thehabits of Flickers, there would probably have been no young ones tofeed on the lawn of the big house. He had watched Mr. and Mrs. Flickerin the spring when they were making their nest ready, and had waitedonly long enough for the eggs to be laid before climbing the tallLombardy poplar to rob it.
You must not think that Mr. and Mrs. Flicker were stupid in showingthe Bad Boy where their nest was. There was never a more carefulcouple, but they were so large and handsome that, if they wentanywhere at all, they were sure to be seen. After they had once beenseen, it was easy for any one with plenty of time to watch and followthem home.
Mr. Flicker was clad mostly in golden brown, barred with black. He hada very showy black spot on his breast, which was just the shape of anew moon, black patches on his cheeks and smaller ones on his belly.The linings of his wings, and the quills of his long wing- andtail-feathers were a bright yellow, and on the back of his head he hada beautiful red band. All these were very fine, but the mostsurprising thing was a large patch of pure white feathers on the lowerpart of his back. These did not show except when he was flying. Atother times his folded wings quite hid them from sight. Mrs. Flickerlooked so much like her husband that you could not tell one from theother, unless you were near enough to see their cheeks. Then you wouldknow, for Mrs. Flicker had no black spots on hers.
When the Bad Boy was sure that the nest was high up in the trunk ofthe old Lombardy poplar, just across the street from the big house, hewaited until his mother and his big sister were out of the way, andthen he climbed that tree and took the six white eggs out of it. Thatwas a very, very cruel thing to do. It would have been bad enough totake one, but to take all six was a great deal worse. You will notpity the Bad Boy when you know that he tore his trousers and hurt onehand on his way down.
Poor Mrs. Flicker cried herself to sleep that night. "If we had notbeen careful," she sobbed, "I wouldn't feel so badly, but to have ithappen after all the trouble we took! I am sure that when we cut thehole for our nest, not a single chip fell to the ground below. Wecarried them all far away before dropping them.
"Excepting the ones we left for the eggs to lie on," added Mr.Flicker, who was always particular and exact in what he said, evenwhen in great trouble.
A VERY CRUEL THING TO DO. _Page 38_]
"Yes, excepting those," sobbed his poor wife. "I left a few of thebest ones inside."
"I wonder where the eggs are now," said Mr. Flicker. He looked towardthe Bad Boy's home as he spoke. If he had but known it, the Bad Boyhad not one left. Two had been broken in coming down the tree (for hismouth had not been big enough to carry all six), three he had tradedfor marbles, and the last one, which he meant to keep for a"specimen," had rolled off his desk in school and smashed on thefloor. The Bad Boy had been kept in at recess for this, but that didnot make the egg whole again.
The Flickers went sadly to sleep, and dreamed of a land where Birdswere as big as Cows and Boys as small as Goldfinches--where boys wereafraid of birds and hid when they saw them coming.
When the morning sunshine awakened them and they had breakfasted well,Mrs. Flicker began to feel more hopeful. "I am really ashamed ofmyself," she said, "for being so discouraged. There would be someexcuse for it if I were another kind of bird, but since I am a Flickerand can lay more eggs whenever my nest is robbed, I think I'd betterstop crying and plan for six more."
"My brave wife!" exclaimed Mr. Flicker. "You are quite right. It isall very sad, but we will make the best of it and try to be happy."
The Bad Boy passed under the tree more than twenty times before thesecond lot of eggs were hatched, and he wished and wished for aFlicker's egg (only he called them High Holes, because they built inhigh holes). He never guessed that in the nest above his head lay sixmore just as fine as the ones he had stolen. It is not strange that hedid not, for who but a Flicker can lay and lay and lay eggs when hernest is robbed?
Now the young Flickers were hatched and ready to leave theircomfortable home. They were much more helpless than most young birdsare when they leave the nest. In fact, they could hardly fly at all,and had to tumble and sprawl their way to the ground, catching hereand there in the branches of the poplar. Her neighbors thought Mrs.Flicker quite heartless to let them go so soon, but when she told themwhat a care her six nestlings were, they felt differently about it.
"Did you ever hear of such a thing?" exclaimed Mrs. Catbird, whothought herself quite overworked in caring for her six, and who hadonly known Flickers by sight before this. "Did you ever hear of such athing? She tells me that she and Mr. Flicker not only have to findall the food for their children, but have to eat it for them also. Iremember the Mourning Doves doing that, but then, they never have morethan two children at a time, so it is not so hard."
"What is that?" asked a Blackbird, who, like the rest of her family,always wanted to know about everything.
"Why," repeated Mrs. Catbird, "the Flickers have to eat all the foodthey get for their children, and then, when it has become soft andready for young birds, they unswallow it into their children's bills.It takes so much time to do this and to fly back and forth that theywant to have them out of the nest as soon as possible. Then they cantake them around with them."
You can imagine how anxious the parents were for a few days, whiletheir six babies were still so awkward and helpless. They took themacross the street to the lawn around the big house, and tucked themaway in dusky places where their brown feathers would not show againstanything light. Most of them were under the edge of a board walk, onewas under a porch, and one was under a low branching evergreen. Mrs.Robin, who was then hatching her second brood, kept watch forSilvertip, and this was a great help to the Flickers on the groundbelow.
First one and then another of the young Flickers went out with one ofthe parents, and it was most interesting to see them fed. TheFlickers, you know, are woodpeckers, and their long bills are slender,curved, and pointed, just right for picking Grubs and nice fat littleBugs out of tree-bark. Their tails, also, are stiff and right to propthem as they work up and around the trunk of a tree. Still, they feedon the ground more than on trees, and like Ants better than anythingelse in the world.
Now, one could see Mr. Flicker by an Ant-hill with a nestling besidehim, his head going up and down like a hammer, and an Ant picked up inhis bill at every stroke. Every now and then he would stop, turn hishead, place his bill in that of his child, and unswallow some Ants,which the nestling would gulp down. Between feedings the nestlingwould settle his head between his shoulders, and slide his thineyelids over his eyes. He never slid his thick eyelids over. He savedthose for night, when he would really sleep.
While the father was feeding one, the mother would be feeding another.When these two were satisfied they were sent back to theirhiding-places and two more had their turns. It was very hard work, inspite of their being so good. They never fussed or teased. They waitedpatiently for their turns and found no fault with the food.
"Oh," said Mrs. Flicker to her husband, as she swallowed the sixhundred-and-forty-eighth Ant since sunrise. "I am so tired that I feellike giving up. If it were not for you and the children, I believe Iwould just as soon let that Cat catch me as not."
"I know," he answered. "I am very tired myself, and I am sure you mustbe more so. You do not seem strong since you were shut in so longwhile brooding the eggs."
"It is easier in one way, now that all are out of the nest," said she."It saves my wings a great deal, but my neck and throat ache from suchsteady work. I used to rather enjoy eating for myself. The food tastedgood, and it was something pleasant to do. This eating for a wholefamily is quite different."
"Well, it won't last much longer," her husband said comfortingly. "Thechildren will soon be able to feed themselves, and you can have a goodrest. Then we will go picnicking in the fields beyond this place, andevery one shall get his own lunch."
In a few more days they di
d this, and for three mornings they mighthave been seen, in a happy party of eight, walking around together,quite as Pigeons do. At the end of the third day, Mr. Flicker said tohis wife: "Well, my dear, are you having a good time? This is apleasant change from caring for the children, isn't it?"
To his surprise, she turned her head away and did not answer. When herepeated his questions, she replied with a little choke in her voice."It is very easy," she said, "and a great rest, but it seems to me Ihave nothing to do. I eat all I can and try to swallow slowly, butwhen my stomach is full I have to just walk around. I miss thechildren putting their dear little bills up to mine and taking foodfrom me. I believe I am lonely."
Poor Mr. Flicker was young and inexperienced. He did not know howquickly some people change their minds, or how mothers miss the careof children.
"Isn't there something you can do," he asked, "to make you happier?"
"Could you help me clean out our old hole in the Lombardy poplar?"said she. "I believe I will lay some more eggs."
"What?" cried her husband. "When you have been so tired? And then youwill be shut in so long while brooding them. Why not fly off on apleasure trip with me?"
"I will," said she. "I'd love to go. But let us get the nest all readyfirst."
Mr. Flicker was young and inexperienced, as has been said before, yethe flew right off to work on that nest and let his wife do exactly asshe chose. Which shows that, although she did change her mind and hecould not understand why, they were a very happy and sensible couple,after all.
Dooryard Stories Page 6
