Flicker

An old maple stands in the meadow about six hundred feet from the house. I have watched FLICKERS bound south through the narrow defile of our valley in late September, and it seemed every one of them lit on that isolated tree. Migrating Sharp-shinned Hawks always headed for it, too, and many an interesting game of hide-and-seek was played in the branches with Flickers in the role of evader.

Down shot the little murderer! Round the limb slipped the Woodpecker! Swinging in an upward arc, the pursuer hurtled back, executing a series of short-armed dives but I've never seen one succeed in catching the pursued. The most persistent aggressors were the young Hawks, the slate-colored elders merely making a single swoop, then shooting off and onward. If education is the capacity to apply experience, here was an example: the old birds probably had made the attempt unsuccessfully many times in their youth and wasted no time now on futile pursuit. It was evident the Woodpeckers knew they were safe as long as they remained in the tree and dodged. Rarely one attempted escape by flight. If it did so, that was the end — the feathered demon had it before it was fairly clear of the leaves.

Excepting the Downy, Flickers are most familiar of our Woodpeckers. In flight the white rump identifies them at once and even the novice in bird study could not confuse them with other species. Their contour is as individual as the self-reliant bird's habits.

Three-quarters of a century ago, my father made frequent gunning trips to Egg Harbor, New Jersey, via schooner from New York city — railroads were few in Jersey. His companion, Captain Chichester, was fond of shooting "Highholders." A mounted bird was wired to a tree near the tavern and next morning a boy rushed in while they were at breakfast exclaiming — "There's a Highholder out on the pine." The Captain seized his gun, rushed to the door and let go both barrels. Cotton flew but not the bird. Hastily reloading, the attack was continued until six shots brot what was left of the effigy to the ground. Chichester took a look, choked and offered to fight all or one. He didn't bring in many dead Flickers that trip.

The majority leave for the south in October but it is not unusual for scattered individuals to winter in New England. They often live in deserted barns or houses thru the cold months.