4 Woodpeckers and a Peckerwood
with a Bluebird Surprise
I hope you realize the sheer amount of restraint I expend when writing here. Do you know how difficult it was not to title this, “Look at my pecker?”
I saw a dozen peckers this week and they all delighted me. The first was when I went for a walk in the snow with my friend Johnny, down the right of way for a gas pipeline near his apartment building. It’s a wetland area with a pond and a creek, so birds love it. He’s got a resident Great Blue Heron, but they were scarce; we did see a pair of Northern Flickers, who always make me smile. There’s something about their heads that reminds me of a Ruffed Grouse, and when they fan their tails, they display unique verticle stripes. A pair of them were disturbed from ground feeding as we walked by, and they fluttered up into the trees.
The next day, I woke early and drove to Tourne County Park, which I’ve hiked in the snow before. It’s a steep climb with a lot of massive glacial erratic boulders to admire, and a wonderful view of the surrounding area from the top of the small mountain. I’d heard woodpeckers here before but didn’t see them last time; I assumed they were small Downy woodpeckers. This time, there was no mistaking what I saw. Three or four Pileated were pecking at grubs in the tall bare trees.
Because so many of the bird newsletters I follow here have had encounters with Pileated Woodpeckers, I’ve felt jealous lately. I began scouring eBird to find the nearest sightings, and even contemplated a road trip to look for them where they were last reported. I’m so glad that I didn’t, and allowed serendipity to prevail! The first Pileated soared over my head and I mistook it for a hawk; then I saw three red heads high in the trees, and stopped to stare. The second bird followed its mate, and I got to see its spread wings from beneath. Then the third was spooked by me, and flew off.
But one Pileated remained, hungrily pecking at the bark of the tree for food. I managed to take several photos and two videos before it flew off to find its mate. I didn’t have my camera, so these are phone photos. Next time I visit the Tourne, I’ll arrive early and bring my zoom lens! It takes practice to keep a phone or camera aimed while I’m observing the bird with your eyes.
Pileated have saurian features like a pterodactyl. If the Ivory-billed woodpecker and the Imperial Woodpecker of Mexico are truly extinct, the Pileated remains the largest of its kind in the Americas. On the same day, their more common, tiny cousins the Downy Woodpecker, visited my Bird Buddy feeder and I got photos and a video of one feeding. The little ones are one of my favorite birds, because they are so fierce and full of life. All woodpeckers have a laughing call, made famous by the cartoon Woody Woodpecker. The Downy has the cutest, highest pitchest call.
The fourth woodpecker I saw on a morning hike two days later, a Red-bellied at the dog park. It was flighty and wouldn’t pose for a photo, but he looked beautiful in the morning light. I’ve never seen the red on their bellies, but I’ve seen their mostly red heads. They have beautiful stripes on their wings and backs, and their laughs are incredibly loud. I learned this while I was sitting on the toilet.
I was scrolling on my phone early one morning, when I was startled by a loud chittering that sounded like it came from right beside me. All I could think of was that a family of raccoons had chosen my attic for a home. I pulled down the stairs that fold into hallway ceiling and poked around with a flashlight. No raccoons. So I checked the scuttle in the garage as well, nothing but insulation. When I went outside to see if anything was on the roof, I heard the loud laughter again.
A Red-bellied woodpecker mocked me from the Tulip Tree in my front yard. I watched him call a few times and learned how far that sound carries through a poorly insulated roof.
The red birds thrive in winter, but apparently, so does the blue. I saw a bluebird a few weeks ago, deep in the Pine Barrens, from afar; one visited me after a morning bike ride, a few mornings ago. Cardinals are thought of as visiting spirits of loved ones, but bluebirds and their flare of bright color have brought hope and happiness to humans for centuries; they leave me in awe.
This one was bold, and pecked through the grass in front of my car, lighting on a branch to study me, for nearly two minutes. My heavy breathing is not from awe, but from the steep incline of the bike trail into the parking lot.
Did you know that peckerwood, before being used as a disparaging term for ignorant people, was simply another term for woodpeckers?
I know that my Substack has been reaching new readers, because some troll came to spread their misery on my last post about the Philly walk. Because the media insists that cities are d-d-dangerous (even though violent crime has plummeted since the pandemic) the anonymous troll had to mock my joy at the Graffiti Pier, and suggest that taggers would “make art out of me” if I dared linger after dark. Well, we walked Philly for a few hours after dark, in fact. Carrying an expensive camera. Unscathed.
I’m unsure why anyone would visit a decrepit concrete railroad pier after dark when you couldn’t even see the graffiti, but I imagine if you did go there you might fall and hurt yourself. That’s the first commenter I’ve blocked. I have no patience for racist dogwhistle crap. I’ve lived in a few cities that had high violent crime, and the only times I’ve been threatened were by young suburban white men looking for trouble. Here’s two photos Antonia Malchik took of me at the pier with my Terminate Hate shirt:
Before I go, another favorite bird name that can be used as an insult is “tufted titmouse.” I happened to photograph one in my yard before this post was scheduled, so let me sneak them in. And I promise the next post won’t be about birds!
Allow me to leave you with some peckerly reading:
And the queen of pileated peckers:
And I thoroughly enjoyed this award-winning short animated film about a young girl who loves books and birds and bugs. Reminds me of myself at that age! It’s free to watch. Thanks to
for sharing it.
People are constantly warning me of the dangers of birding alone. It's what those people do. But here I am, still alive at 72 after birding alone, with my camera, sometimes after dark, in lots of big cities, and camping alone many times in national forests, wildlife refuges, and other remote spots. We all die eventually. Until then, we might as well live doing what we love rather than cowering in fear.
I love the all birds posts! I also love the downies best, although the pileated are more majestic of course.
My 14 yo would be disappointed that you didn’t go with your original title 😂