Wandering among trees that have become old friends, the maples and firs shading the museum lawns and gardens, I came across three new holes. Tidy holes, but deep.
A business-like hole, a purposeful hole. |
No nonsense about these: the woodpecker ignored the juicy cadmium layer, pounded through new wood to reach something in the heartwood.
Two holes, same tree. |
A closer look at the first hole. |
Question: how does the bird know where to dig its hole? Does it hear something moving about deep inside the tree? Is there some visual clue, like an entry hole used by ants? Does it feel vibration under its feet? This doesn't look random.
Insect exits? Or birds looking for hidden larvae? |
These are much smaller holes: the green leaves are huckleberry leaves, up to 3 cm. long.
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Visitando unos árboles que han llegado a ser amigos constantes, los arces y abetos que proveen sombra en los jardines y prados del museo, encontré tres hoyos nuevos. Pocitos muy preciso, pero hondos.
Fotos:
- Un hoyo con propósito. El pájaro carpintero no perdió tiempo buscando entre la corteza o en el nivel del cambium, se fué directo hacia la madera interior.
- Dos otros hoyos en el mismo árbol.
- Acercándome más, para mirar adentro del pozo.
- Otro tronco, este caído, con agujeros hechos, creo, por insectos. Las hojas verdes son de huckleberry, y miden menos de 2 cm.
I've only watched pileated woodpeckers three times, but the best time I watched him pounding away and sticking his head in and looking up, and pounding again, and ultimately pulling out a remarkably large green caterpillar. He had to have known it was in there. Well, or he's a very lucky woodpecker. Or trees are made of caterpillars. Okay, i don't know.
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