ently entering
his nest, feeding upon the young, and remaining for days in possession.

"The eager school-boy, after hazarding his neck to reach the
Woodpecker's hole, at the triumphant moment when he thinks the nestlings
his own, strips his arm, launches it down into the cavity, and grasping
what he conceives to be the callow young, starts with horror at the
sight of a hideous snake, almost drops from his giddy pinnacle, and
retreats down the tree with terror and precipitation."

THE WOODPECKER.

The Drummer Bird.

My dear girls and boys:

The man who told me to keep still and look pleasant while he took my
picture said I might write you a letter to send with it. You say I
always keep on the other side of the tree from you. That is because
someone has told you that I spoil trees, and I am afraid that you will
want to punish me for it. I do not spoil trees. The trees like to have
me come to visit them, for I eat the insects that are killing them.
Shall I tell you how I do this?

I cling to the tree with my strong claws so sharply hooked. The pointed
feathers of my tail are stiff enough to help hold me against the bark.
Then my breast bone is quite flat, so that I may press close to the
tree. When I am all ready you hear my r-r-rap--just like a rattle. My
head goes as quickly as if it were moved by a spring. Such a strong,
sharp bill makes the chips fly! The tiny tunnel I dig just reaches the
insect.

Then I thrust out my long tongue. It has a sharp, horny tip, and has
barbs on it too. Very tiny insects stick to a liquid like glue that
covers my tongue. I suppose I must tell you that I like a taste of the
ripest fruit and grain. Don't you think I earn a little when I work so
hard keeping the trees healthy?

I must tell you about the deep tunnel my mate and I cut out of a tree.
It is just wide enough for us to slip into. It is not straight down, but
bent, so that the rain cannot get to the bottom. There we make a nest of
little chips for our five white eggs.

I should like to tell you one of the stories that some boys and girls
tell about my red head. You will find it on another page of the book.
Now I must fly away to peck for more bugs.

Your loving friend,
WOODPECKER.

[Illustration: RED HEADED WOODPECKER.]

MEXICAN MOT MOT.

Mot mots are peculiar to the new world, being found from Mexico
throughout the whole of