loudly, and
frolics about as if he had never a care or a fear in the world. But
the nest is now more frequently in a wild orchard, where the bird
finds an old knot-hole and digs down through the soft wood, making a
deep nest with very little trouble. When the knot-hole is not well
situated, he finds a large decayed limb and drills through the outer
hard shell, then digs down a foot or more through the soft wood, and
makes a nest. In this nest the rain never troubles him, for he very
providently drills the entrance on the under side of the limb.

Like many other birds, he has discovered that the farmer is his
friend. Occasionally, therefore, he neglects to build a deep nest,
simply hollowing out an old knot-hole, and depending on the presence
of man for protection from hawks and owls. At such times the bird very
soon learns to recognize those who belong in the orchard, and loses
the extreme shyness that characterizes him at all other times.

Once a farmer, knowing my interest in birds, invited me to come and
see a golden-winged woodpecker, which in her confidence had built so
shallow a nest that she could be seen sitting on the eggs like a
robin. She was so tame, he said, that in going to his work he
sometimes passed under the tree without disturbing her. The moment we
crossed the wall within sight of the nest, the bird slipped away out
of the orchard. Wishing to test her, we withdrew and waited till she
returned. Then the farmer passed within a few feet without disturbing
her in the least. Ten minutes later I followed him, and the bird flew
away again as I crossed the wall.

The notes of the golden-wing--much more varied and musical than those
of other woodpeckers--are probably the results of his new free life,
and the modified tongue and bill. In the woods one seldom hears from
him anything but the rattling _rat-a-tat-tat_, as he hammers away on a
dry old pine stub. As a rule he seems to do this more for the noise it
makes, and the exercise of his abilities, than because he expects to
find insects inside; except in winter time, when he goes back to his
old ways. But out in the fields he has a variety of notes. Sometimes
it is a loud _kee-uk_, like the scream of a blue jay divided into two
syllables, with the accent on the last. Again it is a loud cheery
whistling call, of very short notes run close together, with accent on
every other one. Again he teeters up and down on the end of an old
fence rail with a rollicki