as if he had been smashed flat, and more
like some of the feather monstrosities with which milliners disfigure
their hats than a living bird.

Another curious habit of my versatile guest was his fly-catching. It is
already notorious that the golden-wing is giving up the profession of
woodpecker and becoming a ground bird; it is equally patent to one who
observes him that the red-head is learning the trade of fly-catching.
Frequently, during the weeks that I had him under observation, I saw him
fly up in the air and return to the fence, exactly like the kingbird.

All the time I had been making this pleasing acquaintance I had longed
in vain to find the red-head's nest. It was probably in the pasture in
which we had first met him, where the somewhat spirited cattle in
possession prevented my explorations. I hoped at least to see his young
family; but July days passed away, and though the bonny couple spent
much time among the raspberries, they always carried off the nestlings'
share.

In the very last hours of my stay, after trunks were packed, fate
relented, and I spent nearly the whole day studying the "tricks and
manners" of a red-headed baby. I had returned from my last morning's
walk in the woods, and was seated by my window, thinking half sadly that
my summer was ended, when I saw the woodpecker come to the raspberries,
gather one, and fly away with it. Instead, however, of heading, as
usual, for the woods across the pasture, he alighted on a fence near by.
A small dark head rose above the edge of a board, opened a bill, and
received the berry in it. Instantly I turned my glass upon that
meek-looking head. So soon as the old bird disappeared the young one
came up in sight, and in a few moments flew over to the nearer fence,
beside the bushes. Then one of the parents returned, fed him two or
three times, apparently to show him that berries grew on bushes, and not
in the beak, and then departed with an air that said, "There, my son,
are the berries; help yourself!"

Left now to his own devices, the little woodpecker was my study for
hours. He was like his parents, except that he was gray where they were
red, and the white on the wings was barred off with a dark color which
on theirs did not appear. Like young creatures the world over, he at
once began to amuse himself, working at a hole in the top of a post,
digging into it vehemently, and at last, after violent effort, bringing
out a stick nearly as long as him