There is a wild bird that has become one of our favorites, the
red-bellied woodpecker. It’s a species that I didn’t get to know
as a boy in Kewaunee during the 1940’s and 50’s simply because
its range from its usual southern environments still hadn’t moved
that far northward. In fact the first one wasn’t seen in
Kewaunee County until 1962.
These striking "ladder-back" woodpeckers were
reported from Brown County as early as 1877 probably because of
there being more oak trees there, and these woodpeckers, along
the red-headed woodpeckers, are fond of acorns.
Door County also had a fairly early "red-belly" by
1947, perhaps because of the outstanding birdwatcher and bander,
Harold Wilson from Ephraim. If there was one of those birds in
the village, chances are that Harold knew about it and reported
it as well. The earliest and farthest northern report of this
species in the state was in Douglas County in 1957. Marinette
County didn’t report one until 1978.
It was in the spring of 1954 at Fort Sill, Oklahoma that I saw
my first "red-belly" while I was training with the Army
field artillery. I was assigned to the fire-direction-control
(FDC) group responsible for using slide rules and other devices
to compute the cannon settings and directions for the monstrous
280 mm (bore size) atomic cannon. Unfortunately small computers
still hadn’t been perfected.
Day after day, night after night, we trained, studied and
practiced in the field, working toward absolute perfection and
the "big day" when there would be no room for mistakes.
Many hours of field exercise soon became routine and our poor
ears rang more and more. How we came to hate the roaring blasts
from that highly perfected weapon whose 600-pound projectiles
could hit a target over 20 miles away. Fortunately this was the
beginning of my deep interest in ornithology, really as a genuine
escape from what was becoming pure drudgery.
We had been taking turns around the clock on one particular
field exercise, and before turning in (in the middle of the day)
I grabbed a pair of binoculars, most likely in an effort to
regain my sanity, and set out to look for the origin of a strange
sound I had been hearing all that morning.
One hundred yards or so from our FDC tent, up near the top of
a 20-foot dead stub of a large tree, was a freshly made hole
about three inches in diameter. Chips were flying, and whatever
was down inside was making a plaintive "pddrrtt" call
over and over.
Finally out popped a head, creamy-tan on the sides, flashy
vermilion on the top, reminding me of the color of Mercurochrome.
Eventually the bird crawled out of the hole and presented itself
to me – handsome, fine, black and white horizontal barring on its
back and wings, soft tan on its underparts, this being delicately
washed with a pinkish cast on its very bottom. It was a female
red-belied woodpecker, the first I had ever seen – a
"lifer!"
It was nine more years before I saw my next one while
conducting the 1963 Christmas Bird Count in my home Kewaunee
County. That was on Jan. 1 and others in the group included my
dad (Adolph Lukes), Elmer DeCramer, John Kraupa and Roger Tess.
The flashy male was seen near Casco Junction. That exciting
observation stands out so vividly in my memory that I could take
you to the exact place of our sighting, 41 years ago.
Charlotte and moved into our new home in the woods containing
red oak trees in the middle of Door County in late November of
1982. We saw our first red-belly at our feeders in the late
afternoon of Aug. 10, 1983. All we could see were hints of red
on the top of the bird’s head, so we predicted at the time that
it was a juvenile male that had been born earlier that summer.
Happily "Red" matured into a magnificent male
specimen and adorned our feeders several times daily. He was
somewhat aggressive and authoritative, but polite at the same
time, an excellent member of our small wild bird community. He
was easily capable of bossing all of the other woodpeckers around
except the pileated.
What always impressed us as "Red" flew away with
strong wingbeats up into the tall basswood tree in our front yard
was his distinctive white rump patch, somewhat like that of a
common flicker.
I think back to my Army field artillery days and, unknown to
my superiors, the guidebooks about nature I always carried with
me. You better believe I was ribbed thoroughly by my buddies for
packing a bird book along with me every time we took to the
field. But what they never did find out was that I also had one
on trees, another on wildflowers and still another about rocks
and minerals.
That was only a start, and I thank my lucky stars for all
those other people who were responsible for teaching me through
the years to take interest in every single form of natural
history I encountered regardless of where I was. Wouldn’t you,
too, be willing to trade an atomic cannon for a red-bellied
boodpecker? I would. Any day!
The male red-bellied woodpecker
eyes the last bit of marvel meal in the feeder.
This column appeared in the Door County Advocate
on 01/17/2004.
© Copyright 2004 Roy Lukes. All rights reserved.
