The winter of 1971 swept over northeastern Wisconsin with deep
snows and strong winds. There still was a fairly deep layer of
wet snow on the ground that mid-March when I decided to begin
checking for blown-over trees across the trails at the Ridges
Sanctuary at Baileys Harbor where I was working at the time.
One large lightning-struck balsam poplar along Deerlick Trail
was, so I had thought, very vulnerable to the storms. Imagine my
surprise upon reaching the old dead barkless veteran to find,
decorating the ground below the 75-foot-tall tree, a twenty-foot
terrestrial halo of fresh wood chips. Surely this had to
indicate a potential nest hole for a pair of pileated
woodpeckers. Better stay away and not take a chance of spooking
these wary birds. Give them time to get well into their nesting
before examining the hole.
It was in early May, armed with ax and lopping shears, that I
worked my way down Deerlick Trail trimming away the results of
crusty Old Man Winter’s work. And now I arrived at the old
balsam poplar. This was to be my test. This would tell me the
story. Whomp! Whomp! Twice I struck the tree trunk with the
handle of my ax and just that fast out popped a huge red-crested
woodpecker’s head. She HAD chosen the old landmark balsam poplar
in which to raise her young. I was deliriously happy!
Yes, that patient pair of pileated woodpeckers did
successfully raise their brood in the huge old snag. That enabled
several hundred visitors to the sanctuary, hiking the trails with
me as their guide, to see firsthand the bird that so successfully
evades the intensive searching of even some of the most skilled
birders.
This is the gospel truth – I have momentarily turned my head
away from the computer screen to look outdoors and who should be
feasting at the "marvel meal" feeder but our resident
female pileated woodpecker – pure serendipity – the very bird I
will be describing.
When she does come to feed, which may be as many as four or
five times a day, sometimes as early as 6:15 a.m., she usually
remains here between three and five minutes. She’ll quite
fastidiously pick out bits of the peanut butter mixture for a few
seconds, then quickly pause to carefully scrutinize the
surrounding woods. In fact a large Cooper’s hawk, probably a
female, swept into our front yard about an hour and a half ago,
and this strong raptor could easily take a pileated woodpecker.
Yesterday, after feasting on the "marvel meal," she
flew directly above the feeder to a medium-size dead branch of a
maple tree, presenting a perfect profile for Charlotte and me
seated at the kitchen table. Now she proceeded to rap on the
resonant branch, presumably communicating with another pileated
woodpecker. About every 15 seconds she’d really give that branch
a typical two to three-second volley of hard, deep, loud raps
that gradually got softer at the end of each roll.
Years ago I was lucky to be able to record one of these
awesome birds, this time a male, producing its far-reaching
"drum rolls." I was using my four-speed UHER tape
recorder that enabled me to slow down the recording, taken at its
highest speed of seven and one-half inches (of tape) per second,
four full octaves. Now one could easily count the individual
raps on the wood of one entire roll. Nearly everyone I have
played this tape to underestimated the number of times
"Piley" hit t he tree with each burst. Depending upon
how you counted, it was either 22 or 23 times, all within a span
of around two seconds.
It’s usually the male bird that does the most drumming. I
like to think that several very loud series of drumming heard
east of our driveway in recent days has been that of the male,
who for some reason has been reluctant to come to the feeder.
Fortunately there are several areas of mature woods within a half
mile of our place that surely have provided suitable cavity trees
for these birds during the past dozen or so years during which
time we’ve had them at our feeders, originally beef suet, now
" ;marvel meal."
These crow-sized pileated woodpeckers, who are thought to mate
for life, will be laying eggs as early as mid-May in a cavity
they have made, preferably in a large dead tree having a diameter
of around 15 to 20 inches. The three to five white roundish
eggs will have hatched by late May or early June. Their loud
calls, sounding either like "kuk – kuk – kuk," or
"CUD-uk –CUD-uk – CUD-uk" will intensify during their
courtship but soon will virtually disappear as the adults tend
the nest of eggs and eventually young.
I was able to get some excellent firsthand observations, from
around 75 feet, of the pair that nested in the sanctuary in May
of 1971. For example, on the day I took pictures of the adults
bringing food to the young, I found that both adults were out
obtaining food, presumably carpenter ants or the larvae of
wood-boring beetles, and that each one returned to the nest at
intervals of around 50 minutes.
Hopefully these crimson-crowned aristocrats will be nesting in
our region and will continue to entertain us so royally as few
other birds can.
Lukes' female pileated woodpecker at the "marvel meal" feeder.
This column appeared in the Door County Advocate
on 03/20/2004.
© Copyright 2004 Roy Lukes. All rights reserved.
