We all know that woodpeckers live in the forest and hunt for their food in the bark of trees.
If you go into the woodlands, you will see them peck, peck, pecking on the sides of the towering oaks and ponderous pines.
Why did a red-headed woodpecker pick the front porch column of my house to drill a hole into?
I do know this much: there are no insects in the 18-foot timber.
The late Harry Perkins built the lengthy wooden item at his home workshop in Daniels before he passed away several years ago.
The fluted column is about 12 inches square and beautifully constructed by a master craftsman.
Now there is a hole about the size of a silver dollar in the top left corner on the front side, facing the yard.
Not only is the opening unsightly as all get out, but it’s also going to be a liability during winter weather: sleet, snow, ice are bound to cause the cavity to rot away unless I can come up with some quick patchwork.
I’m thinking of climbing a ladder and plugging the hole with a block of wood and some caulking putty.
However, there’s not just the hole; this woodpecker left his signature over a three-foot section—ratty-tat-tat tread marks with his beak—as he pranced up the side of vertical beam, apparently probing for just the right spot to make his cut.
Then the feathered trespasser just flew away, back where the creature came from. I have not seen the vexing bird since the beating, stabbing, thumping, pounding, pecking took place one Saturday morning.
You would think that my white frame residence, which is a quaint 120-odd years old, is above the violent molestation of a woodpecker.
Yet, I am not bitter. And I am not seeking restitution from the hostile, belligerent and spoiling-for-a-fight feathered assailant.
I doubt if I even report the incident to the DNR, which by the way probably has enough to worry about, what with African lions and snow leopards roaming about and all.
Besides, according to one Native American account, the woodpecker is a pitiful forest creature, having been transformed from a human to a bird.
Legend has it that an Indian woman, who failed to honor the Great Spirit in her wigwam with the necessary hospitality by providing her masquerading guest with something to eat, was changed into a woodpecker.
“I have no food for you,” she allegedly told her visitor. “Go to the forest and look there for your food. You can find it in the bark of trees if you look hard enough.”
According to the fable, the Great Spirit was irate when he heard these words. He rose majestically from where he sat and angrily threw back his cloak.
“People must be generous and kind,” he said, “but you are selfish, cruel and evil. You shall no longer be a woman and live in a wigwam. You shall go out into the forests forever and hunt for your food in the bark of trees.”
Then, the Great Spirit supposedly stamped his foot on the earth, and the woman grew smaller and smaller. Wings started to grow from her body and feathers appeared on her skin. With a loud cry, she rose from the earth and flew into the forest.
And to this day, all woodpeckers live in the forest and hunt for their food in the bark of trees.
So, I guess I can take pity on the poor creature that pecked a hole in my porch column. Maybe the bird did not know the difference between a fluted white column and a birch tree.
At any rate, I am resolved to just forget about it.
Now where did I put my extension ladder?
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Top o’ the morning!
