Day 116: A faint, dry sound registered subliminally, drawing my eyes to the big Doug fir at the corner of my front yard. I waited, standing as still as it is humanly possible to stand, and then in the deep shadow at the base of the tree, somewhat obscured by the branches of a minor shrub, a "piece of bark" moved, its toenails making the scratchy noise as it progressed around the tree. For the next ten minutes, a Northern Flicker (Red-Shafted Flicker) diligently probed the deep crevices in Big Doug's hide, always staying in the shadow. Then at last, the bird moved into the single brush-free spot of sun three feet up from the tree's base, rapping a few times, then gobbling down the insects raised by the vibration. At times, the Flicker's entire head would disappear from sight as it sought bugs deeper in the cracks. I was amazed that the bird's skull would fit into such a narrow opening. I wonder what's hatching, that it draws two insectivorous bird species to my yard on a biting-cold February day? It must be good, because the Thrushes were back in force again today after a 17-degree night, desperately seeking protein in the leaf litter.
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