Woodpecker Helper

Though he worked on it all day, I never saw Garrett go inside the roost box I'd provided, and I got worried that he couldn't fit in the hole. A quick Internet search indicated that a red-headed woodpecker box should have a hole from 2" to 2 1/2" across. I ran outside with a ruler. This one measured 1 3/4." Eek! I had thought it looked big enough to admit him, but it was apparently not.

Garrett was still pecking at the entry hole as darkness came on. He had worked on the right and left lower edges of the hole, to little avail. You can see the pale worked edges in this photo. He barely stopped to eat, he was working so hard all day.

Not that I was worried or anything.

 I hated to do it, but I didn't have much time. I asked Garrett to leave for a little while, took the box down and carried it inside to the workbench where I attacked the hole with a chisel and a big rattail file my dad called Rasputin. Oh, I love using my dad's old tools.

Especially to help my favorite birdie du jour.

As I worked on the box, I remembered my mom's poor big toenail, that ever since she spent a day shopping in pointy-toed dress shoes in downtown Minneapolis in 19 fifty-who-knows-when, has grown up instead of out. When it would get to bothering her Dad would clomp downstairs and come up brandishing Rasputin, with an evil grin on his face, take Mom's foot between his knees blacksmith style, and rasp away at the overgrown toenail. There were always blacksmith and horse jokes and wincing and giggling from us kids. Poor Mom. But oh, I loved remembering that scene.

The wood was cedar and surprisingly hard. I realized that it would take Garrett days to do what I'd done in a few minutes. I wound up using a chisel and mallet to chip away chunks around the entry hole, then smoothing the jagged edges away with Rasputin. Only the best for Garrett!

Hoping Garrett would be able to enlarge it himself, I'd waited until the last minute to intervene, and darkness was gathering as I hung it back up. Woodpeckers like to go to roost when there's still plenty of light. Poor Garrett would probably have to spend the night somewhere else.

Yes, I worried about him in the night. It was raining, of course.

Come morning, he was nowhere to be found. Bill went so far as to speculate he might have quit the place altogether since his snag had fallen down. And I'd swiped his roost box just as darkness was falling. Ack ack ack. But I still felt him around. I knew he was out there somewhere.

I went out to check the box--no sign of him. I put a few handfuls of hamster litter in the box to give Garrett something to excavate. That's important, if you're going to put up a box for woodpeckers, to make them feel they're cleaning out a cavity.

Finally I spotted him sitting in the willow, which seems to be his retreat when things aren't going so well for him. I know how he feels. Everybody needs a tree friend.

And the next time I looked at the roost box, he appeared. He cast a look at me, sitting in the studio window, and I had to think it was an approving glance. The hole was now about 2 1/8, and should be large enough to admit him. It looked a lot better to me, at least.

The next thing that happened had the whole family crowing. Garrett stuck his head in the newly enlarged hole

went a little further

almost disappeared

and backed back out 

with a billfull of hamster litter!

Whooping, dancing, crowing with Bill and the kids--he was in! And he was cleaning out his new home!

It wasn't long before he was all the way inside and popping out just to spit litter.

With a quick shake of his head, he'd ptoo it out.

Repeat until litter is gone

and ground beneath the box is littered with gray paper snow.

Yes, it's a comfy fit. No problem now for a broad-shouldered bird. Big, big grin. Thanks, Dad. Thanks, Rasputin.

That bird was on the box the rest of the day. It started raining hard again in the afternoon. I could barely see him through the rain-spattered window. But this time Garrett knew what to do.

I've been storing up blogposts for awhile now, trying to get enough to see me through a big trip in February (!), the release of The Bluebird Effect in early March, the release of The Rain Crows' first CD  and a CD release party in early March, and two big family events, also in March. I feel the hounds of Hell at my heels. I'm working from dawn until bedtime trying to make it all happen and keep the blog going, too.

And I cannot tear myself away from this woodpecker's story. Every time I think I can wrap up the Garrett posts and move on to The Wilds in winter and North Dakota in summer, something else happens in his life. Which makes something else happen in my life.

And I realize that I'm entirely too wrapped up in this little bird, and probably he's too wrapped up in me. 

which, as you know by now, is exactly how I like it.

Because when you can look out any window and see something like this, all you can do is share it.

Postscript:

On the morning of January 30, 2012, I went for my run. It was a pearly partly cloudy morning with promise of a little rare sun. I came up the driveway toward home around 8:45 AM and Garrett flew out to meet me. I couldn't believe he was coming on a straight line toward me. He perched in the old pear tree right over my head, holding a peanut in his bill. I spoke to him and told him what a fine, fine bird he was, and how glad I was to see him. I thanked him for coming out to say hello.  I told him I'd enjoyed having him here since the 15th of January and I hoped he liked all the things we'd done to make him feel welcome. He bobbed a couple of times and flew to the southeast, landing briefly in a willow. I headed up the sidewalk to start my morning, musing about how odd it was that he'd fly up to me, perch right over my head, stop to chat...

That was the last time I saw Garrett.  All day long, I told myself I just wasn't looking in the right places at the right time. By 3 pm I knew that Garrett had flown straight to me to say good bye. And, maybe, thank you.  

The floodgates opened then.

I'm sitting at my desk, watching a pair of red-bellied woodpeckers sharing suet. A pair of white-breasted nuthatches, two downies, a crow. All wonderful, none of them Garrett. Better, though, to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all.