A Visitor at the Kentucky Coffeetree

taptaptap

The dry, methodical tapping from nearby was the sound of a woodpecker looking for lunch. This was not the assertive, noisy drumming indicating a woodpecker asserting its territory to others, but a quiet, workmanlike tap against something that made a dry rattle.

I stopped to look around, and observed a little Downy Woodpecker, barely larger than a sparrow, clinging to the flattened seedpod of a Kentucky Coffeetree and tapping away. When one pod yielded nothing of interest, it moved on to another and another. Fly, cling, taptaptap. Fly, cling, taptaptap. It would try from the front; it would try along the seams. It would hang upside-down and try from underneath.

Showing off the zygodactyl toes
(two facing forward, two facing
backward) of woodpeckers, parrots,
and a few other species.

When it had apparently exhausted every pod dangling from the naked limbs, the little black-and-white woodpecker flew off in search of a more satisfying meal. It was a charming display, one of those little dramatic events in nature that makes you stop and watch until the actor moves out of sight.

I couldn't find any record of the seed pods of Kentucky Coffeetree being utilized as food by woodpeckers (or any extant creature), as the raw seeds are said to be toxic. There is a sweet liquid inside the pods--perhaps the woodpecker was getting a taste of that? Or perhaps there are insects or larvae making a winter home on or within the pods?




The following week I saw another (or the same) Downy Woodpecker visiting the seedpods of  Kentucky Coffeetree, again moving from one pod to another until chased off by a more aggressive woodpecker (who did not seem to share an interest in the seedpods).



 

Planning the attack.

Winter's on the Way

Everything is winding down on the Greenway. Birds are restless: geese flying in formation above the wetlands, as flocks of blackbirds pass overhead emitting a steady stream of dry chucks. Goldfinches, though not joining the others on their journeys, are active too. Motley in their drab winter plumage, their high, thin squeaks and chatter betray their location as they forage on the abundant seeds left from the summer’s rainbow of flowers.

 It’s always a little hard to watch things slow down and settle in for the winter.

It is almost time to change views, switch from examining each flower for a tiny insect in constant motion and scanning the horizon for each new bloom to watching the textures and shadows of winter, maybe paying more attention to the shape of the clouds and the drops of water clinging to leaves in the early morning chill.

Soon there will be snow and frost, etching patterns on glass and sparkling in the glare of the low winter sun. Instead of wet squelches, footsteps will be punctuated with dry crunches. Concern over ticks and mosquitoes gives way to numb fingers and the sting of ice-cold air in your nose.

Thank goodness for those hardy birds that brave the local weather with us year-round: the cheery cardinals and acrobatic chickadees, the robust woodpeckers and the hearty sparrows. They remind us of the life that has moved south or underground, waiting for the warmth to return in the spring.