Christmas Day and the Pileated Woodpecker

          It was my grandfather, “Lawyer Sam” Scoville, who got us all watching birds. Besides lawyering, Sam was a writer and an amateur naturalist. He died when I was five, but by then the whole family was hooked. I read all his books: “Man and Beast,” “Lords of the Wild,” “The Out-of-Doors Club” and the rest. I grew up watching not only birds, but animals and snakes – everything in the whole big natural shebang.
         Five years ago, we took over the house that Sam built in Cornwall. One afternoon, watching the orange flash of a Baltimore Oriole high in our oak, it occurred to me that the bird’s family might have been watched by my own for many generations. It gave me an odd feeling. Of course I don’t think my grandfather had anything to do with it, but I was pretty sure that, if Sam were around, he’d be delighted to see me watching.  
         This Christmas I gave my six-year-old grandson a pair of binoculars and a children’s bird book. On Christmas morning we sat in the window overlooking the lake, leafing through the pages. He was keen, but I warned him that we might not see anything interesting at first. I was a little worried: beginners want showy, exciting birds, but what’s usually around are crows and sparrows.
        I heard a quiet, steady tapping, and I looked outside. Ten feet away was a big black and white bird, clinging to the trunk of the ash tree, drumming his way towards dinner.
        “Oh. My. Gosh,” I said. “That’s a pileated woodpecker!”
        My grandson looked outside, wide-eyed.
        The spectacular pileated is our largest native woodpecker, (except for the Ivory-Billed, which may or may not still be extant, somewhere deep in the southern forests). But the pileated is very extant up here.       
        “Pileated” means “crested,” and his crest is scarlet, with a zany point on the end like a jester’s. His bold black and white plumage is patterned like Venetian livery. He has a long  serpentine neck and a powerful bill. He eats boring insects - ants and grubs. You’ve seen the gigantic holes he makes, drilling for carpenter ant, but don’t blame him for damaging the tree: ants have already hollowed it out.
        He nests in holes in trees himself. (Though once a pair of pileateds took over my bluebird box. They enlarged the entrance, but no matter how large it was they still couldn’t fit inside. They were like giants trying to sit at a kindergarten table.)
        Like most woodpeckers, the pileated is shy. I know they’re around, but I rarely see one. So on Christmas morning I was thrilled to see it - scarlet cockade, Venetian livery, all of it.
        “Okay,” I whispered, “This is your first ten minutes of birdwatching, and you’re seeing one of the great American birds. This is almost a miracle.”
        “Yes,” my grandson whispered. 
        Of course I don’t think my grandfather had anything to do with this, but it was funny, wasn’t it? 

                                                                                   February 2013, Connecticut