a tree, like the other fowls of the air, but runs up the trunk and boughs like a squirrel, clinging with its strong claws and propping itself up with its short, stiff tail. Its head, set crosswise on the thin, supple neck, looks like the hammer of a gun, and it stops at intervals to hammer fiercely at the trunk of the tree. Its blows are delivered with extraordinary rapidity and energy; indeed, all its actions are impulsive and hasty. The Woodpecker's trade is a curious one. While other birds are hunting for all sorts of insects that fly in the air, or crawl on the ground, or hide among the leaves of trees, it lays siege to those which fancy they have defied their enemies by burrowing into the solid trunk. Its beak is a regular chisel, square at the point, with an edge kept always sharp, on what grindstone I know not. Its tongue, which can be thrust out for a distance of three or four inches, is armed at the point with strong and sharp hooks, and also smeared, I think, with birdlime, so that it forms at once a very searching and a fast holding instrument. I remember once watching a pair of Woodpeckers which had discovered the burrow of some fat timber grub and were determined to have it out. They first thrust their bills in at the entrance, but evidently the occupant had retired beyond the reach of their tongues. Then they tried to tap the burrow some inches further down. For a quarter of an hour they hammered away with almost painful energy, but the wood proved to be perfectly sound and very hard. Then they tried another point and another, returning every now and then to the orifice to thrust in their tongues and take the exact direction of the hole. At last their patience or their strength, wore out, and, with a cry of impa-
