When You Live In A Forest...

Yesterday morning, David and I woke up to the sound of construction. It was frightening. To us, it sounded as though someone were using a jackhammer or some other type of reciprocating and repeating tool right on our house.

We knew it couldn't be a neighbor. Unless someone is using a chainsaw and the wind is right, we don't hear the neighbors using tools. And it certainly wouldn't wake us up. Anyway, this really sounded like it was right on our house, not near it.

David got up and opened the window. Looked down. He saw a female woodpecker on the ground, looking up at her mate. On our house. I have a vision of her there, shielding her little eyes against the morning sun with one wing. “No, no, Harold. Not there. A bit to the right. No up. Up. And why here? You told me we were getting waterfront this time.” And so on.

Anyway, both woodpeckers got a load of David and took off, I suppose, wondering why this lovely tree they’d chosen as their new home -- or their breakfast -- had a human inside it. They might have wondered at what sort of parasitic infection this special tree had and vow to be more diligent in future. I hope so. Once is a cute story, more than that might be a problem.


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