HABITS
I can remember as clearly as if it were only yesterday my boyish, enthusiastic admiration for this beautiful bird, though it was between 50 or 60 years ago that my father first showed me a freshly killed flicker. I was simply entranced with the softly blended browns, the red crescent on the head, the black crescent and bold spotting on the breast, and, above all, with the golden glow in the wings and tail. Few birds combine such charming colors and pleasing contrasts. I have never lost my admiration for it, and still consider it one of nature’s gems.
It, and its close relative, the red-shafted flicker, together are widely distributed over nearly all the wooded regions of North America. Consequently it is widely known and over most of its range is a common and familiar species. Its prominence and popularity are attested by the long list of vernacular names by which it is locally known. Franklin L. Burns (1900), in his monograph of the species, lists 123 such names; and later he adds nine more, bringing the list up to 132 names. These are far too many to be quoted here, and many of them are “very local or very slight orthographical or cacographical variants.” I have always loved our local name “partridge woodpecker,” suggestive of my boyhood days, when flickers, meadowlarks, and robins were considered legitimate game. But now the name yellow-shafted flicker seems appropriate to distinguish it, from the red-shafted flicker.
The haunts of the flicker are almost everywhere in open country or lightly wooded regions; it can hardly be called a forest-loving species, though I have often found it nesting in more or less extensive deciduous woods; its favorite haunts during the summer seem to be in the rural districts among the farms, orchards, and scattered woodlots; it seems to be at home, also, in villages and small towns, and even in some of the smaller cities, where spacious grounds and gardens provide suitable surroundings. In fall and winter it is more apt to wander about in open woodlands, fields, and meadows or seek shelter in coniferous woods or swamps.
Spring.—Although many flickers remain all winter in the Northern States, there is a decided spring migration of the great bulk of northern-bred birds that have wintered in the Southern States. These birds gather in flocks during the late winter, and the northward movement starts with the first mild weather, the migration being largely performed during the night. Mr. Burns (1900) says that at Berwyn, Pa., the forerunners, consisting of solitary old males, appear “as early as Feb. 2 or as late as April 6, according to the promises of the season, correlating in a measure with the date at which the first frog is heard peeping. * * *
“It becomes common soon after the hardy willow has unfolded its leaves, and about the time the fragrant spicewood blossoms, when the ants, spiders and beetles become active once more, and just in the height of the arbutus season. The northward movement is far from being steady or regular, being largely governed by weather conditions; Mr. Burns calculates from his mass of data that the average distance traveled daily is about 12 miles, varying according to season and weather conditions from 7 to 48 miles per night. It is absolutely certain that it does not move steadily night after night, but only as the weather permits or necessitates and its physical condition allows.”
Flickers often migrate in companies of considerable size, in loose, scattered flocks, noisy and active, flying from tree to tree and calling excitedly. Their arrival is announced by the loud challenge-call, given from the top of some tall tree, wicker, wicker, wicker, or wake-up, wake-up, wake-up, as the male challenges his rivals or invites his prospective mate to join him in courtship. This, one of the most welcome sounds of early spring, is indeed a call to “wake up,” for all nature is awakening, buds are swelling on the trees, verdure is appearing in the woods and fields, the early flowers are beginning to blossom, the hylas are peeping in the warming pools, insects are becoming active, and the songs of the early birds announce that spring is here. Another spring sound soon strikes our ears, a loud, far-reaching, vibrant sound, the long, almost continuous roll of the flicker’s drumming, another challenge-call, a preliminary of the courtship performance; at frequent intervals, often repeated over a long period in early morning, he beats his loud tattoo on some hollow, resonant limb.
Courtship.—The courtship of the flicker is a lively and spectacular performance, noisy, full of action, and often ludicrous, as three or more birds of both sexes indulge in their comical dancing, nodding, bowing, and swaying motions, or chase each other around the trunk or through the branches of a tree. From the time of Audubon to the present day, many observers have noted and described the curious antics of this star performer. But I prefer to quote first from some extensive notes recently contributed by Francis H. Allen, as follows: “The courtship of the flicker is an elaborate and somewhat puzzling performance. Two birds face each other on the branch of a tree or cling side by side, though at a little distance apart, on the trunk, and spread their tails and jerk their heads about in a sort of weaving motion, frequently uttering a note that is peculiar to this performance, a wick-up or week-up. The head motion is a series of backward jerks with the bill pointing up at an angle of perhaps 60° and the head at the same time swinging from side to side. Sometimes a short, low wuck is uttered from time to time during the performance. These bouts occur not only between male and female, but frequently between two males or two females.
“In April 1934, for more than a week I saw a trio of flickers about my house. Invariably the two females went through courtship antics together, while the male fed on the ground nearby, apparently completely indifferent to them. One of the females was much more active than the other, which usually kept a stiff pose with head drawn in, only occasionally responding with feeble head-waggings. At no time did the active female use any other display than the head-wagging, and there was never any suggestion of combat or intimidation.
“A year later, 1935, the flickers near my house behaved differently. In the afternoon of April 24, the two males were singing loudly and frequently in the woods, about an eighth of a mile away and at some distance apart. By singing I mean, of course, the prolonged laughing call of wick-wick-wick, etc. Presently they stopped singing, and one flew toward the other, stopping about halfway. Very soon the other joined him, and a long period of posturing and wick-up-ing ensued. Both birds had the black mustaches of the male. The posturing was the regular ‘weaving’ of the head and the fanning of the tail. The notes, after the first at least, were much subdued in tone. There were frequent intervals of quiet. The birds kept close together most of the time, often with heads only two or three inches apart, or perhaps less. They flitted about frequently, sometimes clinging to the trunk of an oak, sometimes perched on a horizontal branch, and once or twice they alighted on the stems of underbrush. After a long period of posturing, they met in a momentary tilt, and presently there was another clash after more posturing, then a third clash, and after that they separated. The same bird was the aggressor in at least two of the clashes. As often in such encounters, the attacked bird stood his ground and the attacker veered off. It was very mild warfare, if it was really serious at all.