Reddy Woodpecker stared at him in amazement. "Where's your home?" he asked Mr. Flicker. "Is your home on the ground?"
"Bless you, no!" cried Mr. Flicker. "I'm no ground bird. My wife and I have a fine hole in an old apple tree in the orchard."
Reddy Woodpecker had to approve of that, anyhow. So he nodded his red-capped head.
"You're sensible in one way, at least," he remarked. "That's the way to live, if only you build high enough, out of harm's way."
Mr. Flicker grinned at him.
"It's plain that you don't know we Flickers are sometimes called High-holes," he said, "because of the way we nest."
"Ah! So you have two names, eh?" Reddy Woodpecker exclaimed, as he speared a grub with his tongue and drew it out from under a bit of bark. "I should think you'd find that confusing. I should think you'd forget who you were, sometimes."
"Oh! It's easy when you get used to it," Mr. Flicker replied. He paused to capture another ant. And then he added, "I have more than just two names. I have one hundred and twenty-four in all."
"My goodness!" cried Reddy. He was so astonished that he missed a stab at a fine grub that was right under his nose. "My goodness! Has your wife as many names as that?"
"Yes!" said Mr. Flicker.