“That bird you see there,” said he, “with green plumage and a red head, is a woodpecker. It has several different cries. If it is going to rain it says plieu, plieu, in a long-drawn and plaintive tone. When at work, in order to keep up its spirits it every now and then gives a harsh cry, tiackackan, [[170]]tiackackan, so that the whole forest echoes with it. In the nesting season it gives a quick teo, teo, teo, just like what you heard a moment ago.”
“Then it has its nest now in the beech grove?” asked Jules.
Piculet
(A small soft-tailed woodpecker)
“It is at work on it, for all the morning I’ve heard it hammering away with all its might. You see, it makes its nest in a hole that it hollows out by pecking the trunk of a tree with its beak. It’s a fine beak it has, too, so hard and pointed that the bird is always afraid of going too deep into the wood. So after two or three good hard pecks it skips round to the other side of the trunk to see if it hasn’t bored clear through.”
“Bah! you’re only in fun,” returned Jules.
“Not at all,” protested Jacques; “it’s what I’ve heard said, and I’ve often seen the woodpecker hurry round to look at the other side of the trunk.”
“But the bird must have some other reason than just to see whether or not the tree is bored through. I’m going to ask Uncle.”
“Ask him, too, if he knows the ironweed that the woodpecker rubs its beak on to make it harder than steel.” [[171]]