RED-BELLIED IN REVERSE…

One of my favorite birds here along the river is the red-bellied woodpecker—though I’d be the first to admit I’ve never yet met a woodpecker species I didn’t like. Red-bellies are good-sized birds with striking black-and-white zebra-striped backs and colorful red-orange heads (nape and crown in the male; nape only in the female.) Still, don’t let their name fool you, because the red-bellied woodpecker is arguably the most misnamed bird around. Yes, there is a pale orange-buff wash on their bellies. But this namesake marking is often difficult to see afield. Even when one is working a feeder eighteen inches beyond the windowpane, you still might fail to see this orangish patch unless the woodpecker is turned just right. The bird’s most prominent feature is their red head area—but, of course, we already have a “red-headed” woodpecker. And “zebra-backed” woodpecker might cause confusion since several woodpecker species sport fairly similar back markings. Alas, I suppose we’re stuck with this misleading moniker, though I still think it badly misses the mark and shows a decided lack of naming creativity among the ornithological set. However, I’ll also conceed that in practice, the issue is usually moot, since even a beginning birder quickly learns to recognize a red-bellied from, say, a downy or hairy. Red-bellies are said to be expanding their numbers throughout their range. They’re certainly common here along the river. One or more are usually hanging around from dawn until dusk, either working the seed and suet feeders, or clambering up and down a nearby tree. This morning I spent perhaps half an hour watching a pair of red-bellies. The male arrived first. Though the suet feeders had just received a fresh cake, this breakfasteer preferred to take his meal from the cracked corn I’d scattered on the ground. Not unusual, since red-bellies are omnivores, eating everything from berries and fruit to bugs, and in winter, a wide variety of nuts, grains, and seeds. What was unusual was this particular red-bellied’s pre-feeding maneuvers. As I said, the cracked corn was on the ground beneath a big box elder near the cottage. The woodpecker would land about eight feet up on the tree’s trunk. Most woodpeckers are wary, and this red-bellied was no exception. For a minute or so he looked carefully about—turning his head this way and that, peering across the stream, at the house, looking over the yard, scrutinizing bushes and boulders, checking in every direction for potential danger. The perfect picture of pessimistic woodpecker paranoia. When the bird was finally satisfied the coast was clear, he headed for the corn on the ground—not by dropping for a flap-fly landing as you might expect, though, but via backing. Herky-jerky reverse all the way. Yes, I know nuthatches are the down-the-tree-face-first experts among local birds, and that all woodpeckers typically back down trees when feeding. But this one wasn’t feeding, just heading to where the food was, which—as mentioned—was a fair distance away. Plus there were obstacles in the form of two big limbs which the backing bird had to negotiate around on his way earthward. What I found interesting—and more than a bit amusing—was the way that red-capped fellow kept craning his head, trying to look behind at where he was heading, checking the path he had to take to swerve around the blocking limbs on his way to the free eats. More than once he was forced to pause, pull forward, make a correction in angle, and try again. I swear, that little woodpecker looked for all the world like a first-time boater trying to back a trailer down the launch ramp. And I kept thinking what that goofy woodpecker really needs is a good set of rearview mirrors. Once he’d set up on the corn, the red-bellied would feed voraciously for maybe two minutes. Then, as if alarmed at something, he’d suddenly take off. A few seconds later the female would land on the trunk of the box elder, at more or less the same landing spot as her mate. After going through her version of a red-bellied security check, she also came down and fed a minute or two on the cracked corn before abruptly flying away. The interesting thing was, when the female red-bellied had done her look-around and it came time to eat, unlike her mate, she took the quick route down—a simple (and far more graceful) flap-drop. Now, if I were sexist, I’d suggest the female red-bellied (being, so to speak, a “female driver”) wasn’t quite so adapt at executing the long-haul reverse maneuver all the way down the tree to the ground. But my money says she—like a lot of females, and not just among woodpeckers—was simply more practical, less a time-waster and show-off, and smarter than her mate. Whatever the reason, when she’d done her look-around and it came time to eat, the female woodpecker took the quick route down—a simple (and far more graceful) flap-drop. I watched the pair take a dozen turns at their feeding routines: the male always backed down the tree’s trunk to the corn, the female always flew. I hesitate to bring this up, but I do believe there’s a lesson in there….