A Nest

A few weeks back, walking my dog Clementine through the little suburban woodlot across the street from my house, we came upon what seemed a scattering of fresh wood-shavings, as if someone had stood on that spot, leaning his back against the dead maple tree just beside the path, and whittled a stick. That was my first thought anyway. My second thought was, woodpecker! I looked up along the trunk of the dead maple and sure enough, about 15 feet from the ground was a perfectly round hole, maybe three inches in diameter, and clearly freshly "dug." It amazed me that the woodpecker could have chipped out a hole that deep, but I suppose that's exactly what it did. A little later I brought the Lovely L to see it, and the woodpecker was actually inside. We could just see her face as she gazed curiously and steadily back at us. And then this morning, walking Clementine again, I heard a commotion of peeping coming from the hole, and saw the mother (or was it the father?) on a nearby trunk, keeping a close eye on things. That non-stop frantic peeping, that just brought a smile to my face and also to L's. New life does that.