In Memoriam

A red flash in the dark canopy of the forest caught Teri's attention, causing her to freeze in place. Slowly, she raised her binoculars to eye level and focused on the spot of color. Just as she suspected, a red-bellied woodpecker.

Her pulse pounded a marching cadence in her ears as Teri lowered the binoculars and painstakingly crept forward, petrified that any careless movement would spook the shy tree dweller. This was not a "life" bird for her; she had seen red-bellied woodpeckers before, but had never been fortunate enough to find a nest cavity to observe. She wiped the sweat from her brow. Maybe this would be her lucky day.

Spotting a mossy stump, Teri cautiously sank down, her focal point still on the bird. Carefully manipulating the straps, she slipped off her backpack and let it slide silently to the ground. Reaching inside, she fingered her ever-present birding journal, and carefully pulled it out, along with a pen and her camera. If the birding gods were truly smiling down on her she'd get a picture of the occupants of the nest.

Teri thought about the Red-bellied as she quietly wrote in her journal and watched him search for insects along a thick dead branch. It was a male. Handsome red feathers covered his head from the base of his sharp, chisel-like bill, to the nape of his neck.

The name Red-bellied is something of a misnomer for this sturdy bird, as his belly isn't really red. It has a faint pink wash that is viewed only in optimal conditions. Most people have never seen the bird's pink stomach feathers, so they often confuse him with a Red Headed Woodpecker because the Red-bellied's bright red head is so prominent.

Teri grimaced and shifted position as the hard working bird hopped to the next tree to continue his foraging. "Gettin' old", she thought, "stiffer than a board".

Stretching, Teri scanned the surrounding area for a dead tree with a fresh pile of wood chips littering the base, a sure sign of woodpecker activity. Red-bellies excavate cavities in dead trees 10 to 12 inches deep and 5 1/2 inches across to use as nests. She knew that they carved out these holes anywhere from 5 to 40 feet above the ground.

Teri smiled ruefully. With her luck, if she finds the nest, it'll be closer to forty feet high. That would shoot her chances of a picture all to hell; her tree climbing days were way behind her.

Suddenly, Teri spotted a heap of shavings at the bottom of an ancient deceased oak. Scrutinizing the trunk, she discovered a hole about seven feet high, and detected a gray head peering out. Her excitement mounted. Seven-foot wasn't too high, and there was a huge fallen tree laying next to the oak that she could stand on to look in the cavity.

A victorious grin spread across Teri's dirt stained face. Finally, the break she'd been hoping for.

Teri crawled forward and hunkered down behind an old cottonwood to observe the activity at the woodpecker nest. It was rare to find an unguarded Red-belly nest, as both parents incubate the eggs and tend the young. She didn't want to disturb the adults, so her only chance to see the inner sanctum of the woodpecker's home was to wait for both birds to be absent. This might never happen, but it was important enough to her that she was willing to sacrifice some time; so she got comfortable and kept her eyes riveted on the tree.

As Teri waited, her mind wandered, meandering over bird habitats and the beautiful, but endangered, woodland that she was enjoying on this Memorial Day weekend. It was an easy decision for her to take advantage of the holiday and do some birding in this region while she still could. Teri wrinkled up her forehead as she gazed at the beauty surrounding her. Unfortunately, the threat of development loomed over this magical place.

Perspiration tickled between Teri's breasts. She scratched aimlessly and continued to contemplate.

Homeowners had such an anal penchant for removing all the dead trees and branches from their property, and new subdivisions and recreational areas destroyed innumerable wooded areas. Thus, the natural environment for many species was rapidly declining. Even this once common Red-bellied is endangered in some areas due to loss of habitat.

"Woodpeckers have been on earth for 25 million years," Teri thought morosely, "And their survival in many places is being jeopardized by human self-centeredness." She thought about the awesome Ivory Billed Woodpecker already extinct in the south due entirely to the over cutting of the trees they desperately needed for food. It was just too depressing.

Teri shifted and stared up through the lacey screen of silhouetted leaves at a raptor floating effortlessly above in the unbelievably cobalt sky. A Blue Jay scolded her from a nearby tree limb. She sighed. It was so peaceful in this forest cathedral. She felt more serenity in here than in any church building. In this place, she felt closer to God.

All of a sudden, Teri stiffened as the male woodpecker returned to the nest-hole with a blurred flash of wings. He landed near the cavity and made soft "chirring" noises as he clung to the trunk, his stiff little tail helping him keep his balance. The female popped out to join him, stretching her wings and preening.

"This may be my chance," Teri whispered to herself as she hung the camera around her neck and tensed for action. "If they leave, I'm ready."

Abruptly, both Red-bellies launched themselves off the tree and with their distinctive undulating flight shot into the forest, wings reflecting the patchy sunlight.

Teri raced to the enormous petrified log, grasped the crumbling bark in her hands, and pulled herself up its soft green side. Squatting at the top, she carefully stood up and balancing on her tiptoes peered into the woodpeckers dark nest cavity. Eight shiny little eyes stared back at her.

Teri raised the camera to the opening in the tree and shot several photos. Taking one last look at the precious chicks, she slid off her perch and scurried back to her hiding place behind the cottonwood.

Panting, Teri looked around and saw no sign of the adult woodpeckers, so was reasonably certain she hadn't disturbed them. She leaned back against the rough bark of the aged tree and closed her eyes, tears leaving trails in the grime on her face. What an extraordinary experience!

After catching her breath, Teri brushed the debris off her clothes and put her gear back in the backpack. Slinging the pack over her shoulder, she reluctantly started hiking out of the forest. This area was one of her favorite birding spots, never failing to provide wonderful memories and an occasional "life" bird. She was really going to miss it.

At the edge of the woods, Teri stopped and rested against a regal oak, gazing out over the sun-washed, overgrown field that butted up against the forest. She wanted to soak up just a little more of nature's healing balm before heading back to the responsibilities and craziness of life.

A Kestrel Falcon hovered above some hapless prey in the tall grass, wings vibrating.
The loud caws of crows cut through the sleepy silence of a warm afternoon.
Killdeers, with nests hidden along the edge of the meadow, sped through the blue sky, white feathers shimmering as their distinctive calls mixed with the melodious song of the meadowlarks. This was heaven.

This precious haven had been part of a huge family farm, passed down through generations, natural and wild due to a decade of benign neglect. By this time next year, rows of cloned houses, and tiny, identical yards, mailboxes and yard lights would tame the land. To Teri, that was hell.

The rumor on the grapevine was that a country club, with a golf course, would accompany the sub-division. The whole concept reminded Teri of a motel toilet: nature "sanitized for your protection". Every time she thought of it, she wanted to cry.

The developers planned to name their new project "Wolf Stream". "How ironic," Teri thought. "Chase off all the critters, then name something after them. Nothing ever changes." It reminded her of an old joke she once heard about cutting down all the trees and naming streets after them. Not very funny.

With a great deal of effort, Teri tore herself away from the pastoral scene and trudged towards her car. Pushing through the grassy pasture, the vigorous plants clung to her legs as if trying to keep her with them just a moment longer.

"Memorial weekend is the perfect time to come out here and pay my respects", Teri mused. "I should pay my respects next year on Memorial Day too, after the houses are built." The suburbs always reminded her of cemeteries: graveyards for the wilderness. The yards are the graves and the houses the monuments.

Teri reached her car and glanced back at the forest one last time. A pair of Turkey Vultures circled high over the adjoining field, drifting lazily on the afternoon thermals. The poignancy of the scene was almost too much to bear.

As Teri drove away, tears blurring her vision, she couldn't help thinking that vultures were very appropriate.