The Woodpecker Log
 

Some time ago, I was out birding in late-fall around Lake Henshaw, hoping to spot some elusive Wild Turkeys and maybe the Mountain Quail or a sporadic Lewis’ Woodpecker. Wild turkeys have become more common here in the mountains of San Diego County. Over the years they were introduced in to the Palomar Mountain range and adjacent foothills where acorns, pinion nuts and wild fruits abound. Though not always easy to observe, this particular band of wild turkeys have become much more plentiful and are doing quite well.

Lake Henshaw is actually a runoff reservoir not unlike most in Southern California. These reservoirs can range in depth from shallow to fairly deep and cover a few square miles. Lake Henshaw is fairly shallow and generally about a mile wide and three miles long with a couple of canyon arms extending a few hundred yards. Surrounded by grassy mountain meadows, oaks and cattle pastures, Lake Henshaw is known for its hefty bluegill, crappie and a few largemouth bass.

A small number of bald eagles show up here in mid-winter, especially, when the rains are plentiful and the lake is up. Now it’s a real treat to observe this majestic raptor here, because this area is pretty far south for these fish lovers to appear because compared to they are used to, fishing is sparse. The seasonal window of observation is about eight to ten weeks, beginning in January. Those few weeks is about all the time they hang around here in San Diego County. They are usually gone by March-April.

Actually, besides a selfish day of birding, I had a special thing in mind. I had come to Lake Henshaw for the purpose of photographing a gnarly old cottonwood tree. This particular stately tree had had my admiration for many years. It stands alone on dry pasture ground at the headwaters of the lake. Being old, huge and rustic, it is a very picturesque tree that is now in its fall yellow color. I got out my trusty old 35 mm, Pentax Spotmatic and a couple of lenses to capture this timeless portrait silhouetted against the surrounding idyllic mountains and western sky. (Though not that long ago, it seems like it was way… back before I knew anything of a Nikon D70, Digital Camera.) There is something about the feel and sound of the manual operation of this old camera that makes any photographic experience seem more fulfilling. Like sanitized sound tracks, so too are many of the sanitized digital photos. It just seems that an old tree or an old anything, should be photographed with an old un-sanitized camera, maybe by an old man like me. After all, it’s about reverence and respect for such unpolluted and un-pixilated surroundings.

Anyways, I hiked in about a quarter of a mile and got my pictures. On the way out through in a stand of tall cottonwoods and sycamores, I spotted a hollow sycamore log on the ground. It was about ten feet long and fourteen inches in diameter and drilled full of woodpecker holes. It displayed the remnants of the past—Acorn Woodpecker activity. It had three nest-hole cavities and many small acorn holes. I said to myself, “this log is going in my yard.” I had in mind just the place for it on the embankment of ivy, where a dead California Holly (Toyon) tree stands, close to the bird feeders. I struggled hard to put it on my shoulder and finally got it to my Jeep Cherokee. Securing it to the roof rack, I hauled it home. I pounded a long metal stake in the ground and put the hollow limb over it in an upright position and wired it tightly to the trunk of the dead Toyon tree. What a natural beauty, a perfect fit in our yard! We can observe it from our kitchen table, near the bird feeders. 

Lo ‘n behold! The first thing I knew, here comes a Nuttall’s Woodpecker to check it out. Peering in and out of each hole and investigating all the cracks and crevices, we had a real show for breakfast. In fact this went on morning and evening on a regular basis. Then, shortly here came a Northern Flicker and soon both the woodpecker and the flicker are doing a territorial dance up and down and around this upright log.

It was such an enjoyable sight, that I wondered how I could keep them coming back. I thought, well, the acorn holes are natural feeding holes so why not get out the peanut butter? I stuffed a few holes with peanut butter and sure enough, both the Nuttall’s Woodpecker and the Northern Flicker began making regular return visits to feed on the peanut butter. After a week or so a Mountain Chickadee and a White-breasted Nuthatch began showing up and feeding on the “woodpecker log”. Now, here near the coast of So Cal, we don’t see chickadees and nuthatches. The local literature indicates maybe only rarely. So, what a treat! While it’s not uncommon for both the chickadee and the nuthatch to be seen together, here, they are both out of their typical environment, together! So, I wonder who led whom? I suspect the gregarious and curious chickadee is the leader.

Well, it doesn’t end there. After awhile the White-crowned Sparrows caught on and tried to cling to the hollow trunk in an effort to get a taste of the peanut butter. So, I accommodated them with a couple of twig perches stuck in an acorn hole. This “woodpecker log” soon became a gourmet feeding post for all sorts of species not normally found at the supper table together. Not to be outdone, here comes the noisy Scrub Jay comes dashing in with his typical scare-‘em-off approach. Scrub Jays prove to be real hogs with a caching instinct. This prompts me to fashion some wire mesh feeder-cones that I wedged into the nesting holes and filled them with peanut butter. But, in order to control the amount of peanut butter that I am now putting out everyday, I have to come up with a way to allow the woodpeckers and others to continue feeding while controlling the Scrub Jays. About a third of the log the log had a slight curve near the top, and two nesting holes. So, I leaned it forward on such an angle that the woodpeckers could still hang on by their toenails and tail support to feed, but the Scrub Jays couldn’t hang on such an upside down angle. I wrapped a single strand of barbed wire around the log to aid the woodpeckers and flickers to find footing and it worked.

All this avian activity on the “woodpecker log” took place throughout fall, winter and spring. About June as the White-crowned Sparrows departed southern Cal for their breeding grounds, I stopped putting peanut butter in the “woodpecker log”. Except for the Scrub Jays, woodpeckers, flickers all the other birds also changed their habits.

Now is a surprising and curious happening. Here comes the arrival of fall and late October, the following year, and right on time, the white-crowns have returned again. Interestingly, though, I had put no peanut butter in the woodpecker log—that is— until today, December 21st.  Curiously, for a few weeks since their fall arrival, I noticed that about a half a dozen White-crowned Sparrows kept flitting up and inspecting the tree, seemingly looking for the peanut butter. To my surprise, these birds had apparently remembered this food source from last year! There seems to be no other explanation, since they did not exhibit this unusual behavior over any other tree or stump. So, I accommodated them today and bingo, they are all over it. Is it possible that these short, little birdbrains have a long-term memory, season to season, from one migratory location to another? Their curious behavior sure makes it seem so. Except for the hoggish Scrub Jays, the flickers, woodpeckers and others have yet to return to the peanut butter on a regular basis.

So, yes, I did observe wild turkeys around Lake Henshaw that day, and a few brightly marked Lark Sparrows, but no Mountain Quail or Lewis’ Woodpeckers. However, I got a beautiful, un-sanitized, picture of that old cottonwood tree. It’s scanned as wallpaper on my computer where it gets a lot of oohs and aahs. Every time that happens, it prompts me to explain and recount the whole experience in detail. That’s when I have to show them the old hollow limb that has become the “woodpecker log”, and explain how it has brought us the immeasurable joy of backyard birding, right from our breakfast table! —And, sometimes, another birder is born.

Ed Keenan © 2007

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