In Memorium

by

Pepper L. Bauer

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

Teri crept forward, heart pounding, petrified that her 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. Maybe this would be her lucky day.

Spotting a mossy stump, Teri cautiously sat down, her focal point still on the bird. She was very careful not to make any noise as she deliberately 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 her camera. If truly blessed, she might 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 shifted position as the hard working bird hopped to the next tree to continue his foraging. She 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. These carved out holes can be anywhere from 5 to 40 feet above the ground.

Teri smiled. With her luck, if she finds the nest, it will be closer to forty feet high. That would shoot her chances of a picture all to heck. She is way too old to shinny up trees.

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. She wiped the sweat from her brow. Maybe she would see inside the nest-hole after all.

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, she mulled 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.

Teri continued to contemplate. With homeowners' penchant for removing all dead trees and branches from their property, and many wooded regions being destroyed by new subdivisions and recreational areas, the natural environment for many species was rapidly declining. The bird she was watching, the Red-bellied woodpecker, is endangered in some places due to loss of habitat.

"Woodpeckers have been on earth for 25 million years", Teri thought morosely", "And because humans are so amazingly self-centered, their survival in some places is in jeopardy". 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 it's 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 jumped off her perch and scurried back to her hiding place behind the cottonwood.

Chest heaving, 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 mixing with the sweat on her face. What an extraordinary experience!

After catching her breath, Teri brushed herself off and put her gear back in the backpack. Slinging it 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 overgrown field that butted up against the forest. She wanted to soak up just a little more of nature's healing balm before she headed 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 land 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, the land would be tamed with rows of cloned houses, and tiny, identical yards, mailboxes and yard lights. To Teri, that was hell.

Teri had also heard through the grapevine that a country club, with a golf course, would accompany the sub-division. The whole concept reminded her 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 headed for home, pushing through the grassy pasture, the vigorous plants clinging to her legs as if to keep her there just a moment longer.

"Memorial weekend was 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.