By Warren Uxley, Crawford Park District Naturalist
The red-headed woodpecker is one of my favorite birds. The dapper combination of black and white body and brilliant crimson head make it a stunning accent to the open woodland habitats where it is found. It’s always a thrill to see one.
This past summer I had the opportunity to observe a pair of red-heads go through courtship and the initial stages of the nesting cycle before disaster struck. It was a great learning experience that, unfortunately, came to a tragic end.
It was the 25th of May when I heard a random but continuous tapping sound coming from a long-dead tree. Curious, I circled the snag and discovered a woodpecker entrance; I then patiently waited for the occupant to emerge. Several minutes go by before a woodpecker’s red head suddenly fills the hole. The bird flies to a nearby tree, it holds fast to the trunk, its feet and rigid tail feathers forming the three legs of a tripod that enable it to effortlessly sit there and examine me at its leisure.
Through my binoculars I notice that the normally snow-white wing patches are flecked with gray-brown, a clear indication that this bird is only one year old. Carrying an acorn, a second red-head lands close to the first and offers its morsel to its mate – I now know that the one year old bird is a female. Acorns often form a large part of the diet of red-heads in the winter but it’s a surprise to find out that they are still on the menu in late May. The female accepts the offering and the male then mates with his younger partner. This scenario repeats itself several more times in the coming days.
At this time, most red-headed pairs have young that are within a few days of fledging; indeed many young have already fledged. I can’t help but wonder why this pair is so far behind their brethren. Did their first nesting attempt fail? Did the young female need a few extra weeks to become sexually mature? I’ll never know with certainty, but I tend to think that the second explanation is the more likely one. Many first year birds do not breed and those that do are far more likely to have problems that are related to their immaturity and lack of experience.
Despite the late start, the pair finish excavating the nest cavity and then lay eggs, the incubation period progresses without incident and I finally see the adults delivering food to young. All is as it should be.
Certain aspects of their behavior put the redheaded woodpeckers in peril. They like woodland edges and often fly low along the roadsides that create the edge habitat that they prefer. They also scavenge dead insects – killed by passing vehicles – from the road surface; another activity that can place them in harm’s way. The nest I have been observing is only twenty feet from a country road where the speed limit is often ignored.
I arrive one evening to continue my observations; I get out of my truck, I walk towards the nest tree, I look down and there on the side of the road is a dead red-headed woodpecker. There is flecking in the white wing patches, the female has been struck by a car.
I return the following day to see if the male will continue feeding the young on his own. I wait and watch for three hours, I will never see the male again. Some unknown algorithm in his avian brain needed the constant input of a partner helping him, without it, the feeding instinct shut down. The young are left to starve