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Pileated Woodpecker : An Ogemaw County Year

This post is part of a project in the works; "An Ogemaw County Year".  The blog and eventually the book will encompass nature noticing, research and facts over the course of a year with a watercolor painting for each entry. Originals and prints will be available via the website as they are completed and prepped and the book will be available upon completion.

 

In the quiet week between Christmas and New Years, Northern Michigan's forest lies blanketed under a thick layer of snow. The once vibrant woods have quieted, the trees now bare and the underbrush buried beneath the icy cover. But even in this frozen landscape, life persists, and the drumming of the pileated woodpeckers is a familiar sound echoing through the stillness.


The pileated woodpeckers in our back yard are a mated pair, their bond formed through a shared life cycle that plays out across the seasons. The male is a striking figure, his black body contrasting with the brilliant crimson crest that crowns his head. His face is adorned with a bold red mustache stripe that runs from the base of his bill down his throat, a feature that sets him apart from his mate. The female, equally majestic, lacks the red mustache stripe, her face marked instead by a more subtle black line. Her crest, while just as vibrant, seems softer against the pale winter backdrop.


The pair have been together for several years and we see them almost daily. Their bond has been solidified through the cycle of courtship, nesting, and rearing young. Each spring, they renew their bond with a courtship dance, the male bobbing his head and displaying his crest to impress his mate. Together, they search for a suitable tree, often an old, decaying one, where they can excavate a nesting cavity. The male takes the lead in the excavation, using his powerful beak to carve out a deep chamber, while the female assists, taking turns to ensure the cavity is large enough to house their future brood.


In late spring, the female lays her eggs, usually three to five, white and smooth, nestled safely in the dark chamber of their nest. Both parents share the duty of incubating the eggs, the male often taking the night shift, while the female takes over during the day. After about two weeks, the eggs hatch, and the parents' roles shift to feeding and protecting their vulnerable chicks.


By summer, the chicks grow rapidly, their demanding calls filling the forest as their parents tirelessly hunt for insects to feed them. The male and female work in tandem, their powerful beaks probing beneath the bark of trees, pulling out beetle larvae, ants, and other insects that make up the bulk of their diet. As the weeks pass, the chicks gain strength, their feathers filling in, and by early summer, they are ready to fledge, leaving the nest to begin their own journey through the forest.


Now, in the heart of winter, the woodpeckers' life cycle has come full circle. Their nesting duties are behind them, and they have returned to a simpler routine, focused on survival. The suet feeders hanging in the clearing have become a crucial part of this routine, offering a high-energy food source that helps sustain them through the cold months.


Every morning, as the sun struggles to rise above the snow-covered trees, the pair arrive at the feeders. The male, his bright crest stark against the white landscape, lands first, his weight causing the feeder to swing slightly. He attacks the suet with gusto, his powerful beak making quick work of the frozen cake. The female, more reserved, joins him, her dark eyes scanning the area before she begins to feed. Together, they chip away at the frozen suet, dropping bits of suet for the mourning doves below.


Despite the cold, the woodpeckers thrive, their resilience a testament to the strength of their bond and the adaptability of their species. Even as the forest sleeps under the snow, the pileated woodpeckers remain active, their presence a reminder of the life that continues to pulse through the winter wilderness.


Their daily visits bring a sense of continuity to the season, a small but vital connection to the rhythms of nature. And as the woodpeckers finish their meal and fly off into the forest, their loud calls echoing through the trees, the feeders stand empty once again, waiting for me to go out and add more suet.


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