With the probable extinction of the ivory bill woodpecker in the Southeast, the pileated is the largest of the woodpeckers in North America, similar in size to crows. They have a distinctive “mocking laughter” call reminiscent of the cartoon character Woody the Woodpecker. The name pileated actually refers to the red crest that runs along its head. Males can be distinguished from females by a red mustache stripe behind their beaks.

Woodpeckers use their powerful beaks to hammer holes in trees in search of insects, and the drumming noise also stakes out their territory. Pileated woodpeckers will bore deep into the truck of a tree in search of carpenter ants and beetle larvae, their holes differing from other woodpeckers by their rectangle shape. They will excavate cavities in dead standing trees called snags that are big enough to lay eggs and rear young. When the pileateds move out other animals such as squirrels, owls, and ducks use these cavities, making some of these snags apartments for numerous animals.

It is easy to wonder how these birds don’t end up rattling their brains with all that pounding. Recent studies have found that these birds can transfer up to 99% of the pecking force away from the head and into the body. Studying these birds has even helped in research to reduce head trauma in humans.

Many woodpeckers also have incredible long tongues with sticky bards that help them rake ants and insects out of crevices in the trees. Sometimes these tongues are so long that the muscle wraps around the outside of the skull and terminates in a nostril. Pileateds, however, have relatively short tongues. This is partly because their powerful beaks can penetrate deeper into a tree than many other woodpeckers.                   

Watching a woodpecker fly from tree to tree it is easy to be amazed how they can land directly on the vertical surface of a tree trunk. Woodpeckers use their strong stiff tail feathers like a kickstand that allows them to stand on vertical trunks while they hammer away in search of food.

Pileated woodpeckers range across a large territory east of the Rockies to the north and south, but west of the Rockies they are found mostly in mature northern forests. Their presence indicates a healthy forest habitat with a mix of mature and standing dead trees with little human disturbance.

In many western Native American tribes the presence of a woodpecker is a sign of friendship and happiness. Certainly for me it truly was a happy experience to be gliding through the woods on skis at the same speed as my new, winged pileated friend.

Originally published as “Close Encounter of the Pileated Kind” in the March-April 2021 issue.

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Continued reports of sick or dead birds at backyard feeders across Washington and other Northwest states prompted the Washington Department of Fish and Wildlife (WDFW) to recommend people continue to leave their wild bird feeders down or to take extra steps to maintain them this winter. “You can help to stop the spread of salmonellosis by discontinuing backyard bird feeding until at least April 1 to encourage birds to disperse and forage naturally,” says WDFW veterinarian Dr. Kristin Mansfield. With spring food sources emerging, WDFW had updated their warning to say that slowly adding back in clean bird feeders is now possible. Read the updated FAQ here.

The department first asked residents to remove or clean feeders in February in response to a die-off of finches, such as pine siskins, as well as other songbirds. Salmonellosis, a common and usually fatal bird disease caused by the salmonella bacteria is to blame. When birds flock together in large numbers at feeders, they can transmit the disease through droppings and saliva. 

Signs of Bird Sickness

The first signs that a bird may have salmonellosis is often a seemingly tame bird on or near a feeder. Birds infected with salmonella become very lethargic, fluff out their feathers, and are easy to approach. Unfortunately, at this point there is very little people can do to treat them. The best course it to leave these birds alone and report them (as well as any dead birds) via WDFW’s online reporting tool.

WDFW explains that discontinuing feeding of wild birds will not leave them without food supplies during the winter and spring months. “Birds use natural food sources year-round, even while also using backyard bird feeders, so they should be fine without the feeders for another month,” Mansfield says.

Clean Feeders Daily

If people do not choose to remove bird feeders, please clean them daily by first rinsing well with warm soapy water, then dunking in a solution of nine parts water and one part bleach. Finish by rinsing and drying before refilling.

Also please reduce the number of feeders to a number you can clean daily, as well as using feeders that accommodate fewer birds (such as tubes rather than platforms) and spreading out feeder locations. Keep the ground below bird feeders clean by raking or shoveling up feces and seed casings and turn over or cover bird baths so birds cannot access them.

It is possible, although uncommon, for salmonella bacteria to transfer from birds to humans through direct contact with infected birds, droppings, or through domestic cats that catch sick birds. When handling birds, bird feeders, or bird baths, it is best to wear gloves and wash hands thoroughly afterward.

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After decades of contentedly snubbing both casual and serious bird watchers, I have recently felt an obligation to know birds. A grown adult should be able to distinguish sparrow from swallow and nuthatch from wren. I guess I’d begun to feel alone in my ornithological ignorance. Where birding was once the domain of the aged and uncool, it seems that birding is now cool. And I, it seems, am now aged.   

It’s true; I could have lived out my days in birding ignorance. There is no universal obligation to know the names of birds. There are plenty of non-birders out there. But I couldn’t help wondering if there was something wrong with me, some page missing in my book, some memo I failed to read. Maybe bird watching was a natural stage in human development that I was unable to attain.  

Coaching myself to begin somewhere, I sat on my porch, necklaced in binoculars, clutching “The Sibley Guide to Birds.” Training my eyes past the robins hunting on the lawn, I sought out the forgettable types: dull, fist-sized, and fidgety. They fluttered about, but I could not get a good look at them. The light conspired against me, casting shadows on their breasts and turning blues to blacks. Their size shrunk with distance and grew in flight. I sat and watched birds come and go, whole categories and types of birds that narrowed into species and sub-species, specific patterns for males and females, juveniles and adults. Perched there, I felt small and stupid. So many birds, so little time.  

Birding brings up a familiar feeling of resistance that I associate with a lack of personal agency. It’s that response to failure that makes you throw your hands in the air and exclaim how you cannot do everything. I cannot keep up with the news. Nor can I remember which personal hygiene products are laced with harmful chemicals. I can bring cloth bags to the grocery store, but I cannot prevent that tidal wave of slim plastic bags, so readily issued, from killing gulls. My hand-wringing will not prevent climate change, will not bring the salmon back into my river, will not keep winter snow from melting to rain. I have entered a new season of life, and I am alarmed by my lack of courage. There are so many things I cannot do.  

So, I download the Audubon app. The app tells me the red-breasted nuthatch lives in coniferous forests across the whole of North America. It keeps its head down and sings “a tinny yank-yank.” The nuthatch, says Audubon, may be “overlooked until it wanders down the tree toward the ground.”  

Reading the description, it occurred to me that I’d seen a nuthatch before. I saw one in the spring, hopping down the side of a fir tree near Waikiki Springs. I had paused to look at it. In retrospect, this sighting felt like progress. I was momentarily elated.  

Days later a bird sang outside the window of my bedroom. It woke me and I imagined it to be a rare songbird migrating across the state. I turned to my husband and asked, full of wonder, if he heard the songbird, too. Yes, he told me. It’s a robin. 

A robin.  

A small crisis erupted in my mind. Had I never given my full attention to the song of robin? One of the few birds that actually stands still in my yard as it tugs worms from the soil? If I had never heard a robin sing, what else had I missed?  

It dawned on me, then, that I had been missing a lot of the world around me. Only recently have I begun to listen with new ears, see with new eyes, both captivated by my sense of wonder and confused by it. Why birds and trees and rivers, and why now? What took me so long to see these things? The change in me feels surprising. What else am I capable of learning?  

My progress as a birder is sluggish. I am a better botanist, a fact that confounds me, since I find botany even more tedious than ornithology. But I’m coming around to birds. I’m starting to see and hear them with more interest and less baggage.  

I shooed a Cooper’s Hawk from my chicken coop this fall and confronted a Great Horned owl on a dark evening walk near my house. I take these discoveries as signs of a growing mind, a youthful outlook. I am still developing, it seems, not aged or uncool at all. 

This story was originally published as “To the Birds” in the Last Page department of the December 2019 issue.

Heidi Lasher is a freelance writer and communications consultant. She can correctly identify most cat-sized (or larger) birds, but still struggles with the smaller ones because there are so many and they all look the same.  

Find more stories about birding in the OTO archives.

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This May’s Field Days are focusing on wild birds, and you don’t have to be a grade-school student to get involved. The WRI partners with the Leavenworth Bird Fest from May 16-19 to celebrate the return of migratory birds in the midst of peak wildflower season. The weekend is packed with field trips for kids and grown ups such as Birding by River Raft, Birding by Big Canoe, Birds & Beer, and Bikes & Birds. Free family activities for all ages include the Blackbird Island Family Bird Walk and bilingual activities with Team Naturaleza.

Rachel Bishop is the community education lead for the WRI and leads events such as Breakfast and Birding, Sleeping Lady Bird Walk, and the Owl Prowl. One of her favorite events to recommend is the birding by river raft trips. “It’s a cool and unique kind of birding. You get close to the birds. It’s really quiet on the water and you can sneak up on them.”

She says it’s relaxing and interesting to see a wide range of birds that nest in and rely on riparian zones, such swallows eating insects on the water’s surface. She also reports seeing Bullock’s orioles, bald eagles, and osprey. The float lasts two hours and connects the Icicle to the Wenatchee River.  She reckons that a lot of birders come from across the country to view the white-headed woodpecker because it’s so specific to eastern Washington. “We don’t have it on west side, probably because it lives off of and east insects on ponderosa pines.”

The Leavenworth Bird Fest is a great opportunity for lifelong birders to tick a few more birds off their life lists and for the bird-curious to learn more about this species-rich region. //

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