This election has left many of us a bit shaken in our beliefs and buffeted by fear and doubt. The yammering and hammering are unrelenting. Never has a bird that smashes its head into wood up to 20 times a second been more relatable.
We all could use thicker skulls these days. If only we were more like Picidae, the woodpecker family — they actually have thicker skulls, built to withstand forces 1,000 times that of gravity. How useful would that be right about now?
Woodpecker physiology has long been scrutinized by scientists hoping to discover how the bird avoids brain injury given its tree-bashing lifestyle. For years it was assumed that the tough, spongy bone of a woodpecker’s skull acted as a sort of shock absorber, cushioning its birdy brain from repeated percussion. However, recent studies have shown that a woodpecker’s brain moves in near-perfect tandem with its bill as it hammers away but, because of the brain’s small size — 700 times smaller than a human brain — plus its snug fit inside the brain case, it doesn’t slosh around and sustain damage like a human’s would if we butted trees 12,000 times a day, or were subjected to 12,000 campaign ads.
Pecking wood is pretty much what woodpeckers do all day, every day — they excavate dead wood to dig out bugs to eat or build a cavity to nest in. Sometimes they’re tapping out a message to other woodpeckers (called “drumming,” a sort of bird Morse code) to attract mates or stake out their territory. Their sharp, rugged bills are perfectly designed for all that impact. These amazing birds have stiff, pointed tailfeathers to help them balance as they ascend tree trunks, and to help them get a grip their feet are zygodactyl, meaning they have two toes in front and two in back.
Below are four species of woodpecker that are regulars along coastal Humboldt. All share the characteristic undulating flight that’ll help lead you to family Picidae; careful observation should do the rest.
Downy and Hairy Woodpeckers
These two species are very similar in color and shape. They’ve successfully adapted to suburbia and can be found at suet feeders, in city parks and just about anywhere there’s wood. A Downy Woodpecker is quite dainty compared to its larger cousin, sparrow-sized with a black and white striped face, white breast, black wings speckled with white, black tail and a white back that looks like a stripe between its dark wings. Males have a patch of red on the nape (back of the head). Downies make a soft “pik!” call as well as a descending rattle or “whinny.”
Hairy Woodpeckers are hefty birds, almost robin-sized, but otherwise very similar to Downy Woodpeckers. Strictly speaking, they’re not actually hairy; the name comes from the same white back feathers they share with their diminutive cousin. Besides their bigger size, which can be difficult to assess in the field, there are a couple of good field marks to separate the two. Both birds have white outer tail feathers, but you can usually see black spots on a downy’s, while a hairy’s is plain white. Bill length is another clue: the downy’s bill is small, like the bill for a mocha latte and a slug from Los Bagels, while the hairy’s is substantially bigger, like the kind of “pow” bill you get from the IRS when you inadvertently underpay your taxes and get hit with interest and late fees. So if you’re on the ID fence, study that bill.
Hairy calls are bigger and louder, too, a sharp “peek!” that sometimes has a sputtering rattle thrown in for good measure.
Northern Flicker
The Northern Flicker is another bird that’s found a home close to human habitation. You might see one gleaning insects from last fall’s apples or digging for ants in the grass. It’s a large, uniquely patterned woodpecker that’s brownish overall but accessorized with a black barring across its back and wings, a black bib and a pale belly covered in black spots. The males have a dapper red mustache.
That’s what you’ll see when the flicker is stationary, but a fun surprise awaits when it takes flight: the feathers under the wings and tail are brilliant red and there’s an eye-catching white rump patch. Or if you’re lucky you might encounter the eastern or “yellow-shafted” subspecies, which has bright yellow underwings and a black mustache. Both versions have a strident “wicka-wicka-wicka” call, as well as a single loud “kyeer” note that has some serious decibels behind it.
Pileated Woodpecker
The magnificent Pileated Woodpecker is a favorite among many birders. You’ll probably hear a pileated before you see it; its call is a raucous series of ear-splitting notes that rise and fall like riotous laughter. And you’ll never mistake the drumming of a pileated for the tapety-tapping of one of its smaller relatives — the pileated’s bam-bam-bam will have you thinking a carpenter is next door hammering.
While it’s the same combo of black, white and red as a Downy or Hairy Woodpecker, the similarities end there. A pileated is the Woody Woodpecker of birds, almost as large as a crow, with a long sturdy bill, a cheeky red crest and a comparatively long black and white striped neck. Its body appears all black but in flight, it flashes bold white wing patches. It’s a stunner. There’s no wonder its very similar relative, the Ivory-billed Woodpecker, was called the “Lord God Bird.” While the pileated has bounced back from habitat loss and adapted to human encroachment, the ivory-bill is thought to be extinct, though there are still a few believers. I’m one of them.
There’s a lot we can learn from woodpeckers. They’re tough birds. And even though the woodpecker’s brain-cushioning theory has been disproved, everyone needs that sort of shock absorber to help navigate hard times: spending time with the people we love, engaging in the hobbies that bring us joy, indulging in warm pecan pie right out of the oven with a scoop of vanilla ice cream or a dollop of whipped cream. Why not both?
So whether you’re as demure as a downy, as outspoken as a pileated or as rainbow-hued as a flicker, let’s celebrate our connectedness, not what hammers us apart.
And while we’re at it, let’s be kind to each other. Because we’re all birds of a feather.
Sarah Hobart (she/her) is a freelance writer based in Humboldt County.
This article appears in Sculpting Community.