FAUNA – Pileated Fever

By Mary Parker Sonis
Now is the time for sighting pileated woodpeckers in the Bolin Creek Forest. The branches are bare of leaves and the largest woodpecker in North America can be seen daily, excavating new roost cavities and chiseling into stumps and trees searching for the carpenter ants and other insects that are the mainstay of the pileated’s diet. This spectacular bird is a full 15 inches in length, with stark black-and-white coloration and a crest of flame red on its head. The males sport an additional red moustache that runs along the bill. If you haven’t seen one of these birds crossing the Bolin Creek trails, you have certainly heard their wild laughing cries in the canopy.

Two years ago, I had the pleasure of observing a pileated pair raise their young in a large sycamore tree by the edge of the creek. It was a perfect nest tree: a mature live tree with a section of dead tree at the very top. Damage caused by fungus made the excavation of a 9-inch cavity far easier. The entrance hole was the classic oblong shape created by a pileated. Now, the pileated has many roosting holes in the forest, so it isn’t always easy to recognize the true nest site. Noticing that this particular cavity was receiving attention from both the male and the female was the giveaway clue. Pileateds sleep in separate quarters each night.
What makes the pileateds interesting is the constancy of the couple throughout the year. They are life partners that work together even when they are not in breeding season. In the winter, one pileated might find a good cache of food in a stump, and while one feeds the other stands guard. If a predator approaches, the guard bird will cry out the alarm. The male pileated guards the territory against unwelcome intruder males. He will stand at the very top of a tall hollow snag, preen his feathers and drum loudly at the intruder. This sound is so resonant that I’ve actually mistaken it for house construction in the vicinity.
In nesting season, the female does the greater share of brooding the eggs, but once the chicks are born both parents attend equally to the young. The male and female alternate feedings every 45 minutes to one hour, and this schedule goes from sunrise to sunset. At one point during this process, I saw the male approach the nest but remain on a branch away from the young. He called loudly and feigned an injury, dropping his wing to the side. Out of nowhere, a cooper’s hawk appeared and headed for the male, who shot off into the woods, drawing the hawk away from the nest with his wild calls. Having those multiple roost cavities could prove to be very advantageous.
During the course of raising their young, one of the nestlings died. I knew something was wrong by the call of the female – she was frantic. When the male arrived at the nest, the female moved to a nearby perch and the male had the job of removing the dead nestling from the tree. I don’t think it was my imagination that the calls of the woodpeckers had a keening quality that day.
After eluding hawks and losing one of their young, a single nestling emerged ready for flight on a sunny May afternoon. Both parents perched a short distance from the nest. They called gently, trying to cajole their youngster into taking her first flight into the forest. The fledgling made her flight, then continued to receive attention from her parents into the fall. It was a successful year for the pileated family. In April, it will all begin again.