Nothing But Love :: golf blogger

Peckers

I have a new-found respect for woodpeckers. I let one peck a hole in the light pole out by the pool a couple years ago. Quaint. A unique design element, as they'd say on the home improvement shows.

During the late summer and fall, the woodpeckers tried to establish some kind of colony on the back of the house. I'd hear the rat-a-tat-tat-ing of a woodpecker. I'd open an upstairs window. The stupid bird is grabbed onto the side of the house, beak ramming repeatedly into the cedar siding. I'd yell. It would fly away. This scenario played itself out nearly every day, two or three times a day. The woodpecker was always in the same place; so, it wasn't difficult to locate the little beast when I'd hear the woodpecker start banging away.

I won. There was no hole.

This morning, I was over on the west side of the house. I spied a hole in the house. Woodpecker nest. There they were this past summer, two woodpeckers rat-a-tat-tat-ing in synchrony. It was a plan. They had signals. They're in their nest, rolling on the floor laughing their asses off. Stupid bald guy.