The bird is at home also in shrubbery, moving easily among the smaller branches, hitching along their slender length, picking at the bark, and leaping from one branch to another with the aid of a flip of the wings. It sits crosswise on a perch scarcely bigger than a twig, leaning forward a little, bill outstretched, suggesting in position and outline a tiny kingfisher. Here, at close range, on a level with our eyes, we realize how rapid the bird’s motions are. The beak strikes and draws back--the two movements a single flash. The head turns to one side, to the other side, bringing first one dark shining eye, then the other, to bear on the bark; we see the head in the two positions, although we get only a hint of the motion between. Thus the day’s work goes on, until the downy, replete with the results of its industry, rests motionless for a while on a high, sunny branch, taking its ease. The downy woodpecker, like most of its family, has an undulating flight when flying any considerable distance. The undulations are not deep, as in the plunging flight of a goldfinch; it gives rather the effect of a ship pitching slightly in a head sea. A few strokes carry the bird up to the crest of the wave--the wings clapping close to the sides of the body--then, at the crest, with the wings shut, the bird tilts slightly forward, and slides down into the next trough. Besides employing its strong beak and the powerful muscles of its neck to secure food and dig out a cavity for its nest, the downy woodpecker makes use of them to beat a loud tattoo on the branch of a tree or some other resonant object. This habit is oftenest noticed in spring, when it appears to form a part of courtship or a prelude to it, but Lewis O. Shelley says in his notes that “on February 3, 1934, a male downy commenced its drumming on a dead elm branch near the house. A few hours earlier the temperature had been 5° below zero. On the 6th, 8th, and 9th he was tattooing at the usual hour, about 8 a. m. On the 8th the temperature registered zero, and on the 9th 18° below zero!” Dr. Charles W. Townsend, in his Ipswich manuscript notes, under date of March 16, 1930, speaks of “a male bird hammering a _rat-at-at-too_ on the apex of a telephone pole for three seconds. He then paused, hunching up a little and looking about for from five to twelve seconds, before resuming the hammering. He made a small round dent in the pole, but there were no chips.” A. Dawes DuBois tells in his notes the following anecdote: “One April day I watched this avian drummer as he entertained himself by beating on the wooden insulator-pins of an unused cross-arm on a telegraph pole. From each pin he rang out a different tone--loud, clear, and high-pitched. It was evident that this pleased him, for he hopped from one pin to another to repeat the variations.”