We have in England six species of Woodpeckers, namely, the Black, the Green, the Greater Spotted, the Lesser Spotted, the Hairy, and the Three-toed, but only the one above-named is at all common. It is a handsome bird, with green and brown plumage, prettily marked and barred with white; the bill is large and black, which colour extends over the sides of the head and part of the throat; there is a light-coloured rim round the eye, and a crest like a crimson cap, also a few feathers of the same rich colour set in the black patches of the throat. A truly handsome bird, rather awkward in appearance, on account of the shortness of the tail, and the large size of the feet, head, and bill. A shy, unsocial bird, too; not fond of exhibiting its beauties; for ever tap-tapping the hollow beech, or other tree, in the depth of the solitary woods; often heard but seldom seen, and when it is, in all sorts of inelegant positions, creeping up or down the rugged bole, clinging to the broken bough, crouching close, and peeping and peering into every hole and crevice, in search of its favourite food--insects and their eggs, spiders, and grubs and caterpillars; and boring into the decayed bark with its hard wedge-shaped bill. The old poet Chaucer describes a very busy, inquisitive person as being "As prate and prying as a Woodpecker, And ever inquiring upon everything." And Gisborne gives us a true picture of this restless and curious bird:-- "With shrill and oft-repeated cry, Her angular course, alternate rise and fall, The Woodpecker prolongs; then to the trunk Close clinging, with unwearied beak assails The hollow bark; through every call the strokes Roll the dire echoes, that from wintry sleep Awake her insect prey; the alarmed tribes Start from each chink that bores the mouldering stem; Their scattered flight with lengthened tongue the foe Pursues; joy glistens in her verdant plumes, And brighter scarlet sparkles in her crest." We have here perhaps a little bit of what is called poetic licence; true, it has been said that the Woodpecker taps on the tree to alarm the insects lurking within, and make them come out to see what is the matter, but it is most likely done to ascertain which are the parts most unsound and pervious to the bill. In the above lines is an allusion to the shrill cry of the bird; this, heard amid the stillness of the wood, is perfectly startling; like a peal of unearthly laughter, it bursts forth and rings around; it has been compared to the syllables _glu_, _glu_, _glu_, _gluck!_ finishing off with a sharp _gk_, as though a laugh had tumbled down and broken its neck, turning into something like a cry before it expired. Only just as you are thinking it is really dead and done for, out it bursts again louder than ever, and you listen aghast to "The ringing of the Whitwall's shrilly laughter, Which echo follows after,"