“I'm fixing up this old house of mine,” replied Yellow Wing promptly. “It wasn't quite deep enough to suit me, so I am making it a little deeper. Mrs. Yellow Wing and I haven't been able to find another house to suit us, so we have decided to live here again this year.” He came wholly out and flew down on the ground near Peter. When his wings were spread, Peter saw that on the under sides they were a beautiful golden-yellow, as were the under sides of his tail feathers. Around his throat was a broad, black collar. From this, clear to his tail, were black dots. When his wings were spread, the upper part of his body just above the tail was pure white. “My,” exclaimed Peter, “you are a handsome fellow! I never realized before how handsome you are.” Yellow Wing looked pleased. Perhaps he felt a little flattered. “I am glad you think so, Peter,” said he. “I am rather proud of my suit, myself. I don't know of any member of my family with whom I would change coats.” A sudden thought struck Peter. “What family do you belong to?” He asked abruptly. “The Woodpecker family,” replied Yellow Wing proudly. CHAPTER XI. Drummers and Carpenters. Peter Rabbit was so full of questions that he hardly knew which one to ask first. But Yellow Wing the Flicker didn't give him a chance to ask any. From the edge of the Green forest there came a clear, loud call of, “Pe-ok! Pe-ok! Pe-ok!” “Excuse me, Peter, there's Mrs. Yellow Wing calling me,” exclaimed Yellow Wing, and away he went. Peter noticed that as he flew he went up and down. It seemed very much as if he bounded through the air just as Peter bounds over the ground. “I would know him by the way he flies just as far as I could see him,” thought Peter, as he started for home in the dear Old Briar-patch. “Somehow he doesn't seem like a Woodpecker because he is on the ground so much. I must ask Jenny Wren about him.” It was two or three days before Peter had a chance for a bit of gossip with Jenny Wren. When he did the first thing he asked was if Yellow Wing is a true Woodpecker. “Certainly he is,” replied Jenny Wren. “Of course he is. Why under the sun should you think he isn't?” “Because it seems to me he is on the ground more than he's in the trees,” retorted Peter. “I don't know any other Woodpeckers who come down on the ground at all.” “Tut, tut, tut, tut!” scolded Jenny. “Think a minute, Peter! Think a minute! Haven't you ever seen Redhead on the ground?” Peter blinked his eyes. “Ye-e-s,” he said slowly. “Come to think of it, I have. I've seen him picking up beechnuts in the fall. The Woodpeckers are a funny family. I don't understand them.” Just then a long, rolling rat-a-tat-tat rang out just over their heads. “There's another one of them,” chuckled Jenny. “That's Downy, the smallest of the whole family. He certainly makes an awful racket for such a little fellow. He is a splendid drummer and he's just as good a carpenter. He made the very house I am occupying now.”