I was sitting at the computer when a woodpecker came to the feeder. Son John $ was in the kitchen, and I softly asked his dad to relay a message for him to come see it. He approached softly and quietly, getting a good look at the bird. I felt for my pockets, but pockets are in jeans, not my dress slacks. $ tiptoed away and returned with the toy camera. Gotcha, bird!
When I looked at the photos, the camera seemed to be dictating what the bird said.
“I don’t know why you humans call me Red-bellied Woodpecker. Surely you could have come up with a better name than that. I do have a tiny bit of red on my front, but I’m not going to show it to you.”
“It’s not easy hanging on this silly feeder. It’s humiliating to appear so hunched over. Couldn’t you find something better for me?”
“Hey! Did you get my profile? This is my best side.”