Still No Woodlets

One of my bird books says that it takes 18-30 days for golden-fronted woodpeckers to fledge. It was two weeks ago yesterday that I first heard the woodlets in their tree, so that's sixteen days, at least, and possibly more; maybe they were silent for a few days after birth (she said hopefully). Had I anything with which to record sound, I would log the staticky fuzz that is the woodlets' hungry cry, as well as the sound of Fritz, aka Mr. Loud. It is torture for him to be inside. It is also torture for us to listen to his unending diatribe of meows of varying tones, lengths, and decibel levels. Unlike his brother Hamilton, Fritz is not blessed with a musical, birdlike voice. He has the voice akin to the rusty-gate voice of fairy tale fame (that which is always visited upon the wicked stepsister who is unkind to the heads in the well* or whatever). Suffice it to say that we are counting down the days.

That makes it sound as though it's all about us, though, and it's not. First and foremost are the Woodses—we adore them, and they nest in that tree every year (not the same couple, but we like to think each time that it's one of last year's juniors coming back with its mate), and we love the fact of bird-nesting and can't wait to see the babies. Secondly, it's about the parents' unceasing feeding and caretaking—isn't it just exhausting for them to spend their entire days in nonstop hunting of food for their offspring? Do they not deserve a vacation and a meal for themselves?

While Fritz is loud, Hamilton grows fat from confinement (really more from snacking all day on dog food rather than lack of exercise). Hugh kindly took him out for a supervised walk the other evening, which caused no little friction because of course he made a beeline for the Woodie tree. "No," said Hugh, "that is simply the way down the hill," and though we disagree on Ham's intended destination, we do agree that once he gets within earshot of the tree, of course he wants to feast on baby birds. Words were exchanged and cat scooped up and cat walked UP the hill, instead of down, and no more was said about it; but also, proximity to the tree was not allowed again.

*See http://www.authorama.com/english-fairy-tales-46.html, though this is not the version that I know and love; in mine, the heads say: "Wash me and comb me and lay me down gently, that I may be comely for passers to see." In this online version, the heads wish the stepsister the voice of corn-crakes. I don't think corn-crakes can hold a candle to Fritz.