look twice to tell him from his sturdy brother.
He certainly ate enough to make him grow. The birds liked best to be
fed with a spoon; probably it seemed more like a bill. After a little,
they learned to peck at their food, a sign I hailed eagerly as
indicative of future self-support; for with appetites of day laborers
and no one to supply their wants, they would have suffered sorely, poor
little orphans! Sometimes, when they had satisfied their first hunger,
they would shake the bread from their bills as if they didn't like it
and wanted food they were used to.

[Illustration: JACOB AND BAIRDI VISITING THE OLD NEST TREE]

When one got hungry he would call out, and then his brother would begin
to shout. The little tots gave a crooning gentle note when caressed, and
a soft cry when they snuggled down in our hands or cuddled up to us as
they had done under their mother's wing. Their call for food was a
sibilant chirr, and they gave it much oftener than any of the grown-up
woodpecker notes. But they also said _chuck'-ah_ and rattled like the
old birds.

I was glad there were two of them so they would not be so lonely. If
separated they showed their interest in each other. If Bairdi called,
Jacob would keep still and listen attentively, raising his topknot till
every microscopic red feather stood up like a bristle, when he would
answer Bairdi in a loud manly voice.

It was amusing to see the small birds try to plume themselves. Sometimes
they would take a sudden start to make their toilettes, and both work
away vigorously upon their plumes. It was comical to see them try to
find their oil glands. Had the old birds taught them how to oil their
feathers while they were still in the nest? They were thickly feathered,
but when they reached back to their tails the pink skin showed between
their spines and shoulders, giving a good idea of the way birds'
feathers grow only in tracts.

When the little princes were about a month old, I arranged with a
neighboring photographer to have them sit for their picture. He drove
over to the sycamore, and the lad who had rescued the prisoners took
them down to keep their appointment. One of them tried to tuck its head
up the boy's sleeve, being attracted by dark holes. While we were
waiting for the photographer, the boy put Jacob in a hollow of the tree,
where he began pecking as if he liked it. He worked away till he
squeezed himself into a small pocket, and then, with his feathers
ru