Nature's alarm clock

I live in the country because I like to be gently awakened in the mornings by the dim light, followed by the sight of the yellow sunshine grazing the high spots on the hills, and the sounds of birds chirping outside my windows.

I abhor alarm clocks, and prefer not to be jolted out of sleep. I am jumpy enough without starting off the day that way. In fact, I am apt to be late for work in the winter when the sun doesn’t rise early enough to keep me on schedule.

Lately though, my peaceful mornings have been disrupted by the arrival of a crazy feathered enemy who seems to have taken up residence somewhere near the eaves of my house.

Before you get alarmed and call PETA to report that I hate birds, let me disclose that robins nest every spring in the white fir next to the front deck and it is enjoyable to watch them hatching two or three birdlets, even though they make a mess on the railing. We feed a mega-flock of hummingbirds that flit back and forth among the spruces and quakies. We tolerate a yellow bird that thinks his reflection in the window is trying to cut in on his territory. Actually we should put that one out of his misery because he attacks his own image over and over again.

But the pellet gun is sitting right by the bedside, and Mr. B., after he is shocked awake, hits the ground running on tiptoe while pumping the air rifle. It is quite the sight so see him crouching behind the front door in his underwear, the barrel waggling out of the opening as he tries to take aim on the critter who scatters every time he hears the click of the pump.

Our squatter is a wily woodpecker.

Okay, there is not a shortage of wood at my house. The roof is shingled with cedar shakes, the decks are redwood, there is some kind of wood siding, and there are trees of all kinds way too close by to please the fire department, but does the woodpecker choose to drill any of those wooden materials where there might actually be bugs hiding?

No, he disdains the name that bird lovers gave him and he hammers each morning on the aluminum downspout!

With its hollow round shape, the downspout is rather like the C-sharp-below-middle-C pipe of the Tabernacle organ. The pounding sound resonates up and down the pipe as it amplifies, echoes and pours right into the bedroom window which has to be open to catch the cool night breezes.

I read that woodpeckers hammer for two reasons. One is to find, secure and eat any bugs that it locates in the materials it pecks. The other is to communicate. He signals the possession of his territory to would-be rivals. Well, if that is what he is doing (I assume it is since there aren’t many bugs in the downspout) and just in case he didn’t notice, I was here first. There wasn’t a woodpecker to be heard when I moved here.

Mr. B.’s shoot-at-him concept of relocation is ineffectual since this bird is faster than a speeding bullet. If any of you bird-whisperers know how to get rid of an impudent woodpecker who is not playing by the rules, I would like to hear from you.

I also read that you can adopt a woodpecker at the Wildlife Action Center (“Take action to help wildlife.”) If you want to take action, my bird comes free and without paperwork.

In the event that there are no takers, my other idea is to apply Bertha logic which suggests that I go down to Basin Rental and borrow a jackhammer which I set up under the rain gutter and use to send the more aggressive territorial signal. Do I have to do that every morning, or is once enough?

I guess if I think about it, “Hammerhead” is winning this argument. Every morning when he signals “Hey you, this is my district, you can leave now,” I get right up, and soon I get in the car and leave.