The Acorn Woodpecker: Voice of the Oak Woodlands

I have a neighbor, Woody, who is really wacky. He whacks on wood, a lot. He doesn’t construct anything; he just makes holes. Woody is also a collector of sorts. Some people collect stamps, others prefer figurines, rare coins, whatever. Woody collects acorns. He stores the acorns in holes he whacks into the utility poles along the streets of my rural oak woodland community. Since acorns come in different sizes, Woody has to custom fit each acorn into a hole. He’s an artisan, and a meticulous one at that.

From the avian point of view, it is a good example of specialization. By fitting each acorn tightly into an appropriately sized hole, Woody can be assured that critters and other bird species won’t easily pull the acorns out and make off with the family jewels. Come winter, when flying insects are far less abundant, he and his clan are assured necessary food resources.

But the work doesn’t stop there. An acorn harvested in the fall and shoved into a tightly fitting hole will eventually shrink. So Woody and his clan have to repeatedly remove loose fitting acorns and place them in different holes. If that hole doesn’t exist, then the whacking begins anew. The utility company does not appreciate Woody’s assiduous behavior.

On my morning walks, I often sit down on the curb and watch the comings and goings of Woody and his clan members. The whole procedure is truly fascinating. Never have I seen them drop a single acorn. An upper and lower mandible paired with a dexterous tongue make pretty effective tools for handling acorns, provided, of course, that you are a woodpecker.

Whack, whack; whack, whack, whack…

He’s at it again. Woody and his clan punch holes in the siding of houses, too, looking for places to cache their annual harvest of thousands of acorns. If your rooftop vent pipes are not covered with wire mesh, Woody won’t hesitate to fill them with acorns; that was the case with our house when we purchased it. Woody even filled the mast of a sailboat owned by friend of mine; it was a real chore getting those acorns out. At least he didn’t damage the outer surface of the mast.

Whack, whack…

As you can imagine, the sound of Woody whacking on wood is a worrisome sound for many people who live in the oak woodlands of California. But not for me. I love that sound. Invariably, it will be followed by a vocalization immortalized many years ago by Walter Lantz.

Lantz may not be a familiar name these days, but surely you know Woody Woodpecker, that cavorting cartoon character with a clamorous call? Animator Lantz based his lovable bird on the Acorn Woodpecker which he encountered while honeymooning in California. Never-mind that Woody, the cartoon character as drawn by Lantz, resembles a Pileated Woodpecker. His endearing voice is unmistakably that of an Acorn Woodpecker. My hearing is scrambled, so you may disagree with my mnemonic rendition of the sound. However we may hear it, the sound is sure to make a person smile and forget their troubles, at least for a moment. It goes something like this:

Heh-heh-heh-HEHHHH-heh Heh-heh-heh-HEHHHH-heh Heh-heh-heh-HEHHHH-heh

The most gregarious of my avian neighbors, Woody also performs aerial acrobatics with clan members as they fly openly from tree to tree to utility pole to another tree. Every maneuver is accompanied by, to my hearing, riotous laughter. I discovered the purpose of many of these sorties when I captured a photo. There, right in front of Woody’s open bill, is a flying insect, the favorite diet of the Acorn Woodpecker when available.

What entertainment! As you can imagine, my morning peregrinations are sometimes slow rambles instead of the power walks I might have intended. If I don’t pause a bit, I know I will miss out on a wonderful performance. Woody is, for me, the voice of the oak woodlands where I live. Covid worries, stock market crash, who cares? Woody’s raucous laughter always brightens my day. Look at that clown face and tell me you don’t crack a smile.

Do birds show affection towards their mates? I have to believe so, they are intelligent, sentient beings. An Acorn Woodpecker moment I will always cherish occurred one summer evening as I was seated outside on the patio, watching the day’s glow fade behind the hills to the west. A pair of woodpeckers perched openly on a thick branch of an ancient blue oak tree, murmuring softly to each other, quietly, sweetly, as darkness overtook the light.

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