As a kid, I remember watching Woody the Woodpecker every Saturday morning. We would try to mock his unforgettable laugh and see who could do it better.
The irony of why he had such an annoying laugh is no longer lost on my youth. I have some pileated woodpeckers outside my house that think they are roosters. “It’s 5 AM, time to get up sleepy head!” They must know I’m hard of hearing, because they don’t just tap on the trees. They bang on the side of the house or the pieces of metal protruding from the roof.
I have one that thinks he is a real bad ass. His drumming is so fast and lasts so long, it sounds much more like a semi automatic weapon than a woodpecker foraging for food. I call him Mr. Jackson; only his mother can call him Sammy.
To my surprise, I met one this morning that was actually really cool. He was smaller and cuter, maybe a hairy woodpecker. What I loved most was that he beat to the sound of his own drum. There was no consistent beat or repeating rhythm. DJ Wood just moved to the flow of his own song, switching up tempos and crescendos; even going with a reggae feel at times in the off beat. I found myself bobbing my head and dancing around to his song. So into the sound, I even spit out a little beat box with the flow. Yah, I could get used to this little beatnik; do your thing Birdy.
“Honey, why did you have to shoot that bird? I liked him!
“I like him now too.”