In summer, I was often awakened by a shot of a woodpecker. I got up, went to the window and listened, from where the intermittent fraction came. It was not so easy to see a woodpecker. Our house has many different trees. There are poplars and maples here, and right next to the window of my room is the old birch. It is quite tall, with a thick trunk, the Woodpecker could be on a birch tree, but could – and on a nearby tree. Woodpeckers in our lands are not a curiosity. Especially a lot of large variegated woodpeckers. They have a strong beak, a hard tail, a redish breast. When you walk in the park or near the house and hear a familiar fraction, you stop involuntarily, raise your head and look at the tree. Where is the woodpecker there? Finally you see the woodpecker. You try to get closer to the tree to get a better look at the bird. Perhaps a woodpecker is watching a man, because he stops for a while, stops his usual work, and then, as if teasing, zigzag, very dexterously moves
along the trunk and branches and is instantly lost sight of. And then suddenly the fraction is heard from the next tree. And when he managed to fly there? Or maybe it’s another woodpecker? It is difficult to examine the woodpecker from the ground. But here is the woodpecker that woke me up in the morning, I never saw and failed.
But one day not a fraction of a woodpecker, and the terrible cracking of a breaking tree woke me up. It rained all night, and the trees crashed under the pressure of a strong wind. Approaching the window, I saw that as if some cruel giant had turned a familiar birch from the earth. I went out to examine the lying tree, and found in its trunk a large hollow, and in it – a nest. The nest was empty. Meta was amazed that the hollow was as if polished from the inside. Maybe it was the nest of that woodpecker that woke me up in the morning? I gently took the nest out of the hollow to carry it to the next tree. He took a ladder from the house and climbed a tree, which, it seemed to me, would be fancied by future feathered birch inhabitants. Between thick branches laid a nest.
Since then, the woodpecker has stopped waking me up, but I do not lose hope. One morning I’ll hear a familiar fraction in my room, I’ll run out into the street and say: “Hello, I’ve been waiting for you, woodpecker.”