“Mom, see that woodpecker?” said my nine-year-old son this morning, pointing to one of our birch trees.

At first glance, I did not see it. I looked at the other stand of birches. As I have done so often to him, my son turned my head gently toward the first tree and pointed again. Admittedly, it took a few more minutes of his excited encouragement before I spotted the Downy Woodpecker. His black and white speckled body melded with the paper birch bark. I glanced away once and thought he had flown away until I saw he had moved up the tree. The soft birch bark muffled the pecking, unlike days earlier when I heard him before I saw him on an oak. It reminded me of a picture-find puzzle. But, even if my camera were at the ready, I doubt a still picture would reveal the hidden bird. Only his bobbing head gave him away and even that could have been mistaken as a loose piece of bark. For several minutes, we spied on him as he ate his breakfast.

“Why didn’t you see it right away, Mom, but I did?” asked my son.

“I’m not sure,” I said, “but I’m glad you were looking!”

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