We’ve been waiting seven years now.  The first call is well before sunrise, the boisterous, rolling, upslurred “Churrr” we recognize as our male Gila Woodpecker’s call, longer and more frequently repeated than the short, clipped version with which his mate replies.  He comes in quickly for the first feeding of the day, over the top of the house, and sticks the landing on the lower lip of the west facing hole in the tallest of three Saguaros in our front yard.

Seven years on this property, seeing Gilas around, drinking at our fountain, feeding on our winter suet, knowing we had the only Saguaros in the neighborhood (the previous owner is rumored to have hauled them in from the desert himself, which is now totally illegal), we had always anticipated that sooner or later the woodpeckers would take up residence.  We were delighted in February when they investigated, ecstatic in March when they renovated one of the eight holes (evidenced by the odd looking black flakes strewn all over our driveway beneath the cactus), crushed in April when we saw a European Starling poking its head out of “their” hole, stunned in May when we heard soft little cries coming from the cavity and saw the Gilas bringing food.

It is the first week of June.  Doing some rudimentary math after guessing when the eggs might have been laid, we figure the young will fledge while we are out of town this weekend.  We have been circumspect about using the driveway and have yet to see a little head peering out, but now I am set up inside the garage with camera focused on the Saguaro.  In the hour after sunrise, here’s what the camera sees:

5:32 am—male delivery with some kind of nut or berry, pinkish red in color
5:46 am---female delivery with something squirmy and alive that looks like a small lizard
5:41 am---male delivery with a bill full of Saguaro fruit jelly
5:57 am---male delivery with something white that looks like popcorn
6:04 am---male delivery with a bill full of Saguaro fruit jelly
6:17 am---male delivery with a bill full of Saguaro fruit jelly
6:25 am---female delivery with a large reddish and cream caterpillar

It seems mom is in charge of the protein and dad brings the carbs, kind of like a human household, but the best observation is at 6:00 am when a young woodpecker, presumably a female because it appears to be almost full grown but has no red crown patch, pokes its head out with that look that says “Alright, where are they, I’m still hungry!”

The most obvious question is why now, after seven years, but a better one is why did they choose the west facing cavity when there is an east facing one, partially shaded and of comparable size?  It must be roasting in the nest in the long afternoon sun exposure.  The possible answers are that they know what they’re doing, or perhaps they are inexperienced parents.  We’re thankful for the opportunity to make some cool desert wildlife observations.

P.S.  Upon our return from our weekend getaway there is no longer any noise emanating from the cavity.  The next morning we observe both parents bringing food to a single young bird, no crown patch, high under the fronds of the palm tree next door.