Recently a friend and I went out for an early-morning bird walk. The trees still looked relatively bare, despite the warm spell, but the green of new grass brought life to the landscape, and the songs and calls of birds promised the full advent of spring right around the corner.

Black-capped chickadees sang their “phee-bee” song, a song often confused with that of the eastern phoebe. While they may sound somewhat alike, there is a huge difference in the quality of the sound: the chickadee’s is a clear, whistled note, sounding very whimsical. The eastern phoebe’s song is loud, brassy, and strident. It lacks the clear tones of the chickadee’s, and is instead very burry sounding, often with a stuttered ending.

Far off into the woods, we heard a loud, nasal call. I knew it had to be a woodpecker but wasn’t sure which one. Red-bellied woodpeckers have been expanding their ranges farther and farther north and, especially in southern Maine, have been seen quite often and are thought to breed in that part of the state. I wondered if that’s what it could be.

It wasn’t long before we saw the maker of the call. Our attention was drawn to a tall white birch tree in the distance. Several very small birds were flitting among its branches. They were too far away to identify, even with binoculars, but soon a larger bird alighted in the tree and gave the call that had puzzled me. It was indeed a woodpecker but not a red-bellied; it was a northern flicker.

Even at that distance, the black bib on its chest was obvious and a dead giveaway. It uttered its nasal, “clear, clear,” call once more before disappearing into a tangle of trees.

My friend was surprised. She knew flickers, but hadn’t immediately recognized the bird because she was accustomed to seeing them on the ground – not perched in a tree.

Therein lies the difference between flickers and all other woodpeckers: their habit of foraging on the ground. Unlike the others, which use powerful bills to chisel their way into the heart of a tree or carve into the outer layers of bark, flickers probe the earth for ants and beetle larvae. In winter, they switch to a diet of fruit and seeds.

As do other woodpeckers, flickers excavate nest holes in trees. At my former residence, I had the pleasure of watching a pair of these birds as they performed their courtship rituals and nested in the tree across the street.

Because they utilize suburban areas close to people, they may often face competition from the invasive European starlings, which are also cavity nesters. According to the “Birds of North America” species account, flickers are in decline, possibly as a result of this conflict. Ornithologists think this will adversely affect other native bird species that often rely on nest cavities excavated, and later abandoned, by flickers.

The policy of removing dead trees and snags, both in human environments and in managed forests, may also be a contributing factor.

bdnsports@bangordailynews.net