IHAVE A SECRET to share. I was not always an only child. Once upon a time, I had a Baby Brother. I’m pretty sure I hated him.
I’m not talking about an imaginary friend. I’ve had those. They are way, way better.
No, Baby Brother was a bird. Read that again: a bird. He was a red-bellied woodpecker who was raised by his mother in our Tennessee backyard, when I was about 7 years old. He was a shameless flirt, and my mother adored him. She adored him so much, she named him Baby Brother.
She built a special woodpecker feeder, and stocked it with homemade food from her own recipe. When the little darling chased away his mother and sister, the better to keep all the food my mother served, he wasn’t satisfied. He still had competition, and he knew it.
Every afternoon, Baby Brother waited in the woods, watching for my school bus to stop at the bottom of our hill. From the bus stop, I had a 10-minute walk up a steep, windy road to get to our front door. All I wanted when I walked into my kitchen was my very own after-school snack. Every afternoon, Baby Brother flew to the back feeder just as I turned the knob of the door, and started calling out for more food. I’m quite sure, from the snippy tone of my writing, you’ve already figured out who got fed first.
This year, my mother moved in with me. I’d been planning to build one of her special woodpecker feeders with my son, but hadn’t gotten around to it yet, so I suggested that they do it together. We heard woodpeckers every morning last spring, and spot them constantly–their urgent, swooping flight patterns always give them away. I was pretty sure we’d have some takers for my mom’s special blend.
Sure enough, within a week, a young red-bellied woodpecker, a male, made an appearance. I called to my mom to come downstairs to see him. “He looks just like Baby Brother,” I said to her. “He must be his seventh cousin.”
She turned to me, genuinely surprised. “I can’t believe you remember him.” She laughed. “You know, he used to try to beat you home every day after school so I’d feed him first.”
Oddly enough, I remember.
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What a great story, I bet your son will enjoy his Baby Brother
Adorable post, Paige. I’m glad you haven’t harbored any resentment toward woodpeckers because of Baby Brother. I think my wounded self-nature would have led me to ban woodpecker feeders from my life for at least a few decades. :)
Oh, Paige. The spectrum of emotion here is fabulous. I just adore this piece. It’s a real love story, as in the way we really love one another. Wonderful, sister.