Excavating Trouble Makers Poem by Mark Heathcote

Dusk and annoying woodpeckers take a rest
from rat-a-tat-tat that hole in a tree, nest
they'll drum from January until June
in pairs some 200 times a day, their beaks harpoon
in a pine tree; excavating a chamber
for fun - till their nonstop-noise-becomes fainter.

High summer now the drilling falls to a hush,
except for the road works, a ground-hopping thrush
peace will now mostly transcend on-the-wood
as everyone now goes about their livelihood.
A brood woodpecker fills their large hungry-guts
while schoolchildren practise their desktop woodcuts.