Last week, on a cold day before the weather turned into a tropical monsoon, I came across the above scene. Two Northern Flickers were lying pressed against a large branch of a birch, almost motionless. They seemed to be trying to absorb whatever heat radiated from the weak, southern sun.
Two or three at a time, American Robins landed near the flickers and stared at them. Then, satisfied, or bored, or frustrated, they flew away to be replaced by others from a sizable flock that was foraging in a nearby holly hedge.
No flickers were induced to fall off the branch. Robins are handsome, but not that handsome.