Tat-a-tat-tat-tat! Faster than any Morse Code I’d ever heard in an old movie. 

I pulled the pillow over my head and clamped it tight to my ears. I still heard that noise. Like a rapping coming through the walls.

“Jake, what’re you doing?” Dad called. “Cut it out. It’s five o’clock in the morning, for pete’s sake.”

“I’m not doing it.” I tried to stop my bones from shaking.

I’d heard that same noise yesterday morning. When I told Mom about it, she said, “All old houses have creaks and groans. I didn’t hear anything. You probably dreamed it.”

It was no dream. And it was no creak or groan. Mom didn’t hear it and Dad thought I did it. Now I decided my friend Adam was right—about our house being haunted, I mean.

That afternoon I dashed around the corner to Adam’s house. I found him tossing a Frisbee to his German Shepherd. We plopped down on his steps, with Adam twirling the Frisbee in his hands. 

“Tell me about our haunted house,” I said.

“Not scared, are you? I thought you liked living there.”

I wondered if Adam was as brave as he pretended. “Yeah, the house is ok. I like having a fireplace to hang my stocking at Christmas. But now it’s spooky.”

“Could be the ghost flying around. Did you see it? Once when I peeked in the window, I saw Mr. Barry running around inside like crazy. Probably that’s what put him in the nursing home.”

I shook my head. “I only heard it. Want to sleep over tonight and help me catch it?

“No way, man. What did it sound like?”

“Tapping or rattling or something. Can’t even remember now.”

Adam threw the Frisbee to his dog. “Have you checked the cellar? Look for a skeleton chained to the wall.”

I shivered. This was getting weirder and weirder. We’d been in the house only a month, but could there be a place I hadn’t explored yet? A secret room? A hidden room? 

Adam laughed. “That house is pretty old. Maybe it’s getting ready to blow up.” He stood up and threw the Frisbee again. “You still hang your stocking for Santa?”

Did he think I was a baby? 

He laughed again. “That’s ok, Jake. So do I, but don’t tell anybody. Want to play Frisbee?”

I had more important things to do than Frisbee. I needed to stop that noise before we ended up in the nursing home with Mr. Barry. I rushed home to begin my search. 

The house smelled like freshly baked cookies. I stopped long enough to grab a warm cookie off the plate. “Thanks, Mom.”

Mom looked up from spooning dough across a baking sheet. “Got homework, Jake?”

I had homework, but not the kind she had in mind. I spent the rest of the afternoon tapping walls, searching closets, but no luck in finding any hidden rooms.

The next morning just before five o’clock, I tumbled out of bed, grabbed a flashlight, and crept down the cellar stairs. Even though I’d turned on the light, dark shadows lurked in the corners. I flashed my light around. Goosebumps covered my arms. No skeletons chained to the wall as far as I could see. I hadn’t had time to check for hidden rooms down here.

Adam had suggested something was getting ready to blow up. If so, I needed to warn my parents. I stared at my bare feet as I waited.

Tat-a-tat-tat-tat. That noise again, but not as loud. The furnace didn’t shake, nor did the water heater, so I didn’t expect they’d explode. That tapping didn’t come from the cellar. What could it be? And like yesterday, it stopped. I went back to bed to try to figure it out.

“Mom, why did Mr. Barry have to move?” I asked later that morning. 

“He’s old and doesn’t have anyone to take care of him. The doctor thought it would be better for him to be in a nursing home where he gets good care.”

“He’s not insane or anything?”

Mom scowled. “Why do you say that?”

I shrugged my shoulders. “Dunno. Could we go visit him, I mean we could take him some cookies.”

“Why, Jake, that’s a good idea. Thank you for suggesting it.”

Saturday afternoon Mom and I drove to Birchwood Nursing Home. I really wanted to go alone, but I guess they wouldn’t let kids in without an adult. Mr. Barry wore glasses and walked with a cane, but otherwise he looked pretty normal for having lived in our haunted house.”

Mom let me do the talking. “Hi, Mr. Barry, I’m Jake and we live in your house. We brought you some cookies.” 

Mr. Barry peeked inside the bag that I handed him. “Chocolate chips! My favorite!” He stretched out his right arm to shake hands with me. We sat down on the couch and he took the chair facing us.

Now what should I do? I couldn’t just come out and ask if his house was haunted when he lived there. 

“Have you seen any birds inside my house?” he asked me.

“Birds? No.”

Mr. Barry’s laugh sounded like it came from his belly. “Those sneaky creatures found a way to drop down the chimney into the fireplace. I had quite a chase to get them out of the house.”

Adam’s flying ghosts, I thought.

“I put a stop to that, though. I made a tin roof to put over the chimney.” He put his hands together to indicate a sloping roof with his hands.

Mr. Barry told stories about his family, but not once did he mention a strange noise or ghost. Soon Mom decided it was time to leave. He thanked us for the cookies, shook our hands, and asked us to come again. I was no closer in learning about our haunted house.

My wakeup call the next morning was that same rapping noise. My brain had been working overnight and now I thought I knew the answer. I grabbed my robe and ran downstairs. Tat-a-tat-tat-tat coming from the fireplace. I ran outside to check Mr. Barry’s little tin roof. There sat a woodpecker, pecking away at the tin.

“You naughty bird,” I told it. “Wait till I tell Adam about our ghost.”

*Note: When the pileated woodpecker sees his own reflection, he thinks it’s another bird. He is territorial. That means he claims a territory as his own. He uses his strong bill to peck at the reflection to get rid of the enemy. He has been known to break windows and especially automobile side-view mirrors.