A pileated close to home

The storm dropped more than a foot of snow... but not in our neck of the woods. Here, in southeastern CT, we had about four inches of powder, most of which was washed away by temperatures that went above freezing and, of course, by subsequent heavy rain. It was still drizzling by the time I got up and when I poked my head outside to assess the situation—would I have to shovel, or not?—I heard a familiar slow rapping on a nearby dead limb. I knew it had to have come from a Pileated Woodpecker looking for grubs and carpenter ants, and in the hope that it might reveal itself within camera range, I grabbed the dSLR and, as noiselessly as possible, headed to the kitchen porch. Now, I was barefoot, in my nightshirt and bathrobe, and soon standing in cold slush, but, there was that magnificent bird in plain sight. If this heedless obsession turned into a fatal pneumonia, well, I got my shot, didn't I? I got one wonderful shot.