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diff --git a/old/bbbfc10.txt b/old/bbbfc10.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d567366 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/bbbfc10.txt @@ -0,0 +1,8778 @@ +The Project Gutenberg Etext of The Burgess Bird Book for Children +#5 in our series by Thornton W. Burgess + +Copyright laws are changing all over the world, be sure to check +the laws for your country before redistributing these files!!! + +Please take a look at the important information in this header. +We encourage you to keep this file on your own disk, keeping an +electronic path open for the next readers. + +Please do not remove this. + +This should be the first thing seen when anyone opens the book. +Do not change or edit it without written permission. 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FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN ETEXTS*Ver.12.12.00*END* + + + + + +This etext was produced by Eve Sobol. + + + + + +THE BURGESS BIRD BOOK FOR CHILDREN + +Thornton W. Burgess + + + + + TO THE CHILDREN AND THE BIRDS + OF AMERICA THAT THE BONDS OF LOVE AND + FRIENDSHIP BETWEEN THEM MAY BE + STRENGTHENED + THIS BOOK IS DEDICATED + + +PREFACE + +This book was written to supply a definite need. Its preparation +was undertaken at the urgent request of booksellers and others +who have felt the lack of a satisfactory medium of introduction +to bird life for little children. As such, and in no sense +whatever as a competitor with the many excellent books on this +subject, but rather to supplement these, this volume has been +written. + +Its primary purpose is to interest the little child in, and to +make him acquainted with, those feathered friends he is most +likely to see. Because there is no method of approach to the +child mind equal to the story, this method of conveying +information has been adopted. So far as I am aware the book is +unique in this respect. In its preparation an earnest effort has +been made to present as far as possible the important facts +regarding the appearance, habits and characteristics of our +feathered neighbors. It is intended to be at once a story book +and an authoritative handbook. While it is intended for little +children, it is hoped that children of larger growth may find in +it much of both interest and helpfulness. + +Mr. Louis Agassiz Fuertes, artist and naturalist, has marvelously +supplemented such value as may be in the text by his wonderful +drawings in full color. They were made especially for this volume +and are so accurate, so true to life, that study of them will +enable any one to identify the species shown. I am greatly +indebted to Mr. Fuertes for his cooperation in the endeavor to +make this book of real assistance to the beginner in the study of +our native birds. + +It is offered to the reader without apologies of any sort. It was +written as a labor of love--love for little children and love for +the birds. If as a result of it even a few children are led to a +keener interest in and better understanding of our feathered +friends, its purpose will have been accomplished. + + THORNTON W. BURGESS + + +CONTENTS + + +CHAPTER I JENNY WREN ARRIVES + Introducing the House Wren. + + II THE OLD ORCHARD BULLY + The English or House Sparrow. + + III JENNY HAS A GOOD WORD FOR SOME SPARROWS + The Song, White-throated and Fox Sparrows. + + IV CHIPPY, SWEETVOICE AND DOTTY + The Chipping, Vesper and Tree Sparrows. + + V PETER LEARNS SOMETHING HE HADN'T GUESSED + The Bluebird and the Robin. + + VI AN OLD FRIEND IN A NEW HOME + The Phoebe and the Least Flycatcher. + + VII THE WATCHMAN OF THE OLD ORCHARD + The Kingbird and the Great Crested Flycatcher. + + VIII OLD CLOTHES AND OLD HOUSES + The Wood Peewee and Some Nesting Places. + + IX LONGBILL AND TEETER + The Woodcock and the Spotted Sandpiper. + + X REDWING AND YELLOW WING + The Red-winged Blackbird and the Golden-winged Flicker. + + XI DRUMMERS AND CARPENTERS + The Downy, Hairy and Red-headed Woodpeckers. + + XII SOME UNLIKE RELATIVES + The Cowbird and the Baltimore Oriole. + + XIII MORE OF THE BLACKBIRD FAMILY + The Orchard Oriole and the Bobolink. + + XIV BOB WHITE AND CAROL THE MEADOW LARK + The So-called Quail and the Meadow Lark. + + XV A SWALLOW AND ONE WHO ISN'T + The Tree Swallow and the Chimney Swift. + + XVI A ROBBER IN THE OLD ORCHARD + The Purple Martin and the Barn Swallow. + + XVII MORE ROBBERS + The Crow and the Blue Jay. + + XVIII SOME HOMES IN THE GREEN FOREST + The Crow, the Oven Bird and the Red-tailed Hawk. + + XIX A MAKER OF THUNDER AND A FRIEND IN BLACK + The Ruffed Grouse and the Crow Blackbird. + + XX A FISHERMAN ROBBED + The Osprey and the Bald-headed Eagle. + + XXI A FISHING PARTY + The Great Blue Heron and the Kingfisher. + + XXII SOME FEATHERED DIGGERS + The Bank Swallow, the Kingfisher and the Sparrow Hawk. + + XXIII SOME BIG MOUTHS + The Nighthawk, the Whip-poor-will and Chuck-wills- + widow. + + XXIV THE WARBLERS ARRIVE + The Redstart and the Yellow Warbler. + + XXV THREE COUSINS QUITE UNLIKE + The Black and White Warbler, the Maryland Yellow-Throat + and the Yellow-breasted Chat. + + XXVI PETER GETS A LAME NECK + The Parula, Myrtle and Magnolia Warblers. + + XXVII A NEW FRIEND AND AN OLD ONE + The Cardinal and the Catbird. + + XXVIII PETER SEES ROSEBREAST AND FINDS REDCOAT + The Rose-breasted Grosbeak and the Scarlet Tanager. + + XXIX THE CONSTANT SINGERS + The Red-eyed, Warbling and Yellow-throated Vireos. + + XXX JENNY WREN'S COUSINS + The Brown Thrasher and the Mockingbird. + + XXXI VOICE OF THE DUSK + The Wood, Hermit and Wilson's Thrushes. + + XXXII PETER SAVES A FRIEND AND LEARNS SOMETHING + The Towhee and the Indigo Bunting. + + XXXIII A ROYAL DRESSER AND A LATE NESTER + The Purple Linnet and the Goldfinch. + + XXXIV MOURNER THE DOVE AND CUCKOO + The Mourning Dove and the Yellow-billed Cuckoo. + + XXXV A BUTCHER AND A HUMMER + The Shrike and the Ruby-throated Hummingbird. + + XXXVI A STRANGER AND A DANDY + The English Starling and the Cedar Waxwing. + + XXXVII FAREWELLS AND WELCOMES + The Chickadee. + + XXXVIII HONKER AND DIPPY ARRIVE + The Canada Goose and the Loon. + + XXXIX PETER DISCOVERS TWO OLD FRIENDS + The White-breasted Nuthatch and the Brown Creeper. + + XL SOME MERRY SEED-EATERS + The Tree Sparrow and the Junco. + + XLI MORE FRIENDS COME WITH THE SNOW + The Snow Bunting and the Horned Lark. + + XLII PETER LEARNS SOMETHING ABOUT SPOOKY + The Screech Owl. + + XLIII QUEER FEET AND A QUEERER BILL + The Ruffed Grouse and the Crossbills. + + XLIV MORE FOLKS IN RED + The Pine Grosbeak and the Redpoll. + + XLV PETER SEES TWO TERRIBLE FEATHERED HUNTERS + The Goshawk and the Great Horned Owl. + + + +THE BURGESS BIRD BOOK FOR CHILDREN + + +CHAPTER I Jenny Wren Arrives. + +Lipperty-lipperty-lip scampered Peter Rabbit behind the +tumble-down stone wall along one side of the Old Orchard. It was +early in the morning, very early in the morning. In fact, jolly, +bright Mr. Sun had hardly begun his daily climb up in the blue, +blue sky. It was nothing unusual for Peter to see jolly Mr. Sun +get up in the morning. It would be more unusual for Peter not to +see him, for you know Peter is a great hand to stay out all night +and not go back to the dear Old Briar-patch, where his home is, +until the hour when most folks are just getting out of bed. + +Peter had been out all night this time, but he wasn't sleepy, not +the least teeny, weeny bit. You see, sweet Mistress Spring had +arrived, and there was so much happening on every side, and Peter +was so afraid he would miss something, that he wouldn't have +slept at all if he could have helped it. Peter had come over to +the Old Orchard so early this morning to see if there had been +any new arrivals the day before. + +"Birds are funny creatures," said Peter, as he hopped over a low +place in the old stone wall and was fairly in the Old Orchard. + +"Tut, tut, tut, tut, tut!" cried a rather sharp scolding voice. +"Tut, tut, tut, tut, tut! You don't know what you are talking +about, Peter Rabbit. They are not funny creatures at all. They +are the most sensible folks in all the wide world." + +Peter cut a long hop short right in the middle, to sit up with +shining eyes. "Oh, Jenny Wren, I'm so glad to see you! When did +you arrive?" he cried. + +"Mr. Wren and I have just arrived, and thank goodness we are here +at last," replied Jenny Wren, fussing about, as only she can, in +a branch above Peter. "I never was more thankful in my life to +see a place than I am right this minute to see the Old Orchard +once more. It seems ages and ages since we left it." + +"Well, if you are so fond of it what did you leave it for?" +demanded Peter. "It is just as I said before--you birds are funny +creatures. You never stay put; at least a lot of you don't. +Sammy Jay and Tommy Tit the Chickadee and Drummer the Woodpecker +and a few others have a little sense; they don't go off on long, +foolish journeys. But the rest of you--" + +"Tut, tut, tut, tut, tut!" interrupted Jenny Wren. "You don't +know what you are talking about, and no one sounds so silly as +one who tries to talk about something he knows nothing about." + +Peter chuckled. "That tongue of yours is just as sharp as ever," +said he. "But just the same it is good to hear it. We certainly +would miss it. I was beginning to be a little worried for fear +something might have happened to you so that you wouldn't be back +here this summer. You know me well enough, Jenny Wren, to know +that you can't hurt me with your tongue, sharp as it is, so you +may as well save your breath to tell me a few things I want to know. +Now if you are as fond of the Old Orchard as you pretend to be, +why did you ever leave it?" + +Jenny Wren's bright eyes snapped. "Why do you eat?" she asked +tartly. + +"Because I'm hungry," replied Peter promptly. + +"What would you eat if there were nothing to eat?" snapped Jenny. + +"That's a silly question," retorted Peter. + +"No more silly than asking me why I leave the Old Orchard," +replied Jenny. "Do give us birds credit for a little common +sense, Peter. We can't live without eating any more than you can, +and in winter there is no food at all here for most of us, so we +go where there is food. Those who are lucky enough to eat the +kinds of food that can be found here in winter stay here. They +are lucky. That's what they are--lucky. Still--" Jenny Wren +paused. + +"Still what?" prompted Peter. + +"I wonder sometimes if you folks who are at home all the time +know just what a blessed place home is," replied Jenny. "It is +only six months since we went south, but I said it seems ages, +and it does. The best part of going away is coming home. I don't +care if that does sound rather mixed; it is true just the same. +It isn't home down there in the sunny South, even if we do spend +as much time there as we do here. THIS is home, and there's no +place like it! What's that, Mr. Wren? I haven't seen all the +Great World? Perhaps I haven't, but I've seen enough of it, let +me tell you that! Anyone who travels a thousand miles twice a +year as we do has a right to express an opinion, especially if +they have used their eyes as I have mine. There is no place like +home, and you needn't try to tease me by pretending that there +is. My dear, I know you; you are just as tickled to be back here +as I am." + +"He sings as if he were," said Peter, for all the time Mr. Wren +was singing with all his might. + +Jenny Wren looked over at Mr. Wren fondly. "Isn't he a dear to +sing to me like that? And isn't it a perfectly beautiful spring +song?" said she. Then, without waiting for Peter to reply, her +tongue rattled on. "I do wish he would be careful. Sometimes I am +afraid he will overdo. Just look at him now! He is singing so +hard that he is shaking all over. He always is that way. There is +one thing true about us Wrens, and this is that when we do things +we do them with all our might. When we work we work with all our +might. When Mr. Wren sings he sings with all his might." + +"And, when you scold you scold with all your might," interrupted +Peter mischievously. + +Jenny Wren opened her mouth for a sharp reply, but laughed +instead. "I suppose I do scold a good deal," said she, "but if I +didn't goodness knows who wouldn't impose on us. I can't bear to +be imposed on." + +"Did you have a pleasant journey up from the sunny South?" asked +Peter. + +"Fairly pleasant," replied Jenny. "We took it rather easily, Some +birds hurry right through without stopping, but I should think +they would be tired to death when they arrive. We rest whenever +we are tired, and just follow along behind Mistress Spring, +keeping far enough behind so that if she has to turn back we will +not get caught by Jack Frost. It gives us time to get our new +suits on the way. You know everybody expects you to have new +things when you return home. How do you like my new suit, Peter?" +Jenny bobbed and twisted and turned to show it off. It was plain +to see that she was very proud of it. + +"Very much," replied Peter. "I am very fond of brown. Brown and +gray are my favorite colors." You know Peter's own coat is brown +and gray. + +"That is one of the most sensible things I have heard you say," +chattered Jenny Wren. The more I see of bright colors the better +I like brown. It always is in good taste. It goes well with +almost everything. It is neat and it is useful. If there is need +of getting out of sight in a hurry you can do it if you wear +brown. But if you wear bright colors it isn't so easy. I never +envy anybody who happens to have brighter clothes than mine. I've +seen dreadful things happen all because of wearing bright +colors." + +"What?" demanded Peter. + +"I'd rather not talk about them," declared Jenny in a very +emphatic way. "'Way down where we spent the winter some of the +feathered folks who live there all the year round wear the +brightest and most beautiful suits I've ever seen. They are +simply gorgeous. But I've noticed that in times of danger these +are the folks dreadful things happen to. You see they simply +can't get out of sight. For my part I would far rather be simply +and neatly dressed and feel safe than to wear wonderful clothes +and never know a minute's peace. Why, there are some families I +know of which, because of their beautiful suits, have been so +hunted by men that hardly any are left. But gracious, Peter +Rabbit, I can't sit here all day talking to you! I must find out +who else has arrived in the Old Orchard and must look my old +house over to see if it is fit to live in." + + + +CHAPTER II The Old Orchard Bully. + +Peter Rabbit's eyes twinkled when Jenny Wren said that she must +look her old house over to see if it was fit to live in. "I can +save you that trouble," said he. + +"What do you mean?" Jenny's voice was very sharp. + +"Only that our old house is already occupied," replied Peter. +"Bully the English Sparrow has been living in it for the last two +months. In fact, he already has a good-sized family there." + +"What?" screamed Jenny and Mr. Wren together. Then without even +saying good-by to Peter, they flew in a great rage to see if he +had told them the truth. Presently he heard them scolding as fast +as their tongues could go, and this is very fast indeed. + +"Much good that will do them," chuckled Peter. "They will have to +find a new house this year. All the sharp tongues in the world +couldn't budge Bully the English sparrow. My, my, my, my, just +hear that racket! I think I'll go over and see what is going on." + +So Peter hopped to a place where he could get a good view of +Jenny Wren's old home and still not be too far from the safety of +the old stone wall. Jenny Wren's old home had been in a hole in +one of the old apple-trees. Looking over to it, Peter could see +Mrs. Bully sitting in the little round doorway and quite filling +it. She was shrieking excitedly. Hopping and flitting from twig +to twig close by were Jenny and Mr. Wren, their tails pointing +almost straight up to the sky, and scolding as fast as they could +make their tongues go. Flying savagely at one and then at the +other, and almost drowning their voices with his own harsh cries, +was Bully himself. He was perhaps one fourth larger than Mr. +Wren, although he looked half again as big. But for the fact that +his new spring suit was very dirty, due to his fondness for +taking dust baths and the fact that he cares nothing about his +personal appearance and takes no care of himself, he would have +been a fairly good-looking fellow. His back was more or less of +an ashy color with black and chestnut stripes. His wings were +brown with a white bar on each. His throat and breast were black, +and below that he was of a dirty white. The sides of his throat +were white and the back of his neck chestnut. + +By ruffling up his feathers and raising his wings slightly as he +hopped about, he managed to make himself appear much bigger than +he really was. He looked like a regular little fighting savage. +The noise had brought all the other birds in the Old Orchard to +see what was going on, and every one of them was screaming and +urging Jenny and Mr. Wren to stand up for their rights. Not one +of them had a good word for Bully and his wife. It certainly was +a disgraceful neighborhood squabble. + +Bully the English Sparrow is a born fighter. He never is happier +than when he is in the midst of a fight or a fuss of some kind. +The fact that all his neighbors were against him didn't bother +Bully in the least. + +Jenny and Mr. Wren are no cowards, but the two together were no +match for Bully. In fact, Bully did not hesitate to fly fiercely +at any of the onlookers who came near enough, not even when they +were twice his own size. They could have driven him from the Old +Orchard had they set out to, but just by his boldness and +appearance he made them afraid to try. + +All the time Mrs. Bully sat in the little round doorway, +encouraging him. She knew that as long as she sat there it would +be impossible for either Jenny or Mr. Wren to get in. Truth to +tell, she was enjoying it all, for she is as quarrelsome and as +fond of fighting as is Bully himself. + +"You're a sneak! You're a robber! That's my house, and the sooner +you get out of it the better!" shrieked Jenny Wren, jerking her +tail with every word as she hopped about just out of reach of +Bully. + +"It may have been your house once, but it is mine now, you little +snip-of-nothing!" cried Bully, rushing at her like a little fury. +"Just try to put us out if you dare! You didn't make this house +in the first place, and you deserted it when you went south last +fall. It's mine now, and there isn't anybody in the Old Orchard +who can put me out." + +Peter Rabbit nodded. "He's right there," muttered Peter. "I don't +like him and never will, but it is true that he has a perfect +right to that house. People who go off and leave things for half +a year shouldn't expect to find them just as they left them. My, +my, my what a dreadful noise! Why don't they all get together and +drive Bully and Mrs. Bully out of the Old Orchard? If they don't +I'm afraid he will drive them out. No one likes to live with such +quarrelsome neighbors. They don't belong over in this country, +anyway, and we would be a lot better off if they were not here. +But I must say I do have to admire their spunk." + +All the time Bully was darting savagely at this one and that one +and having a thoroughly good time, which is more than could be +said of any one else, except Mrs. Bully. + +"I'll teach you folks to know that I am in the Old Orchard to +stay!" shrieked Bully. "If you don't like it, why don't you +fight? I am not afraid of any of you or all of you together." +This was boasting, plain boasting, but it was effective. He +actually made the other birds believe it. Not one of them dared +stand up to him and fight. They were content to call him a bully +and all the bad names they could think of, but that did nothing +to help Jenny and Mr. Wren recover their house. Calling another +bad names never hurts him. Brave deeds and not brave words are +what count. + +How long that disgraceful squabble in the Old Orchard would have +lasted had it not been for something which happened, no one +knows. Right in the midst of it some one discovered Black Pussy, +the cat who lives in Farmer Brown's house, stealing up through +the Old Orchard, her tail twitching and her yellow eyes glaring +eagerly. She had heard that dreadful racket and suspected that in +the midst of such excitement she might have a chance to catch one +of the feathered folks. You can always trust Black Pussy to be on +hand at a time like that. + +No sooner was she discovered than everything else was forgotten. +With Bully in the lead, and Jenny and Mr. Wren close behind him, +all the birds turned their attention to Black Pussy. She was the +enemy of all, and they straightway forgot their own quarrel. Only +Mrs. Bully remained where she was, in the little round doorway of +her house. She intended to take no chances, but she added her +voice to the general racket. How those birds did shriek and +scream! They darted down almost into the face of Black Pussy, and +none went nearer than Bully the English Sparrow and Jenny Wren. + +Now Black Pussy hates to be the center of so much attention. She +knew that, now she had been discovered, there wasn't a chance in +the world for her to catch one of those Old Orchard folks. So, +with tail still twitching angrily, she turned and, with such +dignity as she could, left the Old Orchard. Clear to the edge of +it the birds followed, shrieking, screaming, calling her bad +names, and threatening to do all sorts of dreadful things to her, +quite as if they really could. + +When finally she disappeared towards Farmer Brown's barn, those +angry voices changed. It was such a funny change that Peter +Rabbit laughed right out. Instead of anger there was triumph in +every note as everybody returned to attend to his own affairs. +Jenny and Mr. Wren seemed to have forgotten all about Bully and +his wife in their old house. They flew to another part of the Old +Orchard, there to talk it all over and rest and get their breath. +Peter Rabbit waited to see if they would not come over near +enough to him for a little more gossip. But they didn't, and +finally Peter started for his home in the dear Old Briar-patch. +All the way there he chuckled as he thought of the spunky way in +which Jenny and Mr. Wren had stood up for their rights. + + + +CHAPTER III Jenny Has a Good Word for Some Sparrows. + +The morning after the fight between Jenny and Mr. Wren and Bully +the English Sparrow found Peter Rabbit in the Old Orchard again. +He was so curious to know what Jenny Wren would do for a house +that nothing but some very great danger could have kept him away +from there. Truth to tell, Peter was afraid that not being able +to have their old house, Jenny and Mr. Wren would decide to leave +the Old Orchard altogether. So it was with a great deal of relief +that as he hopped over a low place in the old stone wall he heard +Mr. Wren singing with all his might. + +The song was coming from quite the other side of the Old Orchard +from where Bully and Mrs. Bully had set up housekeeping. Peter +hurried over. He found Mr. Wren right away, but at first saw +nothing of Jenny. He was just about to ask after her when he +caught sight of her with a tiny stick in her bill. She snapped +her sharp little eyes at him, but for once her tongue was still. +You see, she couldn't talk and carry that stick at the same time. +Peter watched her and saw her disappear in a little hole in a big +branch of one of the old apple-trees. Hardly had she popped in +than she popped out again. This time her mouth was free, and so +was her tongue. + +"You'd better stop singing and help me," she said to Mr. Wren +sharply. Mr. Wren obediently stopped singing and began to hunt +for a tiny little twig such as Jenny had taken into that hole. + +"Well!" exclaimed Peter. "It didn't take you long to find a new +house, did it?" + +"Certainly not," snapped Jenny "We can't afford to sit around +wasting time like some folk I know." + +Peter grinned and looked a little foolish, but he didn't resent +it. You see he was quite used to that sort of thing. "Aren't you +afraid that Bully will try to drive you out of that house?" he +ventured. + +Jenny Wren's sharp little eyes snapped more than ever. "I'd like +to see him try!" said she. "That doorway's too small for him to +get more than his head in. And if he tries putting his head in +while I'm inside, I'll peck his eyes out! She said this so +fiercely that Peter laughed right out. + +"I really believe you would," said he. + +"I certainly would," she retorted. "Now I can't stop to talk to +you, Peter Rabbit, because I'm too busy. Mr. Wren, you ought to +know that that stick is too big." Jenny snatched it out of Mr. +Wren's mouth and dropped it on the ground, while Mr. Wren meekly +went to hunt for another. Jenny joined him, and as Peter watched +them he understood why Jenny is so often spoken of as a feathered +busybody. + +For some time Peter Rabbit watched Jenny and Mr. Wren carry +sticks and straws into that little hole until it seemed to him +they were trying to fill the whole inside of the tree. Just +watching them made Peter positively tired. Mr. Wren would stop +every now and then to sing, but Jenny didn't waste a minute. In +spite of that she managed to talk just the same. + +"I suppose Little Friend the Song Sparrow got here some time +ago," said she. + +Peter nodded. "Yes," said he. "I saw him only a day or two ago +over by the Laughing Brook, and although he wouldn't say so, I'm +sure that he has a nest and eggs already." + +Jenny Wren jerked her tail and nodded her head vigorously. "I +suppose so," said she. "He doesn't have to make as long a journey +as we do, so he gets here sooner. Did you ever in your life see +such a difference as there is between Little Friend and his +cousin, Bully? Everybody loves Little Friend." + +Once more Peter nodded. "That's right," said he. "Everybody does +love Little Friend. It makes me feel sort of all glad inside just +to hear him sing. I guess it makes everybody feel that way. I +wonder why we so seldom see him up here in the Old Orchard." + +"Because he likes damp places with plenty of bushes better," +replied Jenny Wren. "It wouldn't do for everybody to like the same +kind of a place. He isn't a tree bird, anyway. He likes to be on +or near the ground. You will never find his nest much above the +ground, not more than a foot or two. Quite often it is on the +ground. Of course I prefer Mr. Wren's song, but I must admit that +Little Friend has one of the happiest songs of any one I know. +Then, too, he is so modest, just like us Wrens." + +Peter turned his head aside to hide a smile, for if there is +anybody who delights in being both seen and heard it is Jenny +Wren, while Little Friend the Song Sparrow is shy and retiring, +content to make all the world glad with his song, but preferring +to keep out of sight as much as possible. + +Jenny chattered on as she hunted for some more material for her +nest. "I suppose you've noticed, said she, "that he and his wife +dress very much alike. They don't go in for bright colors any +more than we Wrens do. They show good taste. I like the little +brown caps they wear, and the way their breasts and sides are +streaked with brown. Then, too, they are such useful folks. It is +a pity that that nuisance of a Bully doesn't learn something from +them. I suppose they stay rather later than we do in the fall." + +"Yes," replied Peter. "They don't go until Jack Frost makes them. +I don't know of any one that we miss more than we do them." + +"Speaking of the sparrow family, did you see anything of +Whitethroat?" asked Jenny Wren, as she rested for a moment in the +doorway of her new house and looked down at Peter Rabbit. + +Peter's face brightened. "I should say I did!" he exclaimed. "He +stopped for a few days on his way north. I only wish he would +stay here all the time. But he seems to think there is no place +like the Great Woods of the North. I could listen all day to his +song. Do you know what he always seems to be saying?" + +"What?" demanded Jenny. + +"I live happ-i-ly, happ-i-ly, happ-i-ly," replied Peter. "I guess +he must too, because he makes other people so happy." + +Jenny nodded in her usual emphatic way. "I don't know him as well +as I do some of the others," said she, "but when I have seen him +down in the South he always has appeared to me to be a perfect +gentleman. He is social, too; he likes to travel with others." + +"I've noticed that," said Peter. "He almost always has company +when he passes through here. Some of those Sparrows are so much +alike that it is hard for me to tell them apart, but I can always +tell Whitethroat because he is one of the largest of the tribe and +has such a lovely white throat. He really is handsome with his +black and white cap and that bright yellow spot before each eye. +I am told that he is very dearly loved up in the north where he +makes his home. They say he sings all the time." + +"I suppose Scratcher the Fox Sparrow has been along too," said +Jenny. "He also started sometime before we did." + +"Yes," replied Peter. "He spent one night in the dear Old +Briar-patch. He is fine looking too, the biggest of all the +Sparrow tribe, and HOW he can sing. The only thing I've got +against him is the color of his coat. It always reminds me of +Reddy Fox, and I don't like anything that reminds me of that +fellow. When he visited us I discovered something about Scratcher +which I don't believe you know." + +"What?" demanded Jenny rather sharply. + +"That when he scratches among the leaves he uses both feet at +once," cried Peter triumphantly. "It's funny to watch him." + +"Pooh! I knew that," retorted Jenny Wren. "What do you suppose my +eyes are make for? I thought you were going to tell me something +I didn't know." + +Peter looked disappointed. + + + +CHAPTER IV Chippy, Sweetvoice, and Dotty. + +For a while Jenny Wren was too busy to talk save to scold Mr. +Wren for spending so much time singing instead of working. To +Peter it seemed as if they were trying to fill that tree trunk +with rubbish. "I should think they had enough stuff in there for +half a dozen nests," muttered Peter. "I do believe they are +carrying it in for the fun of working." Peter wasn't far wrong in +this thought, as he was to discover a little later in the season +when he found Mr. Wren building another nest for which he had no +use. + +Finding that for the time being he could get nothing more from +Jenny Wren, Peter hopped over to visit Johnny Chuck, whose home +was between the roots of an old apple-tree in the far corner of +the Old Orchard. Peter was still thinking of the Sparrow family; +what a big family it was, yet how seldom any of them, excepting +Bully the English Sparrow, were to be found in the Old Orchard. + +"Hello, Johnny Chuck!" cried Peter, as he discovered Johnny +sitting on his doorstep. "You've lived in the Old Orchard a long +time, so you ought to be able to tell me something I want to +know. Why is it that none of the Sparrow family excepting that +noisy nuisance, Bully, build in the trees of the Old Orchard? Is +it because Bully has driven all the rest out?" + +Johnny Chuck shook his head. "Peter," said he, "whatever is the +matter with your ears? And whatever is the matter with your +eyes?" + +"Nothing," replied Peter rather shortly. "They are as good as +yours any day, Johnny Chuck." + +Johnny grinned. "Listen!" said Johnny. Peter listened. From a +tree just a little way off came a clear "Chip, chip, chip, chip." +Peter didn't need to be told to look. He knew without looking who +was over there. He knew that voice for that of one of his oldest +and best friends in the Old Orchard, a little fellow with a +red-brown cap, brown back with feathers streaked with black, +brownish wings and tail, a gray waistcoat and black bill, and a +little white line over each eye--altogether as trim a little +gentleman as Peter was acquainted with. It was Chippy, as +everybody calls the Chipping Sparrow, the smallest of the family. + +Peter looked a little foolish. "I forgot all about Chippy," said +he. "Now I think of it, I have found Chippy here in the Old +Orchard ever since I can remember. I never have seen his nest +because I never happened to think about looking for it. Does he +build a trashy nest like his cousin, Bully?" + +Johnny Chuck laughed. "I should say not!" he exclaimed. "Twice +Chippy and Mrs. Chippy have built their nest in this very old +apple-tree. There is no trash in their nest, I can tell you! It +is just as dainty as they are, and not a bit bigger than it has +to be. It is made mostly of little fine, dry roots, and it is +lined inside with horse-hair." + +"What's that?" Peter's voice sounded as it he suspected that +Johnny Chuck was trying to fool him. + +"It's a fact," said Johnny, nodding his head gravely. "Goodness +knows where they find it these days, but find it they do. Here +comes Chippy himself; ask him." + +Chippy and Mrs. Chippy came flitting from tree to tree until they +were on a branch right over Peter and Johnny. "Hello!" cried +Peter. "You folks seem very busy. Haven't you finished building +your nest yet?" + +"Nearly," replied Chippy. "It is all done but the horsehair. We +are on our way up to Farmer Brown's barnyard now to look for +some. You haven't seen any around anywhere, have you?" + +Peter and Johnny shook their heads, and Peter confessed that he +wouldn't know horsehair if he saw it. He often had found hair +from the coats of Reddy Fox and Old Man Coyote and Digger the +Badger and Lightfoot the Deer, but hair from the coat of a horse +was altogether another matter. + +"It isn't hair from the coat of a horse that we want," cried +Chippy, as he prepared to fly after Mrs. Chippy. "It is long hair +form the tail or mane of a horse that we must have. It makes the +very nicest kind of lining for a nest." + +Chippy and Mrs. Chippy were gone a long time, but when they did +return each was carrying a long black hair. They had found what +they wanted, and Mrs. Chippy was in high spirits because, as she +took pains to explain to Peter, that little nest would not soon +be ready for the four beautiful little blue eggs with black spots +on one end she meant to lay in it. + +"I just love Chippy and Mrs. Chippy," said Peter, as they watched +their two little feathered friends putting the finishing touches +to the little nest far out on a branch of one of the apple-trees. + +"Everybody does," replied Johnny. "Everybody loves them as much +as they hate Bully and his wife. Did you know that they are +sometimes called Tree Sparrows? I suppose it is because they so +often build their nests in trees?" + +"No," said Peter, "I didn't. Chippy shouldn't be called Tree +Sparrow, because he has a cousin by that name." + +Johnny Chuck looked as if he doubted that, "I never heard of +him," he grunted. + +Peter grinned. Here was a chance to tell Johnny Chuck something, +and Peter never is happier than when he can tell folks something +they don't know. "You'd know him if you didn't sleep all winter," +said Peter. "Dotty the Tree Sparrow spends the winter here. He +left for his home in the Far North about the time you took it +into your head to wake up." + +"Why do you call him Dotty?" asked Johnny Chuck. + +"Because he has a little round black dot right in the middle of +his breast," replied Peter. "I don't know why they call him Tree +Sparrow; he doesn't spend his time in the trees the way Chippy +does, but I see him much oftener in low bushes or on the ground. +I think Chippy has much more right to the name of Tree Sparrow +than Dotty has. Now I think of it, I've heard Dotty called the +Winter Chippy." + +"Gracious, what a mix-up!" exclaimed Johnny Chuck. "With Chippy +being called a Tree Sparrow and a Tree Sparrow called Chippy, I +should think folks would get all tangled up." + +"Perhaps they would," replied Peter, "if both were here at the +same time, but Chippy comes just as Dotty goes, and Dotty comes +as Chippy goes. That's a pretty good arrangement, especially as +they look very much alike, excepting that Dotty is quite a little +bigger than Chippy and always has that black dot, which Chippy +does not have. Goodness gracious, it is time I was back in the +dear Old Briar-patch! Good-by, Johnny Chuck." + +Away went Peter Rabbit, lipperty-lipperty-lip, heading for the +dear Old Briar-patch. Out of the grass just ahead of him flew a +rather pale, streaked little brown bird, and as he spread his +tail Peter saw two white feathers on the outer edges. Those two +white feathers were all Peter needed to recognize another little +friend of whom he is very fond. It was Sweetvoice the Vesper +Sparrow, the only one of the Sparrow family with white feathers +in his tail. + +"Come over to the dear Old Briar-patch and sing to me," cried +Peter. + +Sweetvoice dropped down into the grass again, and when Peter came +up, was very busy getting a mouthful of dry grass. "Can't," +mumbled Sweetvoice. "Can't do it now, Peter Rabbit. I'm too busy. +It is high time our nest was finished, and Mrs. Sweetvoice will +lose her patience if I don't get this grass over there pretty +quick." + +"Where is your nest; in a tree?" asked Peter innocently. + +"That's telling," declared Sweetvoice. "Not a living soul knows +where that nest is, excepting Mrs. Sweetvoice and myself. This +much I will tell you, Peter: it isn't in a tree. And I'll tell +you this much more: it is in a hoofprint of Bossy the Cow." + +"In a WHAT?" cried Peter. + +"In a hoofprint of Bossy the Cow," repeated Sweetvoice, chuckling +softly. "You know when the ground was wet and soft early this +spring, Bossy left deep footprints wherever she went. One of +these makes the nicest kind of a place for a nest. I think we +have picked out the very best one on all the Green Meadows. Now +run along, Peter Rabbit, and don't bother me any more. I've got +too much to do to sit here talking. Perhaps I'll come over to the +edge of the dear Old Briar-patch and sing to you a while just +after jolly, round, red Mr. Sun goes to bed behind the Purple +Hills. I just love to sing then." + +"I'll be watching for you," replied Peter. "You don't love to +sing any better than I love to hear you. I think that is the best +time of all the day in which to sing. I mean, I think it's the +best time to hear singing," for of course Peter himself does not +sing at all. + +That night, sure enough, just as the Black Shadows came creeping +out over the Green Meadows, Sweetvoice, perched on the top of a +bramble-bush over Peter's head, sang over and over again the +sweetest little song and kept on singing even after it was quite +dark. Peter didn't know it, but it is this habit of singing in +the evening which has given Sweetvoice his name of Vesper +Sparrow. + + + +CHAPTER V Peter Learns Something He Hadn't Guessed. + +Running over to the Old Orchard very early in the morning for a +little gossip with Jenny Wren and his other friends there had +become a regular thing with Peter Rabbit. He was learning a great +many things, and some of them were most surprising. + +Now two of Peter's oldest and best friends in the Old Orchard +were Winsome Bluebird and Welcome Robin. Every spring they arrived +pretty nearly together, though Winsome Bluebird usually was a few +days ahead of Welcome Robin. This year Winsome had arrived while +the snow still lingered in patches. He was, as he always is, the +herald of sweet Mistress Spring. And when Peter had heard for the +first time Winsome's soft, sweet whistle, which seemed to come +from nowhere in particular and from everywhere in general, he had +kicked up his long hind legs from pure joy. Then, when a few days +later he had heard Welcome Robin's joyous message of "Cheer-up! +Cheer-up! Cheer-up! Cheer-up! Cheer!" from the tiptop of a tall +tree, he had known that Mistress Spring really had arrived. + +Peter loves Winsome Bluebird and Welcome Robin, just as everybody +else does, and he had known them so long and so well that he +thought he knew all there was to know about them. He would have +been very indignant had anybody told him he didn't. + +"Those cousins don't look much alike, do they?" remarked Jenny +Wren, as she poked her head out of her house to gossip with +Peter. + +"What cousins?" demanded Peter, staring very hard in the +direction in which Jenny Wren was looking. + +"Those two sitting on the fence over there. Where are your eyes, +Peter?" replied Jenny rather sharply. + +Peter stared harder than ever. On one post sat Winsome Bluebird, +and on another post sat Welcome Robin. "I don't see anybody but +Winsome and Welcome, and they are not even related," replied +Peter with a little puzzled frown. + +"Tut, tut, tut, tut, tut, Peter!" exclaimed Jenny Wren. "Tut, +tut, tut, tut, tut! Who told you any such nonsense as that? Of +course they are related. They are cousins. I thought everybody +knew that. They belong to the same family that Melody the Thrush +and all the other Thrushes belong to. That makes them all +cousins." + +"What?" exclaimed Peter, looking as if he didn't believe a word +of what Jenny Wren had said. Jenny repeated, and still Peter +looked doubtful. + +Then Jenny lost her temper, a thing she does very easily. "If you +don't believe me, go ask one of them," she snapped, and +disappeared inside her house, where Peter could hear her scolding +away to herself. + +The more he thought of it, the more this struck Peter as good +advice. So he hopped over to the foot of the fence post on which +Winsome Bluebird was sitting. "Jenny Wren says that you and +Welcome Robin are cousins. She doesn't know what she is talking +about, does she?" asked Peter. + +Winsome chuckled. It was a soft, gentle chuckle. "Yes," said he, +nodding his head, "we are. You can trust that little busybody to +know what she is talking about, every time. I sometimes think she +knows more about other people's affairs than about her own. +Welcome and I may not look much alike, but we are cousins just +the same. Don't you think Welcome is looking unusually fine this +spring?" + +"Not a bit finer than you are yourself, Winsome," replied Peter +politely. "I just love that sky-blue coat of yours. What is the +reason that Mrs. Bluebird doesn't wear as bright a coat as you +do?" + +"Go ask Jenny Wren," chuckled Winsome Bluebird, and before Peter +could say another word he flew over to the roof of Farmer Brown's +house. + +Back scampered Peter to tell Jenny Wren that he was sorry he had +doubted her and that he never would again. Then he begged Jenny +to tell him why it was that Mrs. Bluebird was not as brightly +dressed as was Winsome. + +"Mrs. Bluebird, like most mothers, is altogether too busy to +spend much time taking care of her clothes; and fine clothes need +a lot of care," replied Jenny. "Besides, when Winsome is about he +attracts all the attention and that gives her a chance to slip in +and out of her nest without being noticed. I don't believe you +know, Peter Rabbit, where Winsome's nest is." + +Peter had to admit that he didn't, although he had tried his best +to find out by watching Winsome. "I think it's over in that +little house put up by Farmer Brown's boy," he ventured. "I saw +both Mr. and Mrs. Bluebird go in it when they first came, and +I've seen Winsome around it a great deal since, so I guess it is +there." + +"So you guess it is there!" mimicked Jenny Wren. "Well, your +guess is quite wrong, Peter; quite wrong. As a matter of fact, it +is in one of those old fence posts. But just which one I am not +going to tell you. I will leave that for you to find out. Mrs. +Bluebird certainly shows good sense. She knows a good house when +she sees it. The hole in that post is one of the best holes +anywhere around here. If I had arrived here early enough I would +have taken it myself. But Mrs. Bluebird already had her nest +built in it and four eggs there, so there was nothing for me to +do but come here. Just between you and me, Peter, I think the +Bluebirds show more sense in nest building than do their cousins +the Robins. There is nothing like a house with stout walls and a +doorway just big enough to get in and out of comfortably." + +Peter nodded quite as if he understood all about the advantages +of a house with walls. "That reminds me," said he. "The other day +I saw Welcome Robin getting mud and carrying it away. Pretty soon +he was joined by Mrs. Robin, and she did the same thing. They +kept it up till I got tired of watching them. What were they +doing with that mud?" + +"Building their nest, of course, stupid," retorted Jenny. +"Welcome Robin, with that black head, beautiful russet breast, +black and white throat and yellow bill, not to mention the proud +way in which he carries himself, certainly is a handsome fellow, +and Mrs. Robin is only a little less handsome. How they can be +content to build the kind of a home they do is more than I can +understand. People think that Mr. Wren and I use a lot of trash +in our nest. Perhaps we do, but I can tell you one thing, and +that is it is clean trash. It is just sticks and clean straws, +and before I lay my eggs I see to it that my nest is lined with +feathers. More than this, there isn't any cleaner housekeeper +than I am, if I do say it. + +"Welcome Robin is a fine looker and a fine singer, and everybody +loves him. But when it comes to housekeeping, he and Mrs. Robin +are just plain dirty. They make the foundation of their nest of +mud,--plain, common, ordinary mud. They cover this with dead +grass, and sometimes there is mighty little of this over the +inside walls of mud. I know because I've seen the inside of their +nest often. Anybody with any eyes at all can find their nest. +More than once I've known them to have their nest washed away in +a heavy rain, or have it blown down in a high wind. Nothing like +that ever happens to Winsome Bluebird or to me." + +Jenny disappeared inside her house, and Peter waited for her to +come out again. Welcome Robin flew down on the ground, ran a few +steps, and then stood still with his head on one side as if +listening. Then he reached down and tugged at something, and +presently out of the ground came a long, wriggling angleworm. +Welcome gulped it down and ran on a few steps, then once more +paused to listen. This time he turned and ran three or four steps +to the right, where he pulled another worm out of the ground. + +"He acts as if he heard those worms in the ground," said Peter, +speaking aloud without thinking. + +"He does," said Jenny Wren, poking her head out of her doorway +just as Peter spoke. "How do you suppose he would find them when +they are in the ground if he didn't hear them?" + +"Can you hear them?" asked Peter. + +"I've never tried, and I don't intend to waste my time trying," +retorted Jenny. "Welcome Robin may enjoy eating them, but for my +part I want something smaller and daintier, young grasshoppers, +tender young beetles, small caterpillars, bugs and spiders." + +Peter had to turn his head aside to hide the wry face he just had +to make at the mention of such things as food. "Is that all +Welcome Robin eats?" he asked innocently. + +"I should say not," laughed Jenny. "He eats a lot of other kinds +of worms, and he just dearly loves fruit like strawberries and +cherries and all sorts of small berries. Well, I can't stop here +talking any longer. I'm going to tell you a secret, Peter, if +you'll promise not to tell." + +Of course Peter promised, and Jenny leaned so far down that Peter +wondered how she could keep from falling as she whispered, "I've +got seven eggs in my nest, so if you don't see much of me for the +next week or more, you'll know why. I've just got to sit on those +eggs and keep them warm." + + + +CHAPTER VI An Old Friend In a New Home. + +Every day brought newcomers to the Old Orchard, and early in the +morning there were so many voices to be heard that perhaps it is +no wonder if for some time Peter Rabbit failed to miss that of +one of his very good friends. Most unexpectedly he was reminded +of this as very early one morning he scampered, lipperty- +lipperty-lip, across a little bridge over the Laughing Brook. + +"Dear me! Dear me! Dear me!" cried rather a plaintive voice. +Peter stopped so suddenly that he all but fell heels over head. +Sitting on the top of a tall, dead, mullein stalk was a very +soberly dressed but rather trim little fellow, a very little +larger than Bully the English Sparrow. Above, his coat was of a +dull olive-brown, while underneath he was of a grayish-white, +with faint tinges of yellow in places. His head was dark, and his +bill black. The feathers on his head were lifted just enough to +make the tiniest kind of crest. His wings and tail were dusky, +little bars of white showing very faintly on his wings, while the +outer edges of his tail were distinctly white. He sat with his +tail hanging straight down, as if he hadn't strength enough to +hold it up. + +"Hello, Dear Me!" cried Peter joyously. "What are you doing way +down here? I haven't seen you since you first arrived, just after +Winsome Bluebird got here." Peter started to say that he had +wondered what had become of Dear Me, but checked himself, for +Peter is very honest and he realized now that in the excitement +of greeting so many friends he hadn't missed Dear Me at all. + +Dear Me the Phoebe did not reply at once, but darted out into the +air, and Peter heard a sharp click of that little black bill. +Making a short circle, Dear Me alighted on the mullein stalk +again. + +"Did you catch a fly then?" asked Peter. + +"Dear me! Dear me! Of course I did," was the prompt reply. And +with each word there was a jerk of that long hanging tail. Peter +almost wondered if in some way Dear Me's tongue and tail were +connected. "I suppose," said he, "that it is the habit of +catching flies and bugs in the air that has given your family the +name of Flycatchers." + +Dear Me nodded and almost at once started into the air again. +Once more Peter heard the click of that little black bill, then +Dear Me was back on his perch. Peter asked again what he was +doing down there. + +"Mrs. Phoebe and I are living down here," replied Dear Me. "We've +made our home down here and we like it very much." + +Peter looked all around, this way, that way, every way, with the +funniest expression on his face. He didn't see anything of Mrs. +Phoebe and he didn't see any place in which he could imagine Mr. +and Mrs. Phoebe building a nest. "What are you looking for?" +asked Dear Me. + +"For Mrs. Phoebe and your home, declared Peter quite frankly. "I +didn't suppose you and Mrs. Phoebe ever built a nest on the +ground, and I don't see any other place around here for one." + +Dear Me chuckled. "I wouldn't tell any one but you, Peter," said +he, "but I've known you so long that I'm going to let you into a +little secret. Mrs. Phoebe and our home are under the very bridge +you are sitting on." + +"I don't believe it!" cried Peter. + +But Dear Me knew from the way Peter said it that he really didn't +mean that. "Look and see for yourself," said Dear Me. + +So Peter lay flat on his stomach and tried to stretch his head +over the edge of the bridge so as to see under it. But his neck +wasn't long enough, or else he was afraid to lean over as far as +he might have. Finally he gave up and at Mr. Phoebe's suggestion +crept down the bank to the very edge of the Laughing Brook. Dear +Me darted out to catch another fly, then flew right in under the +bridge and alighted on a little ledge of stone just beneath the +floor. There, sure enough, was a nest, and Peter could see Mrs. +Phoebe's bill and the top of her head above the edge of it. It +was a nest with a foundation of mud covered with moss and lined +with feathers. + +"That's perfectly splendid!" cried Peter, as Dear Me resumed his +perch on the old mullein stalk. "How did you ever come to think +of such a place? And why did you leave the shed up at Farmer +Brown's where you have build your home for the last two or three +years?" + +"Oh," replied Dear Me, "we Phoebes always have been fond of +building under bridges. You see a place like this is quite safe. +Then, too, we like to be near water. Always there are many +insects flying around where there is water, so it is an easy +matter to get plenty to eat. I left the shed at Farmer Brown's +because that pesky cat up there discovered our nest last year, +and we had a dreadful time keeping our babies out of her +clutches. She hasn't found us down here, and she wouldn't be able +to trouble us if she should find us." + +"I suppose," said Peter, "that as usual you were the first of +your family to arrive." + +"Certainly. Of course," replied Dear Me. "We always are the +first. Mrs. Phoebe and I don't go as far south in winter as the +other members of the family do. They go clear down into the +Tropics, but we manage to pick up a pretty good living without +going as far as that. So we get back here before the rest of +them, and usually have begun housekeeping by the time they +arrive. My cousin, Chebec the Least Flycatcher, should be here by +this time. Haven't you heard anything of him up in the Old +Orchard?" + +"No," replied Peter, "but to tell the truth I haven't looked for +him. I'm on my way to the Old Orchard now, and I certainly shall +keep my ears and eyes open for Chebec. I'll tell you if I find +him. Good-by." + +"Dear me! Dear me! Good-by Peter. Dear me!" replied Mr. Phoebe as +Peter started off for the Old Orchard. + +Perhaps it was because Peter was thinking of him that almost the +first voice he heard when he reached the Old Orchard was that of +Chebec, repeating his own name over and over as if he loved the +sound of it. It didn't take Peter long to find him. He was +sitting out on the up of one of the upper branches of an +apple-tree where he could watch for flies and other winged insects. +He looked so much like Mr. Phoebe, save that he was smaller, that +any one would have know they were cousins. "Chebec! Chebec! +Chebec!" he repeated over and over, and with every note jerked +his tail. Now and then he would dart out into the air and snap up +something so small that Peter, looking up from the ground, +couldn't see it at all. + +"Hello, Chebec!" cried Peter. "I'm glad to see you back again. +Are you going to build in the Old Orchard this year?" + +"Of course I am," replied Chebec promptly. "Mrs. Chebec and I +have built here for the last two or three years, and we wouldn't +think of going anywhere else. Mrs. Chebec is looking for a place +now. I suppose I ought to be helping her, but I learned a long +time ago, Peter Rabbit, that in matters of this kind it is just +as well not to have any opinion at all. When Mrs. Chebec has +picked out just the place she wants, I'll help her build the +nest. It certainly is good to be back here in the Old Orchard and +planning a home once more. We've made a terribly long journey, +and I for one am glad it's over." + +"I just saw your cousins, Mr. and Mrs. Phoebe, and they already +have a nest and eggs," said Peter. + +"The Phoebes are a funny lot," replied Chebec. "They are the only +members of the family that can stand cold weather. What pleasure +they get out of it I don't understand. They are queer anyway, for +they never build their nests in trees as the rest of us do." + +"Are you the smallest in the family?" asked Peter, for it had +suddenly struck him that Chebec was a very little fellow indeed. + +Chebec nodded. "I'm the smallest," said he. "That's why they call +me Least Flycatcher. I may be least in size, but I can tell you +one thing, Peter Rabbit, and that is that I can catch just as +many bugs and flies as any of them." Suiting action to the word, +he darted out into the air. His little bill snapped and with a +quick turn he was back on his former perch, jerking his tail and +uttering his sharp little cry of, "Chebec! Chebec! Chebec!" +until Peter began to wonder which he was the most fond of, +catching flies, or the sound of his own voice. + +Presently they both heard Mrs. Chebec calling from somewhere in +the middle of the Old Orchard. "Excuse me, Peter," said Chebec, +"I must go at once. Mrs. Chebec says she has found just the place +for our nest, and now we've got a busy time ahead of us. We are +very particular how we build a nest." + +"Do you start it with mud the way Welcome Robin and your cousins, +the Phoebes, do?" asked Peter. + +"Mud!" cried Chebec scornfully. "Mud! I should say not! I would +have you understand, Peter, that we are very particular about +what we use in our nest. We use only the finest of rootlets, +strips of soft bark, fibers of plants, the brown cotton that +grows on ferns, and perhaps a little hair when we can find it. We +make a dainty nest, if I do say it, and we fasten it securely in +the fork made by two or three upright little branches. Now I must +go because Mrs. Chebec is getting impatient. Come see me when I'm +not so busy Peter." + + + +CHAPTER VII The Watchman of the Old Orchard. + +A few days after Chebec and his wife started building their nest +in the Old Orchard Peter dropped around as usual for a very early +call. He found Chebec very busy hunting for materials for that +nest, because, as he explained to Peter, Mrs. Chebec is very +particular indeed about what her nest is made of. But he had time +to tell Peter a bit of news. + +"My fighting cousin and my handsomest cousin arrived together +yesterday, and now our family is very well represented in the Old +Orchard," said Chebec proudly. + +Slowly Peter reached over his back with his long left hind foot +and thoughtfully scratched his long right ear. He didn't like to +admit that he couldn't recall those two cousins of Chebec's. "Did +you say your fighting cousin?" he asked in a hesitating way. + +"That's what I said," replied Chebec. "He is Scrapper the +Kingbird, as of course you know. The rest of us always feel safe +when he is about." + +"Of course I know him," declared Peter, his face clearing. "Where +is he now?" + +At that very instant a great racket broke out on the other side +of the Old Orchard and in no time at all the feathered folks were +hurrying from every direction, screaming at the top of their +voices. Of course, Peter couldn't be left out of anything like +that, and he scampered for the scene of trouble as fast as his +legs could take him. When he got there he saw Redtail the Hawk +flying up and down and this way and that way, as if trying to get +away from something or somebody. + +For a minute Peter couldn't think what was the trouble with +Redtail, and then he saw. A white-throated, white-breasted bird, +having a black cap and back, and a broad white band across the +end of his tail, was darting at Redtail as if he meant to pull +out every feather in the latter's coat. + +He was just a little smaller than Welcome Robin, and in +comparison with him Redtail was a perfect giant. But this seemed +to make no difference to Scrapper, for that is who it was. He +wasn't afraid, and he intended that everybody should know it, +especially Redtail. It is because of his fearlessness that he is +called Kingbird. All the time he was screaming at the top of his +lungs, calling Redtail a robber and every other bad name he could +think of. All the other birds joined him in calling Redtail bad +names. But none, not even Bully the English Sparrow, was brave +enough to join him in attacking big Redtail. + +When he had succeeded in driving Redtail far enough from the Old +Orchard to suit him, Scrapper flew back and perched on a dead +branch of one of the trees, where he received the congratulations +of all his feathered neighbors. He took them quite modestly, +assuring them that he had done nothing, nothing at all, but that +he didn't intend to have any of the Hawk family around the Old +Orchard while he lived there. Peter couldn't help but admire +Scrapper for his courage. + +As Peter looked up at Scrapper he saw that, like all the rest of +the flycatchers, there was just the tiniest of hooks on the end +of his bill. Scrapper's slightly raised cap seemed all black, but +if Peter could have gotten close enough, he would have found that +hidden in it was a patch of orange-red. While Peter sat staring +up at him Scrapper suddenly darted out into the air, and his bill +snapped in quite the same way Chebec's did when he caught a fly. +But it wasn't a fly that Scrapper had. It was a bee. Peter saw it +very distinctly just as Scrapper snapped it up. It reminded Peter +that he had often heard Scrapper called the Bee Martin, and now +he understood why. + +"Do you live on bees altogether?" asked Peter. + +"Bless your heart, Peter, no," replied Scrapper with a chuckle. +"There wouldn't be any honey if I did. I like bees. I like them +first rate. But they form only a very small part of my food. +Those that I do catch are mostly drones, and you know the drones +are useless. They do no work at all. It is only by accident that +I now and then catch a worker. I eat all kinds of insects that +fly and some that don't. I'm one of Farmer Brown's best friends, +if he did but know it. You can talk all you please about the +wonderful eyesight of the members of the Hawk family, but if any +one of them has better eyesight than I have, I'd like to know who +it is. There's a fly 'way over there beyond that old apple-tree; +watch me catch it." + +Peter knew better than to waste any effort trying to see that +fly. He knew that he couldn't have seen it had it been only one +fourth that distance away. But if he couldn't see the fly he +could hear the sharp click of Scrapper's bill, and he knew by the +way Scrapper kept opening and shutting his mouth after his return +that he had caught that fly and it had tasted good. + +"Are you going to build in the Old Orchard this year?" asked +Peter. + +"Of course I am," declared Scrapper. "I--" + +Just then he spied Blacky the Crow and dashed out to meet him. +Blacky saw him coming and was wise enough to suddenly appear to +have no interest whatever in the Old Orchard, turning away toward +the Green Meadows instead. + +Peter didn't wait for Scrapper to return. It was getting high +time for him to scamper home to the dear Old Briar-patch and so +he started along, lipperty-lipperty-lip. Just as he was leaving +the far corner of the Old Orchard some one called him. "Peter! +Oh, Peter Rabbit!" called the voice. Peter stopped abruptly, sat +up very straight, looked this way, looked that way and looked the +other way, every way but the right way. + +"Look up over your head," cried the voice, rather a harsh voice. +Peter looked, then all in a flash it came to him who it was +Chebec had meant by the handsomest member of his family. It was +Cresty the Great Crested Flycatcher. He was a wee bit bigger than +Scrapper the Kingbird, yet not quite so big as Welcome Robin, and +more slender. His throat and breast were gray, shading into +bright yellow underneath. His back and head were of a +grayish-brown with a tint of olive-green. A pointed cap was all +that was needed to make him quite distinguished looking. He +certainly was the handsomest as well as the largest of the +Flycatcher family. + +"You seem to be in a hurry, so don't let me detain you, Peter," +said Cresty, before Peter could find his tongue. "I just want to +ask one little favor of you." + +"What is it?" asked Peter, who is always glad to do any one a +favor. + +"If in your roaming about you run across an old cast-off suit of +Mr. Black Snake, or of any other member of the Snake family, I +wish you would remember me and let me know. Will you, Peter?" +said Cresty. + +"A--a--a--what?" stammered Peter. + +"A cast-off suit of clothes from any member of the Snake family," +replied Cresty somewhat impatiently. "Now don't forget, Peter. +I've got to go house hunting, but you'll find me there or +hereabouts, if it happens that you find one of those cast-off +Snake suits." + +Before Peter could say another word Cresty had flown away. Peter +hesitated, looking first towards the dear Old Briar-patch and +then towards Jenny Wren's house. He just couldn't understand +about those cast-off suits of the Snake family, and he felt sure +that Jenny Wren could tell him. Finally curiosity got the best of +him, and back he scampered, lipperty-lipperty-lip, to the foot of +the tree in which Jenny Wren had her home. + +"Jenny!" called Peter. "Jenny Wren! Jenny Wren!" No one answered +him. He could hear Mr. Wren singing in another tree, but he +couldn't see him. "Jenny! Jenny Wren! Jenny Wren!" called Peter +again. This time Jenny popped her head out, and her little eyes +fairly snapped. "Didn't I tell you the other day, Peter Rabbit, +that I'm not to be disturbed? Didn't I tell you that I've got +seven eggs in here, and that I can't spend any time gossiping? +Didn't I, Peter Rabbit? Didn't I? Didn't I?" + +"You certainly did, Jenny. You certainly did, and I'm sorry to +disturb you," replied Peter meekly. "I wouldn't have thought of +doing such a thing, but I just didn't know who else to go to." + +"Go to for what?" snapped Jenny Wren. "What is it you've come to +me for?" + +"Snake skins," replied Peter. + +"Snake skins! Snake skins!" shrieked Jenny Wren. "What are you +talking about, Peter Rabbit? I never have anything to do with +Snake skins and don't want to. Ugh! It makes me shiver just to +think of it." + +"You don't understand," cried Peter hurriedly. "What I want to +know is, why should Cresty the Flycatcher ask me to please let +him know if I found any cast-off suits of the Snake family? He +flew away before I could ask him why he wants them, and so I came +to you, because I know you know everything, especially everything +concerning your neighbors." + +Jenny Wren looked as if she didn't know whether to feel flattered +or provoked. But Peter looked so innocent that she concluded he +was trying to say something nice. + + + +CHAPTER VIII Old Clothes and Old Houses. + +"I can't stop to talk to you any longer now, Peter Rabbit," said +Jenny Wren, "but if you will come over here bright and early +to-morrow morning, while I am out to get my breakfast, I will +tell you about Cresty the Flycatcher and why he wants the +cast-off clothes of some of the Snake family. Perhaps I should +say WHAT he wants of them instead of WHY he wants them, for why +any one should want anything to do with Snakes is more then I can +understand." + +With this Jenny Wren disappeared inside her house, and there was +nothing for Peter to do but once more start for the dear Old +Briar-patch. On his way he couldn't resist the temptation to run +over to the Green Forest, which was just beyond the Old Orchard. +He just HAD to find out if there was anything new over there. +Hardly had he reached it when he heard a plaintive voice crying, +"Pee-wee! Pee-wee! Pee-wee!" Peter chuckled happily. "I declare, +there's Pee-wee," he cried. "He usually is one of the last of the +Flycatcher family to arrive. I didn't expect to find him yet. I +wonder what has brought him up so early." + +It didn't take Peter long to find Pewee. He just followed the +sound of that voice and presently saw Pewee fly out and make the +same kind of a little circle as the other members of the family +make when they are hunting flies. It ended just where it had +started, on a dead twig of a tree in a shady, rather lonely part +of the Green Forest. Almost at once he began to call his name in +a rather sad, plaintive tone, "Pee-wee! Pee-wee! Pee-wee!" But he +wasn't sad, as Peter well knew. It was his way of expressing how +happy he felt. He was a little bigger than his cousin, Chebec, +but looked very much like him. There was a little notch in the +end of his tail. The upper half of his bill was black, but the +lower half was light. Peter could see on each wing two whitish +bars, and he noticed that Pewee's wings were longer than his +tail, which wasn't the case with Chebec. But no one could ever +mistake Pewee for any of his relatives, for the simple reason +that he keeps repeating his own name over and over. + +"Aren't you here early?" asked Peter. + +Pewee nodded. "Yes," said he. "It has been unusually warm this +spring, so I hurried a little and came up with my cousins, +Scrapper and Cresty. That is something I don't often do." + +"If you please," Peter inquired politely, "why do folks call you +Wood Pewee?" + +Pewee chuckled happily. "It must be," said he, "because I am so +very fond of the Green Forest. It is so quiet and restful that I +love it. Mrs. Pewee and I are very retiring. We do not like too +many near neighbors." + +"You won't mind if I come to see you once in a while, will you?" +asked Peter as he prepared to start on again for the dear Old +Briar-patch. + +"Come as often as you like," replied Pewee. "The oftener the +better." + +Back in the Old Briar-patch Peter thought over all he had learned +about the Flycatcher family, and as he recalled how they were +forever catching all sorts of flying insects it suddenly struck +him that they must be very useful little people in helping Old +Mother Nature take care of her trees and other growing things +which insects so dearly love to destroy. + +But most of all Peter thought about that queer request of +Cresty's, and a dozen times that day he found himself peeping +under old logs in the hope of finding a cast-off coat of Mr. +Black Snake. It was such a funny thing for Cresty to ask for that +Peter's curiosity would allow him no peace, and the next morning +he was up in the Old Orchard before jolly Mr. Sun had kicked his +bedclothes off. + +Jenny Wren was as good as her word. While she flitted and hopped +about this way and that way in that fussy way of hers, getting +her breakfast, she talked. Jenny couldn't keep her tongue still +if she wanted to. + +"Did you find any old clothes of the Snake family?" she demanded. +Then as Peter shook his head her tongue ran on without waiting +for him to reply. "Cresty and his wife always insist upon having +a piece of Snake skin in their nest," said she. "Why they want +it, goodness knows! But they do want it and never can seem to +settle down to housekeeping unless they have it. Perhaps they +think it will scare robbers away. As for me, I should have a cold +chill every time I got into my nest if I had to sit on anything +like that. I have to admit that Cresty and his wife are a +handsome couple, and they certainly have good sense in choosing a +house, more sense than any other member of their family to my way +of thinking. But Snake skins! Ugh!" + +"By the way, where does Cresty build?" asked Peter. + +"In a hole in a tree, like the rest of us sensible people," +retorted Jenny Wren promptly. + +Peter looked quite as surprised as he felt. "Does Cresty make the +hole?" he asked. + +"Goodness gracious, no!" exclaimed Jenny Wren. "Where are your +eyes, Peter? Did you ever see a Flycatcher with a bill that +looked as if it could cut wood?" She didn't wait for a reply, but +rattled on. "It is a good thing for a lot of us that the +Woodpecker family are so fond of new houses. Look! There is Downy +the Woodpecker hard at work on a new house this very minute. +That's good. I like to see that. It means that next year there +will be one more house for some one here in the Old Orchard. +For myself I prefer old houses. I've noticed there are a number +of my neighbors who feel the same way about it. There is something +settled about an old house. It doesn't attract attention the way +a new one does. So long as it has got reasonably good walls, and +the rain and the wind can't get in, the older it is the better it +suits me. But the Woodpeckers seem to like new houses best, +which, as I said before, is a very good thing for the rest of +us." + +"Who is there besides you and Cresty and Bully the English +Sparrow who uses these old Woodpecker houses?" asked Peter. + +"Winsome Bluebird, stupid!" snapped Jenny Wren. + +Peter grinned and looked foolish. "Of course," said he. "I forgot +all about Winsome." + +"And Skimmer the Tree Swallow," added Jenny. + +"That's so; I ought to have remembered him," exclaimed Peter. +"I've noticed that he is very fond of the same house year after +year. Is there anybody else?" + +Again Jenny Wren nodded. "Yank-Yank the Nuthatch uses an old +house, I'm told, but he usually goes up North for his nesting," +said she. "Tommy Tit the Chickadee sometimes uses an old house. +Then again he and Mrs. Chickadee get fussy and make a house for +themselves. Yellow Wing the flicker, who really is a Woodpecker, +often uses an old house, but quite often makes a new one. Then +there are Killy the Sparrow Hawk and Spooky the Screech Owl." + +Peter looked surprised. "I didn't suppose THEY nested in holes in +trees!" he exclaimed. + +"They certainly do, more's the pity!" snapped Jenny. "It would be +a good thing for the rest of us if they didn't nest at all. But +they do, and an old house of Yellow Wing the Flicker suits either +of them. Killy always uses one that is high up, and comes back to +it year after year. Spooky isn't particular so long as the house +is big enough to be comfortable. He lives in it more or less the +year around. Now I must get back to those eggs of mine. I've +talked quite enough for one morning." + +"Oh, Jenny," cried Peter, as a sudden thought struck him. + +Jenny paused and jerked her tail impatiently. "Well, what is it +now?" she demanded. + +"Have you got two homes?" asked Peter. + +"Goodness gracious, no!" exclaimed Jenny. "What do you suppose I +want of two homes? One is all I can take care of." + +"Then why," demanded Peter triumphantly, "does Mr. Wren work all +day carrying sticks and straws into a hole in another tree? It +seems to me that he has carried enough in there to build two or +three nests." + +Jenny Wren's eyes twinkled, and she laughed softly. "Mr. Wren +just has to be busy about something, bless his heart," said she. +"He hasn't a lazy feather on him. He's building that nest to take +up his time and keep out of mischief. Besides, if he fills that +hollow up nobody else will take it, and you know we might want to +move some time. Good-by, Peter." With a final jerk of her tail +Jenny Wren flew to the little round doorway of her house and +popped inside. + + + +CHAPTER IX Longbill and Teeter. + +>From the decided way in which Jenny Wren had popped into the +little round doorway of her home, Peter knew that to wait in the +hope of more gossip with her would be a waste of time. He wasn't +ready to go back home to the dear Old Briar-patch, yet there +seemed nothing else to do, for everybody in the Old Orchard was +too busy for idle gossip. Peter scratched a long ear with a long +hind foot, trying to think of some place to go. Just then he +heard the clear "peep, peep, peep" of the Hylas, the sweet +singers of the Smiling Pool. + +"That's where I'll go!" exclaimed Peter. "I haven't been to the +Smiling Pool for some time. I'll just run over and pay my +respects to Grandfather Frog, and to Redwing the Blackbird. +Redwing was one of the first birds to arrive, and I've neglected +him shamefully." + +When Peter thinks of something to do he wastes no time. Off he +started, lipperty-lipperty-lip, for the Smiling Pool. He kept +close to the edge of the Green Forest until he reached the place +where the Laughing Brook comes out of the Green Forest on its way +to the Smiling Pool in the Green Meadows. Bushes and young trees +grow along the banks of the Laughing Brook at this point. The +ground was soft in places, quite muddy. Peter doesn't mind +getting his feet damp, so he hopped along carelessly. From +right under his very nose something shot up into the air with a +whistling sound. It startled Peter so that he stopped short with +his eyes popping out of his head. He had just a glimpse of a +brown form disappearing over the tops of some tall bushes. Then +Peter chuckled. "I declare," said he, "I had forgotten all about +my old friend, Longbill the Woodcock. He scared me for a second." + +"Then you are even," said a voice close at hand. "You scared him. +I saw you coming, but Longbill didn't." + +Peter turned quickly. There was Mrs. Woodcock peeping at him from +behind a tussock of grass. + +"I didn't mean to scare him," apologized Peter. "I really didn't +mean to. Do you think he was really very much scared?" + +"Not too scared to come back, anyway," said Longbill himself, +dropping down just in front of Peter. "I recognized you just as I +was disappearing over the tops of the bushes, so I came right +back. I learned when I was very young that when startled it is +best to fly first and find out afterwards whether or not there is +real danger. I am glad it is no one but you, Peter, for I was +having a splendid meal here, and I should have hated to leave it. +You'll excuse me while I go on eating, I hope. We can talk +between bites." + +"Certainly I'll excuse you," replied Peter, staring around very +hard to see what it could be Longbill was making such a good meal +of. But Peter couldn't se a thing that looked good to eat. There +wasn't even a bug or a worm crawling on the ground. Longbill took +two or three steps in rather a stately fashion. Peter had to hide +a smile, for Longbill had such an air of importance, yet at the +same time was such an odd looking fellow. He was quite a little +bigger than Welcome Robin, his tail was short, his legs were +short, and his neck was short. But his bill was long enough +to make up. His back was a mixture of gray, brown, black and +buff, while his breast and under parts were a beautiful +reddish-buff. It was his head that made him look queer. His eyes +were very big and they were set so far back that Peter wondered +if it wasn't easier for him to look behind him than in front of +him. + +Suddenly Longbill plunged his bill into the ground. He plunged it +in for the whole length. Then he pulled it out and Peter caught a +glimpse of the tail end of a worm disappearing down Longbill's +throat. Where that long bill had gone into the ground was a neat +little round hole. For the first time Peter noticed that there +were many such little round holes all about. "Did you make all +those little round holes?" exclaimed Peter. + +"Not at all," replied Longbill. "Mrs. Woodcock made some of +them." + +"And was there a worm in every one?" asked Peter, his eyes very +wide with interest. + +Longbill nodded. "Of course," said he. "You don't suppose we +would take the trouble to bore one of them if we didn't know that +we would get a worm at the end of it, do you?" + +Peter remembered how he had watched Welcome Robin listen and then +suddenly plunge his bill into the ground and pull out a worm. But +the worms Welcome Robin got were always close to the surface, +while these worms were so deep in the earth that Peter couldn't +understand how it was possible for any one to know that they were +there. Welcome Robin could see when he got hold of a worm, but +Longbill couldn't. "Even if you know there is a worm down there +in the ground, how do you know when you've reached him? And how +is it possible for you to open your bill down there to take him +in?" asked Peter. + +Longbill chuckled. "That's easy," said he. "I've got the handiest +bill that ever was. See here!" Longbill suddenly thrust his bill +straight out in front of him and to Peter's astonishment he +lifted the end of the upper half without opening the rest of his +bill at all. "That's the way I get them," said he. "I can feel +them when I reach them, and then I just open the top of my bill +and grab them. I think there is one right under my feet now; +watch me get him." Longbill bored into the ground until his head +was almost against it. When he pulled his bill out, sure enough, +there was a worm. "Of course," explained Longbill, "it is only in +soft ground that I can do this. That is why I have to fly away +south as soon as the ground freezes at all." + +"It's wonderful," sighed Peter. "I don't suppose any one else can +find hidden worms that way." + +"My cousin, Jack Snipe, can," replied Longbill promptly. "He +feeds the same way I do, only he likes marshy meadows instead of +brushy swamps. Perhaps you know him." + +Peter nodded. "I do," said he. "Now you speak of it, there is a +strong family resemblance, although I hadn't thought of him as a +relative of yours before. Now I must be running along. I'm ever +so glad to have seen you, and I'm coming over to call again the +first chance I get." + +So Peter said good-by and kept on down the Laughing Brook to the +Smiling Pool. Right where the Laughing Brook entered the Smiling +Pool there was a little pebbly beach. Running along the very edge +of the water was a slim, trim little bird with fairly long legs, +a long slender bill, brownish-gray back with black spots and +markings, and a white waistcoat neatly spotted with black. Every +few steps he would stop to pick up something, then stand for a +second bobbing up and down in the funniest way, as if his body +was so nicely balanced on his legs that it teetered back and +forth like a seesaw. It was Teeter the Spotted Sandpiper, an old +friend of Peter's. Peter greeted him joyously. + +"Peet-weet! Peet-weet!" cried Teeter, turning towards Peter and +bobbing and bowing as only Teeter can. Before Peter could say +another word Teeter came running towards him, and it was plain to +see that Teeter was very anxious about something. "Don't move, +Peter Rabbit! Don't move!" he cried. + +"Why not?" demanded Peter, for he could see no danger and could +think of no reason why he shouldn't move. Just then Mrs. Teeter +came hurrying up and squatted down in the sand right in front of +Peter. + +"Thank goodness!" exclaimed Teeter, still bobbing and bowing. "If +you had taken another step, Peter Rabbit, you would have stepped +right on our eggs. You gave me a dreadful start." + +Peter was puzzled. He showed it as he stared down at Mrs. Teeter +just in front of him. "I don't see any nest or eggs or anything," +said he rather testily. + +Mrs. Teeter stood up and stepped aside. Then Peter saw right in a +little hollow in the sand, with just a few bits of grass for a +lining, four white eggs with big dark blotches on them. They +looked so much like the surrounding pebbles that he never would +have seen them in the world but for Mrs. Teeter. Peter hastily +backed away a few steps. Mrs. Teeter slipped back on the eggs and +settled herself comfortably. It suddenly struck Peter that if he +hadn't seen her do it, he wouldn't have known she was there. You +see she looked so much like her surroundings that he never would +have noticed her at all. + +"My!" he exclaimed. "I certainly would have stepped on those eggs +if you hadn't warned me," said he. "I'm so thankful I didn't. I +don't see how you dare lay them in the open like this." + +Mrs. Teeter chuckled softly. "It's the safest place in the world, +Peter," said she. "They look so much like these pebbles around +here that no one sees them. The only time they are in danger is +when somebody comes along, as you did, and is likely to step on +them without seeing them. But that doesn't happen often." + + + +CHAPTER X Redwing and Yellow Wing. + +Peter had come over to the Smiling Pool especially to pay his +respects to Redwing the Blackbird, so as soon as he could, +without being impolite, he left Mrs. Teeter sitting on her eggs, +and Teeter himself bobbing and bowing in the friendliest way, and +hurried over to where the bulrushes grow. In the very top of the +Big Hickory-tree, a little farther along on the bank of the +Smiling Pool, sat some one who at that distance appeared to be +dressed all in black. He was singing as if there were nothing but +joy in all the great world. "Quong-ka-reee! Quong-ka-reee! +Quong-ka-reee!" he sang. Peter would have known from this song +alone that it was Redwing the Blackbird, for there is no other +song quite like it. + +As soon as Peter appeared in sight Redwing left his high perch +and flew down to light among the broken-down bulrushes. As he +flew, Peter saw the beautiful red patch on the bend of each wing, +from which Redwing gets his name. "No one could ever mistake him +for anybody else," thought Peter, "For there isn't anybody else +with such beautiful shoulder patches." + +"What's the news, Peter Rabbit?" cried Redwing, coming over to +sit very near Peter. + +"There isn't much," replied Peter, "excepting that Teeter the +Sandpiper has four eggs just a little way from here." + +Redwing chuckled. "That is no news, Peter," said he. "Do you +suppose that I live neighbor to Teeter and don't know where his +nest is and all about his affairs? There isn't much going on +around the Smiling Pool that I don't know, I can tell you that." + +Peter looked a little disappointed, because there is nothing he +likes better than to be the bearer of news. "I suppose," said he +politely, "that you will be building a nest pretty soon yourself, +Redwing." + +Redwing chuckled softly. It was a happy, contented sort of +chuckle. "No, Peter," said he. "I am not going to build a nest." + +"What?" exclaimed Peter, and his two long ears stood straight up +with astonishment. + +"No," replied Redwing, still chuckling. "I'm not going to build a +nest, and if you want to know a little secret, we have four as +pretty eggs as ever were laid." + +Peter fairly bubbled over with interest and curiosity. "How +splendid!" he cried. "Where is your nest, Redwing? I would just +love to see it. I suppose it is because she is sitting on those +eggs that I haven't seen Mrs. Redwing. It was very stupid of me +not to guess that folks who come as early as you do would be +among the first to build a home. Where is it, Redwing? Do tell +me." + +Redwing's eyes twinkled. + "A secret which is known by three + Full soon will not a secret be," +said he. "It isn't that I don't trust you, Peter. I know that you +wouldn't intentionally let my secret slip out. But you might do +it by accident. What you don't know, you can't tell." + +"That's right, Redwing. I am glad you have so much sense," said +another voice, and Mrs. Redwing alighted very near to Redwing. + +Peter couldn't help thinking that Old Mother Nature had been very +unfair indeed in dressing Mrs. Redwing. She was, if anything, a +little bit smaller than her handsome husband, and such a plain, +not to say homely, little body that it was hard work to realize +that she was a Blackbird at all. In the first place she wasn't +black. She was dressed all over in grayish-brown with streaks of +darker brown which in places were almost black. She wore no +bright-colored shoulder patches. In fact, there wasn't a bright +feather on her anywhere. Peter wanted to ask why it was that she +was so plainly dressed, but he was too polite and decided to wait +until he should see Jenny Wren. She would be sure to know. +Instead, he exclaimed, "How do you do, Mrs. Redwing? I'm ever so +glad to see you. I was wondering where you were. Where did you +come from?" + +"Straight from my home," replied Mrs. Redwing demurely. "And if I +do say it, it is the best home we've ever had." + +Redwing chuckled. He was full of chuckles. You see, he had +noticed how eagerly Peter was looking everywhere. + +"This much I will tell you, Peter," said Redwing; "our nest is +somewhere in these bulrushes, and if you can find it we won't say +a word, even if you don't keep the secret." + +Then Redwing chuckled again and Mrs. Redwing chuckled with him. +You see, they knew that Peter doesn't like water, and that nest +was hidden in a certain clump of brown, broken-down rushes, with +water all around. Suddenly Redwing flew up in the air with a +harsh cry. "Run, Peter! Run!" he screamed. "Here comes Reddy +Fox!" + +Peter didn't wait for a second warning. He knew by the sound of +Redwing's voice that Redwing wasn't joking. There was just one +place of safety, and that was an old hole of Grandfather Chuck's +between the roots of the Big Hickory-tree. Peter didn't waste any +time getting there, and he was none too soon, for Reddy was so +close at his heels that he pulled some white hairs out of Peter's +tail as Peter plunged headfirst down that hole. It was a lucky +thing for Peter that that hole was too small for Reddy to follow +and the roots prevented Reddy from digging it any bigger. + +For a long time Peter sat in Grandfather Chuck's old house, +wondering how soon it would be safe for him to come out. For a +while he heard Mr. and Mrs. Redwing scolding sharply, and by this +he knew that Reddy Fox was still about. By and by they stopped +scolding, and a few minutes later he heard Redwing's happy song. +"That means," thought Peter, "that Reddy Fox has gone away, but I +think I'll sit here a while longer to make sure." + +Now Peter was sitting right under the Big Hickory-tree. After a +while he began to hear faint little sounds, little taps, and +scratching sounds as of claws. They seemed to come from right +over his head, but he knew that there was no one in that hole but +himself. He couldn't understand it at all. + +Finally Peter decided it would be safe to peek outside. Very +carefully he poked his head out. Just as he did so, a little chip +struck him right on the nose. Peter pulled his head back +hurriedly and stared at the little chip which lay just in front +of the hole. Then two or three more little chips fell. Peter knew +that they must come from up in the Big Hickory-tree, and right +away his curiosity was aroused. Redwing was singing so happily +that Peter felt sure no danger was near, so he hopped outside and +looked up to find out where those little chips had come from. +Just a few feet above his head he saw a round hole in the trunk +of the Big Hickory-tree. While he was looking at it, a head with a +long stout bill was thrust out and in that bill were two or three +little chips. Peter's heart gave a little jump of glad surprise. + +"Yellow Wing!" he cried. "My goodness, how you startled me!" + +The chips were dropped and the head was thrust farther out. The +sides and throat were a soft reddish-tan and on each side at the +beginning of the bill was a black patch. The top of the head was +gray and just at the back was a little band of bright red. There +was no mistaking that head. It belonged to Yellow Wing the +Flicker beyond a doubt. + +"Hello, Peter!" exclaimed Yellow Wing, his eyes twinkling. "What +are you doing here?" + +"Nothing," replied Peter, "but I want to know what you are doing. +What are all those chips?" + +"I'm fixing up this old house of mine," replied Yellow Wing +promptly. "It wasn't quite deep enough to suit me, so I am making +it a little deeper. Mrs. Yellow Wing and I haven't been able to +find another house to suit us, so we have decided to live here +again this year." He came wholly out and flew down on the ground +near Peter. When his wings were spread, Peter saw that on the +under sides they were a beautiful golden-yellow, as were the +under sides of his tail feathers. Around his throat was a broad, +black collar. From this, clear to his tail, were black dots. When +his wings were spread, the upper part of his body just above the +tail was pure white. + +"My," exclaimed Peter, "you are a handsome fellow! I never +realized before how handsome you are." + +Yellow Wing looked pleased. Perhaps he felt a little flattered. +"I am glad you think so, Peter," said he. "I am rather proud of +my suit, myself. I don't know of any member of my family with +whom I would change coats." + +A sudden thought struck Peter. "What family do you belong to?" He +asked abruptly. + +"The Woodpecker family," replied Yellow Wing proudly. + + + +CHAPTER XI Drummers and Carpenters. + +Peter Rabbit was so full of questions that he hardly knew which +one to ask first. But Yellow Wing the Flicker didn't give him a +chance to ask any. From the edge of the Green forest there came a +clear, loud call of, "Pe-ok! Pe-ok! Pe-ok!" + +"Excuse me, Peter, there's Mrs. Yellow Wing calling me," +exclaimed Yellow Wing, and away he went. Peter noticed that as he +flew he went up and down. It seemed very much as if he bounded +through the air just as Peter bounds over the ground. "I would +know him by the way he flies just as far as I could see him," +thought Peter, as he started for home in the dear Old +Briar-patch. "Somehow he doesn't seem like a Woodpecker because +he is on the ground so much. I must ask Jenny Wren about him." + +It was two or three days before Peter had a chance for a bit of +gossip with Jenny Wren. When he did the first thing he asked was +if Yellow Wing is a true Woodpecker. + +"Certainly he is," replied Jenny Wren. "Of course he is. Why +under the sun should you think he isn't?" + +"Because it seems to me he is on the ground more than he's in the +trees," retorted Peter. "I don't know any other Woodpeckers who +come down on the ground at all." + +"Tut, tut, tut, tut!" scolded Jenny. "Think a minute, Peter! +Think a minute! Haven't you ever seen Redhead on the ground?" + +Peter blinked his eyes. "Ye-e-s," he said slowly. "Come to think +of it, I have. I've seen him picking up beechnuts in the fall. +The Woodpeckers are a funny family. I don't understand them." + +Just then a long, rolling rat-a-tat-tat rang out just over their +heads. "There's another one of them," chuckled Jenny. "That's +Downy, the smallest of the whole family. He certainly makes an +awful racket for such a little fellow. He is a splendid drummer +and he's just as good a carpenter. He made the very house I am +occupying now." + +Peter was sitting with his head tipped back trying to see Downy. +At first he couldn't make him out. Then he caught a little +movement on top of a dead limb. It was Downy's head flying back +and forth as he beat his long roll. He was dressed all in black +and white. On the back of his head was a little scarlet patch. He +was making a tremendous racket for such a little chap, only a +little bigger than one of the Sparrow family. + +"Is he making a hole for a nest up there?" asked Peter eagerly. + +"Gracious, Peter, what a question! What a perfectly silly +question!" exclaimed Jenny Wren scornfully. "Do give us birds +credit for a little common sense. If he were cutting a hole for a +nest, everybody within hearing would know just where to look for +it. Downy has too much sense in that little head of his to do +such a silly thing as that. When he cuts a hole for a nest he +doesn't make any more noise than is absolutely necessary. You +don't see any chips flying, do you?" + +"No-o," replied Peter slowly. "Now you speak of it, I don't. Is-- +is he hunting for worms in the wood?" + +Jenny laughed right out. "Hardly, Peter, hardly," said she. "He's +just drumming, that's all. That hollow limb makes the best kind +of a drum and Downy is making the most of it. Just listen to +that! There isn't a better drummer anywhere." + +But Peter wasn't satisfied. Finally he ventured another question. +"What's he doing it for?" + +"Good land, Peter!" cried Jenny. "What do you run and jump for in +the spring? What is Mr. Wren singing for over there? Downy is +drumming for precisely the same reason--happiness. He can't run +and jump and he can't sing, but he can drum. By the way, do you +know that Downy is one of the most useful birds in the Old +Orchard?" + +Just then Downy flew away, but hardly had he disappeared when +another drummer took his place. At first Peter thought Downy had +returned until he noticed that the newcomer was just a bit bigger +than Downy. Jenny Wren's sharp eyes spied him at once. + +"Hello!" she exclaimed. "There's Hairy. Did you ever see two +cousins look more alike? If it were not that Hairy is bigger than +Downy it would be hard work to tell them apart. Do you see any +other difference, Peter?" + +Peter stared and blinked and stared again, then slowly shook his +head. "No," he confessed, "I don't." + +"That shows you haven't learned to use your eyes, Peter," said +Jenny rather sharply. "Look at the outside feathers of his tail; +they are all white. Downy's outside tail feathers have little +bars of black. Hairy is just as good a carpenter as is Downy, but +for that matter I don't know of a member of the Woodpecker family +who isn't a good carpenter. Where did you say Yellow Wing the +Flicker is making his home this year?" + +"Over in the Big Hickory-tree by the Smiling Pool," replied +Peter. "I don't understand yet why Yellow Wing spends so much +time on the ground." + +"Ants," replied Jenny Wren. "Just ants. He's as fond of ants as +is Old Mr. Toad, and that is saying a great deal. If Yellow Wing +keeps on he'll become a ground bird instead of a tree bird. He +gets more than half his living on the ground now. Speaking of +drumming, did you ever hear Yellow Wing drum on a tin roof?" + +Peter shook his head. + +"Well, if there's a tin roof anywhere around, and Yellow Wing can +find it, he will be perfectly happy. He certainly does love to +make a noise, and tin makes the finest kind of a drum." + +Just then Jenny was interrupted by the arrival, on the trunk of +the very next tree to the one on which she was sitting, of a bird +about the size of Sammy Jay. His whole head and neck were a +beautiful, deep red. His breast was pure white, and his back was +black to nearly the beginning of his tail, where it was white. + +"Hello, Redhead!" exclaimed Jenny Wren. "How did you know we were +talking about your family?" + +"Hello, chatterbox," retorted Redhead with a twinkle in his eyes. +"I didn't know you were talking about my family, but I could have +guessed that you were talking about some one's family. Does your +tongue ever stop, Jenny?" + +Jenny Wren started to become indignant and scold, then thought +better of it. "I was talking for Peter's benefit," said she, +trying to look dignified, a thing quite impossible for any member +of the Wren family to do. "Peter has always had the idea that +true Woodpeckers never go down on the ground. I was explaining to +him that Yellow Wing is a true Woodpecker, yet spends half his +time on the ground." + +Redhead nodded. "It's all on account of ants," said he. "I don't +know of any one quite so fond of ants unless it is Old Mr. Toad. +I like a few of them myself, but Yellow Wing just about lives on +them when he can. You may have noticed that I go down on the +ground myself once in a while. I am rather fond of beetles, and +an occasional grasshopper tastes very good to me. I like a +variety. Yes, sir, I certainly do like a variety--cherries, +blackberries, raspberries, strawberries, grapes. In fact most +kinds of fruit taste good to me, not to mention beechnuts and +acorns when there is no fruit." + +Jenny Wren tossed her head. "You didn't mention the eggs of some +of your neighbors," said she sharply. + +Redhead did his best to look innocent, but Peter noticed that he +gave a guilty start and very abruptly changed the subject, and a +moment later flew away. + +"Is it true," asked Peter, "that Redhead does such a dreadful +thing?" + +Jenny bobbed her head rapidly and jerked her tail. "So I an +told," said she. "I've never seen him do it, but I know others +who have. They say he is no better than Sammy Jay or Blacky the +Crow. But gracious, goodness! I can't sit here gossiping +forever." Jenny twitched her funny little tail, snapped her +bright eyes at Peter, and disappeared in her house. + + + +CHAPTER XII Some Unlikely Relatives. + +Having other things to attend to, or rather having other things +to arouse his curiosity, Peter Rabbit did not visit the Old +Orchard for several days. When he did it was to find the entire +neighborhood quite upset. There was an indignation meeting in +progress in and around the tree in which Chebec and his modest +little wife had their home. How the tongues did clatter! Peter +knew that something had happened, but though he listened with all +his might he couldn't make head or tail of it. + +Finally Peter managed to get the attention of Jenny Wren. "What's +happened?" demanded Peter. "What's all this fuss about?" + +Jenny Wren was so excited that she couldn't keep still an +instant. Her sharp little eyes snapped and her tail was carried +higher than ever. "It's a disgrace! It's a disgrace to the whole +feathered race, and something ought to be done about it!" +sputtered Jenny. "I'm ashamed to think that such a contemptible +creature wears feathers! I am so!" + +"But what's it all about?" demanded Peter impatiently. "Do keep +still long enough to tell me. Who is this contemptible creature?" + +"Sally Sly," snapped Jenny Wren. "Sally Sly the Cowbird. I hoped +she wouldn't disgrace the Old Orchard this year, but she has. +When Mr. and Mrs. Chebec returned from getting their breakfast +this morning they found one of Sally Sly's eggs in their nest. +They are terribly upset, and I don't blame them. If I were in +their place I simply would throw that egg out. That's what I'd +do, I'd throw that egg out!" + +Peter was puzzled. He blinked his eyes and stroked his whiskers +as he tried to understand what it all meant. "Who is Sally Sly, +and what did she do that for?" he finally ventured. + +"For goodness' sake, Peter Rabbit, do you mean to tell me you +don't know who Sally Sly is?" Then without waiting for Peter to +reply, Jenny rattled on. "She's a member of the Blackbird family +and she's the laziest, most good-for-nothing, sneakiest, most +unfeeling and most selfish wretch I know of!" Jenny paused long +enough to get her breath. "She laid that egg in Chebec's nest +because she is too lazy to build a nest of her own and too +selfish to take care of her own children. Do you know what will +happen, Peter Rabbit? Do you know what will happen?" + +Peter shook his head and confessed that he didn't. "When that egg +hatches out, that young Cowbird will be about twice as big as +Chebec's own children," sputtered Jenny. "He'll be so big that +he'll get most of the food. He'll just rob those little Chebecs +in spite of all their mother and father can do. And Chebec and +his wife will be just soft-hearted enough to work themselves to +skin and bone to feed the young wretch because he is an orphan +and hasn't anybody to look after him. The worst of it is, Sally +Sly is likely to play the same trick on others. She always +chooses the nest of some one smaller than herself. She's terribly +sly. No one has seen her about. She just sneaked into the Old +Orchard this morning when everybody was busy, laid that egg and +sneaked out again." + +"Did you say that she is a member of the Blackbird family?" asked +Peter. + +Jenny Wren nodded vigorously. "That's what she is," said she. +"Thank goodness, she isn't a member of MY family. If she were I +never would be able to hold my head up. Just listen to Goldy the +Oriole over in that big elm. I don't see how he can sing like +that, knowing that one of his relatives has just done such a +shameful deed. It's a queer thing that there can be two members +of the same family so unlike. Mrs. Goldy builds one of the most +wonderful nests of any one I know, and Sally Sly is too lazy to +build any. If I were in Goldy's place I--" + +"Hold on!" cried Peter. "I thought you said Sally Sly is a member +of the Blackbird family. I don't see what she's got to do with +Goldy the Oriole." + +"You don't, eh?" exclaimed Jenny. "Well, for one who pokes into +other people's affairs as you do, you don't know much. The +Orioles and the Meadow Larks and the Grackles and the Bobolinks +all belong to the Blackbird family. They're all related to +Redwing the Blackbird, and Sally Sly the Cowbird belongs in the +same family." + +Peter gasped. "I--I-- hadn't the least idea that any of these +folks were related," stammered Peter. + +"Well, they are," retorted Jenny Wren. "As I live, there's Sally +Sly now!" + +Peter caught a glimpse of a brownish-gray bird who reminded him +somewhat of Mrs. Redwing. She was about the same size and looked +very much like her. It was plain that she was trying to keep out +of sight, and the instant she knew that she had been discovered +she flew away in the direction of the Old Pasture. It happened +that late that afternoon Peter visited the Old Pasture and saw +her again. She and some of her friends were busily walking about +close to the feet of the cows, where they seemed to be picking up +food. One had a brown head, neck and breast; the rest of his coat +was glossy black. Peter rightly guessed that this must be Mr. +Cowbird. Seeing them on such good terms with the cows he +understood why they are called Cowbirds. + +Sure that Sally Sly had left the Old Orchard, the feathered folks +settled down to their personal affairs and household cares, Jenny +Wren among them. Having no one to talk to, Peter found a shady +place close to the old stone wall and there sat down to think +over the surprising things he had learned. Presently Goldy the +Baltimore Oriole alighted in the nearest apple-tree, and it +seemed to Peter that never had he seen any one more beautifully +dressed. His head, neck, throat and upper part of his back were +black. The lower part of his back and his breast were a beautiful +deep orange color. There was a dash of orange on his shoulders, +but the rest of his wings were black with an edging of white. His +tail was black and orange. Peter had heard him called the +Firebird, and now he understood why. His song was quite as rich +and beautiful as his coat. + +Shortly he was joined by Mrs. Goldy. Compared with her handsome +husband she was very modestly dressed. She wore more brown than +black, and where the orange color appeared it was rather dull. +She wasted no time in singing. Almost instantly her sharp eyes +spied a piece of string caught in the bushes almost over Peter's +head. With a little cry of delight she flew down and seized it. +But the string was caught, and though she tugged and pulled with +all her might she couldn't get it free. Goldy saw the trouble +she was having and cutting his song short, flew down to help +her. Together they pulled and tugged and tugged and pulled, until +they had to stop to rest and get their breath. + +"We simply must have this piece of string," said Mrs. Goldy. +"I've been hunting everywhere for a piece, and this is the first +I've found. It is just what we need to bind our nest fast to the +twigs. With this I won't have the least bit of fear that that +nest will ever tear loose, no matter how hard the wind blows." + +Once more they tugged and pulled and pulled and tugged until at +last they got it free, and Mrs. Goldy flew away in triumph with +the string in her bill. Goldy himself followed. Peter watched +them fly to the top of a long, swaying branch of a big elm-tree +up near Farmer Brown's house. He could see something which looked +like a bag hanging there, and he knew that this must be the nest. + +"Gracious!" said Peter. "They must get terribly tossed about when +the wind blows. I should think their babies would be thrown out." + +"Don't you worry about them," said a voice. + +Peter looked up to find Welcome Robin just over him. "Mrs. Goldy +makes one of the most wonderful nests I know of," continued +Welcome Robin. "It is like a deep pocket made of grass, string, +hair and bark, all woven together like a piece of cloth. It is so +deep that it is quite safe for the babies, and they seem to enjoy +being rocked by the wind. I shouldn't care for it myself because +I like a solid foundation for my home, but the Goldies like it. +It looks dangerous but it really is one of the safest nests I +know of. Snakes and cats never get 'way up there and there are +few feathered nest-robbers who can get at those eggs so deep down +in the nest. Goldy is sometimes called Golden Robin. He isn't a +Robin at all, but I would feel very proud if he were a member of +my family. He's just as useful as he is handsome, and that's +saying a great deal. He just dotes on caterpillars. There's Mrs. +Robin calling me. Good-by, Peter." + +With this Welcome Robin flew away and Peter once more settled +himself to think over all he had learned. + + + +CHAPTER XIII More of the Blackbird Family. + +Peter Rabbit was dozing. Yes, sir, Peter was dozing. He didn't +mean to doze, but whenever Peter sits still for a long time and +tries to think, he is pretty sure to go to sleep. By and by he +wakened with a start. At first he didn't know what had wakened +him, but as he sat there blinking his eyes, he heard a few +rich notes from the top of the nearest apple-tree. "It's Goldy +the Oriole," thought Peter, and peeped out to see. + +But though he looked and looked he couldn't see Goldy anywhere, +but he did see a stranger. It was some one of about Goldy's size +and shape. In fact he was so like Goldy, but for the color of his +suit, that at first Peter almost thought Goldy had somehow changed his clothes. +Of course he knew that this couldn't be, but +it seemed as if it must be, for the song the stranger was singing +was something like that of Goldy. The stranger's head and throat +and back were black, just like Goldy's, and his wings were +trimmed with white in just the same way. But the rest of his +suit, instead of being the beautiful orange of which Goldy is so +proud, was a beautiful chestnut color. + +Peter blinked and stared very hard. "Now who can this be?" said +he, speaking aloud without thinking. + +"Don't you know him?" asked a sharp voice so close to Peter that +it made him jump. Peter whirled around. There sat Striped +Chipmunk grinning at him from the top of the old stone wall. +"That's Weaver the Orchard Oriole," Striped Chipmunk rattled on. +"If you don't know him you ought to, because he is one of the +very nicest persons in the Old Orchard. I just love to hear him +sing." + +"Is--is--he related to Goldy?" asked Peter somewhat doubtfully. + +"Of course," retorted Striped Chipmunk. "I shouldn't think you +would have to look at him more than once to know that. He's first +cousin to Goldy. There comes Mrs. Weaver. I do hope they've +decided to build in the Old Orchard this year." + +"I'm glad you told me who she is because I never would have +guessed it," confessed Peter as he studied the newcomer. She did +not look at all like Weaver. She was dressed in olive-green and +dull yellow, with white markings on her wings. + +Peter couldn't help thinking how much easier it must be for her +than for her handsome husband to hide among the green leaves. + +As he watched she flew down to the ground and picked up a long +piece of grass. "They are building here, as sure as you live!" +cried Striped Chipmunk. "I'm glad of that. Did you ever see +their nest, Peter? Of course you haven't, because you said you +had never seen them before. Their nest is a wonder, Peter. It +really is. It is made almost wholly of fine grass and they weave +it together in the most wonderful way." + +"Do they have a hanging nest like Goldy's?" asked Peter a bit +timidly. + +"Not such a deep one," replied Striped Chipmunk. "They hang it +between the twigs near the end of a branch, but they bind it more +closely to the branch and it isn't deep enough to swing as +Goldy's does." + +Peter had just opened his mouth to ask another question when +there was a loud sniffing sound farther up along the old stone +wall. He didn't wait to hear it again. He knew that Bowser the +Hound was coming. + +"Good-by, Striped Chipmunk! This is no place for me," whispered +Peter and started for the dear Old Briar-patch. He was in such a +hurry to get there that on his way across the Green Meadows he +almost ran into Jimmy Skunk before he saw him. + +"What's your hurry, Peter?" demanded Jimmy + +"Bowser the Hound almost found me up in the Old Orchard," panted +Peter. "It's a wonder he hasn't found my tracks. I expect he will +any minute. I'm glad to see you, Jimmy, but I guess I'd better be +moving along." + +"Don't be in such a hurry, Peter. Don't be in such a hurry," +replied Jimmy, who himself never hurries. "Stop and talk a bit. +That old nuisance won't bother you as long as you are with me." + +Peter hesitated. He wanted to gossip, but he still felt nervous +about Bowser the Hound. However, as he heard nothing of Bowser's +great voice, telling all the world that he had found Peter's +tracks, he decided to stop a few minutes. "What are you doing +down here on the Green Meadows?" he demanded. + +Jimmy grinned. "I'm looking for grasshoppers and grubs, if you +must know," said he. "And I've just got a notion I may find some +fresh eggs. I don't often eat them, but once in a while one +tastes good." + +"If you ask me, it's a funny place to be looking for eggs down +here on the Green Meadows," replied Peter. "When I want a thing; +I look for it where it is likely to be found." + +"Just so, Peter; just so," retorted Jimmy Skunk, nodding his +head with approval. "That's why I am here." + +Peter looked puzzled. He was puzzled. But before he could ask +another question a rollicking song caused both of them to look +up. There on quivering wings in mid-air was the singer. He was +dressed very much like Jimmy Skunk himself, in black and white, +save that in places the white had a tinge of yellow, especially +on the back of his neck. It was Bubbling Bob the Bobolink. And +how he did sing! It seemed as if the notes fairly tumbled over +each other. + +Jimmy Skunk raised himself on his hind-legs a little to see +just where Bubbling Bob dropped down in the grass. Then Jimmy +began to move in that direction. Suddenly Peter understood. He +remembered that Bubbling Bob's nest is always on the ground. +It was his eggs that Jimmy Skunk was looking for. + +"You don't happen to have seen Mrs. Bob anywhere around here, +do you, Peter?" asked Jimmy, trying to speak carelessly. + +"No," replied Peter. "If I had I wouldn't tell you where. You +ought to be ashamed, Jimmy Skunk, to think of robbing such a +beautiful singer as Bubbling Bob." + +"Pooh!" retorted Jimmy. "What's the harm? If I find those eggs +he and Mrs. Bob could simply build another nest and lay some +more. They won't be any the worse off, and I will have had a good +breakfast." + +"But think of all the work they would have to do to build another +nest," replied Peter. + +"I should worry," retorted Jimmy Skunk. "Any one who can spend so +much time singing can afford to do a little extra work." + +"You're horrid, Jimmy Skunk. You're just horrid," said Peter. "I +hope you won't find a single egg, so there!" + +With this, Peter once more headed for the dear Old Briar-patch, +while Jimmy Skunk continued toward the place where Bubbling Bob +had disappeared in the long grass. Peter went only a short +distance and then sat up to watch Jimmy Skunk. Just before Jimmy +reached the place where Bubbling Bob had disappeared, the latter +mounted into the air again, pouring out his rollicking song as if +there were no room in his heart for anything but happiness. Then +he saw Jimmy Shrunk and became very much excited. He flew down in +the grass a little farther on and then up again, and began to +scold. + +It looked very much as if he had gone down in the grass to warn +Mrs. Bob. Evidently Jimmy thought so, for he at once headed +that way. When Bubbling Bob did the same thing all over again. +Peter grew anxious. He knew just how patient Jimmy Skunk could +be, and he very much feared that Jimmy would find that nest. +Presently he grew tired of watching and started on for the dear +Old Briar-patch. Just before he reached it a brown bird, who +reminded him somewhat of Mrs. Redwing and Sally Sly the Cowbird, +though she was smaller, ran across the path in front of him and +then flew up to the top of a last year's mullein stalk. It was +Mrs. Bobolink. Peter knew her well, for he and she were very good +friends. + +"Oh!" cried Peter. "What are you doing here? Don't you know that +Jimmy Skunk, is hunting for your nest over there? Aren't you +worried to death? I would be if I were in your place." + +Mrs. Bob chuckled. "Isn't he a dear? And isn't he smart?" said +she, meaning Bubbling Bob, of course, and not Jimmy Skunk. "Just +see him lead that black-and-white robber away." + +Peter stared at her for a full minute. "Do you mean to say," +said he "that your nest isn't over there at all?" + +Mrs. Bob chuckled harder than ever. "Of course it isn't over +there," said she. + +"Then where is it?" demanded Peter. + +"That's telling," replied Mrs. Bob. "It isn't over there, and it +isn't anywhere near there. But where it is is Bob's secret and +mine, and we mean to keep it. Now I must go get something to +eat," and with a hasty farewell Mrs. Bobolink flew over to the +other side of the dear Old Briar-patch. + +Peter remembered that he had seen Mrs. Bob running along the +ground before she flew up to the old mullein stalk. He went back +to the spot where he had first seen her and hunted all around in +the grass, but without success. You see, Mrs. Bobolink had been +quite as clever in fooling Peter as Bubbling Bob had been in +fooling Jimmy Skunk. + + + +CHAPTER XIV Bob White and Carol the Meadow Lark. + +"Bob--Bob White! Bob--Bob White! Bob--Bob White!" clear and +sweet, that call floated over to the dear Old Briar-patch until +Peter could stand it no longer. He felt that he just had to go +over and pay an early morning call on one of his very best +friends, who at this season of the year delights in whistling +his own name--Bob White. + +"I suppose," muttered Peter, "that Bob White has got a nest. I +wish he would show it to me. He's terribly secretive about it. +Last year I hunted for his nest until my feet were sore, but it +wasn't the least bit of use. Then one morning I met Mrs. Bob +White with fifteen babies out for a walk. How she could hide a +nest with fifteen eggs in it is more than I can understand." + +Peter left the Old Briar-patch and started off over the Green +Meadows towards the Old Pasture. As he drew near the fence +between the Green Meadows and the Old Pasture he saw Bob White +sitting on one of the posts, whistling with all his might. On +another post near him sat another bird very near the size of +Welcome Robin. He also was telling all the world of his +happiness. It was Carol the Meadow Lark. + +Peter was so intent watching these two friends of his that he +took no heed to his footsteps. Suddenly there was a whirr from +almost under his very nose and he stopped short, so startled that +he almost squealed right out. In a second he recognized Mrs. +Meadow Lark. He watched her fly over to where Carol was singing. +Her stout little wings moved swiftly for a moment or two, then +she sailed on without moving them at all. Then they fluttered +rapidly again until she was flying fast enough to once more sail +on them outstretched. The white outer feathers of her tail +showed clearly and reminded Peter of the tail of Sweetvoice the +Vesper Sparrow, only of course it was ever so much bigger. + +Peter sat still until Mrs. Meadow Lark had alighted on the fence +near Carol. Then he prepared to hurry on, for he was anxious for +a bit of gossip with these good friends of his. But just before +he did this he just happened to glance down and there, almost at +his very feet, he caught sight of something that made him squeal +right out. It was a nest with four of the prettiest eggs Peter +ever had seen. They were white with brown spots all over them. +Had it not been for the eggs he never would have seen that nest, +never in the world. It was made of dry, brown grass and was +cunningly hidden is a little clump of dead grass which fell over +it so as to almost completely hide it. But the thing that +surprised Peter most was the clever way in which the approach to +it was hidden. It was by means of a regular little tunnel of +grass. + +"Oh!" cried Peter, and his eyes sparkled with pleasure. "This +must be the nest of Mrs. Meadow Lark. No wonder I have never been +able to find it, when I have looked for it. It is just luck and +nothing else that I have found it this time. I think it is +perfectly wonderful that Mrs. Meadow Lark can hide her home in +such a way. I do hope Jimmy Skunk isn't anywhere around." + +Peter sat up straight and anxiously looked this way and that way. +Jimmy Skunk was nowhere to be seen and Peter gave a little sigh +of relief. Very carefully he walked around that nest and its +little tunnel, then hurried over toward the fence as fast as he +could go. + +"It's perfectly beautiful, Carol!" he cried, just as soon as he +was near enough. "And I won't tell a single soul!" + +"I hope not. I certainly hope not," cried Mrs. Meadow Lark in an +anxious tone. "I never would have another single easy minute if I +thought you would tell a living soul about my nest. Promise that +you won't, Peter. Cross your heart and promise that you won't." + +Peter promptly crossed his heart and promised that he wouldn't +tell a single soul. Mrs. Meadow Lark seemed to feel better. Right +away she flew back and Peter turned to watch her. He saw her +disappear in the grass, but it wasn't where he had found the +nest. Peter waited a few minutes, thinking that he would see her +rise into the air again and fly over to the nest. But he waited +in vain. Then with a puzzled look on his face, he turned to look +up at Carol. + +Carol's eyes twinkled. "I know what you're thinking, Peter," he +chuckled. "You are thinking that it is funny Mrs. Meadow Lark +didn't go straight hack to our nest when she seemed so anxious +about it. I would have you to know that she is too clever to do +anything so foolish as that. She knows well enough that somebody +might see her and so find our secret. She has walked there from +the place where yon saw her disappear in the grass. That is the +way we always do when we go to our nest. One never can be too +careful these days." + +Then Carol began to pour out his happiness once more, quite as if +nothing had interrupted his song. + +Somehow Peter never before had realized how handsome Carol the +Meadow Lark was. As he faced Peter, the latter saw a beautiful +yellow throat and waistcoat, with a broad black crescent on his +breast. There was a yellow line above each eye. His back was of +brown with black markings. His sides were whitish, with spats and +streaks of black. The outer edges of his tail were white. +Altogether he was really handsome, far handsomer than one would +suspect, seeing him at a distance. + +Having found out Carol's secret, Peter was doubly anxious to find +Bob White's home, so he hurried over to the post where Bob was +whistling with all his might. "Bob!" cried Peter. "I've just +found Carol's nest and I've promised to keep it a secret. Won't +you show me your nest, too, if I'll promise to keep THAT a +secret?" + +Rob threw back his head and laughed joyously. "You ought to know, +Peter, by this time," said he, "that there are secrets never to +be told to anybody. My nest is one of these. If you find it, all +right; but I wouldn't show it to my very best friend, and I guess +I haven't any better friend than you, Peter." Then from sheer +happiness he whistled, "--Bob White! Bob--Bob White!" with all +his might. + +Peter was disappointed and a little put out. "I guess", said he, +"I could find it if I wanted to. I guess it isn't any better +hidden than Mrs. Meadow Lark's, and I found that. Some folks +aren't as smart as they think they are." + +Bob White, who is sometimes called Quail and sometimes called +Partridge, and who is neither, chuckled heartily. "Go ahead, old +Mr. Curiosity, go ahead and hunt all you please," said he. "It's +funny to me how some folks think themselves smart when the truth +is they simply have been lucky. You know well enough that you +just happened to find Carol's nest. If you happen to find mine, I +won't have a word to say." + +Bob White took a long breath, tipped his head back until his +bill was pointing right up in the blue, blue sky, and with all +his might whistled his name, "Bob--Bob White! Bob--Bob White!" + +As Peter looked at him it came over him that Bob White was the +plumpest bird of his acquaintance. He was so plump that his body +seemed almost round. The shortness of his tail added to this +effect, for Bob has a very short tail. The upper part of his coat +was a handsome reddish-brown with dark streaks and light edgings. +His sides and the upper part of his breast were of the same +handsome reddish-brown, while underneath he was whitish with +little bars of black. His throat was white, and above each eye +was a broad white stripe. His white throat was bordered with +black, and a band of black divided the throat from the white line +above each eye. The top of his head was mixed black and brown. +Altogether he was a handsome little fellow in a modest way. + +Suddenly Bob White stopped whistling and looked down at Peter +with a twinkle in his eye. "Why don't you go hunt for that nest, +Peter?" said he. + +"I'm going," replied Peter rather shortly, for he knew that Bob +knew that he hadn't the least idea where to look. It might be +somewhere on the Green Meadows or it might be in the Old Pasture; +Bob hadn't given the least hint. Peter had a feeling that the +nest wasn't far away and that it was on the Green Meadows, so he +began to hunt, running aimlessly this way and that way, all the +time feeling very foolish, for of course he knew that Bob White +was watching him and chuckling down inside. + +It was very warm down there on the Green Meadows, and Peter grew +hot and tired. He decided to run up in the Old Pasture in the +shade of an old bramble-tangle there. Just the other side of the +fence was a path made by the cows and often used by Farmer +Brown's boy and Reddy Fox and others who visited the Old Pasture. +Along this Peter scampered, lipperty-lipperty-lip, on his way to +the bramble-tangle. He didn't look either to right or left. It +didn't occur to him that there would be any use at all, for of +course no one would build a nest near a path where people passed +to and fro every day. + +And so it was that in his happy-go-lucky way Peter scampered +right past a clump of tall weeds close beside the path without +the least suspicion that cleverly hidden in it was the very thing +he was looking for. With laughter in her eyes, shrewd little +Mrs. Bob White, with sixteen white eggs under her, watched him +pass. She had chosen that very place for her nest because she +knew that it was the last place anyone would expect to find it. +The very fact that it seemed the most dangerous place she could +have chosen made it the safest. + + + +CHAPTER XV A Swallow and One Who Isn't. + +Johnny and Polly Chuck had made their home between the roots of +an old apple-tree in the far corner of the Old Orchard. You know +they have their bedroom way down in the ground, and it is reached +by a long hall. They had dug their home between the roots of that +old apple-tree because they had discovered that there was just +room enough between those spreading roots for them to pass in and +out, and there wasn't room to dig the entrance any larger. So +they felt quite safe from Reddy Fox; and Bowser the Hound, either +of whom would have delighted to dig them out but for those roots. + +Right in front of their doorway was a very nice doorstep of +shining sand where Johnny Chuck delighted to sit when he had a +full stomach and nothing else to do. Johnny's nearest neighbors +had made their home only about five feet above Johnny's head when +he sat up on his doorstep. They were Skimmer the Tree Swallow +and his trim little wife, and the doorway of their home was a +little round hole in the trunk of that apple-tree, a hole which +had been cut some years before by one of the Woodpeckers. + +Johnny and Skimmer were the best of friends. Johnny used to +delight in watching Skimmer dart out from beneath the branches of +the trees and wheel and turn and glide, now sometimes high in the +blue, blue sky, and again just skimming the tops of the grass, on +wings which seemed never to tire. But he liked still better the +bits of gossip when Skimmer would sit in his doorway and chat +about his neighbors of the Old Orchard and his adventures out in +the Great World during his long journeys to and from the far-away +South. + +To Johnny Chuck's way of thinking, there was no one quite so trim +and neat appearing as Skimmer with his snowy white breast and +blue-green back and wings. Two things Johnny always used to +wonder at, Skimmer's small bill and short legs. Finally he +ventured to ask Skimmer about them. + +"Gracious, Johnny!" exclaimed Skimmer. "I wouldn't have a big +bill for anything. I wouldn't know what to do with it; it would +be in the way. You see, I get nearly all my food in the air when +I am flying, mosquitoes and flies and all sorts of small insects +with wings. I don't have to pick them off trees and bushes or +from the ground and so I don't need any more of a bill than I +have. It's the same way with my legs. Have you ever seen me +walking on the ground?" + +Johnny thought a moment. "No," said he, "now you speak of it, I +never have." + +"And have you ever seen me hopping about in the branches of a +tree?" persisted Skimmer. + +Again Johnny Chuck admitted that he never had. + +"The only use I have for feet," continued Skimmer, "is for +perching while I rest. I don't need long legs for walking or +hopping about, so Mother Nature has made my legs very short. You +see I spend most of my time in the air." + +"I suppose it's the same with your cousin; Sooty the Chimney +Swallow," said Johnny. + +"That shows just how much some people know!" twittered Skimmer +indignantly. "The idea of calling Sooty a Swallow! The very idea! +I'd leave you to know, Johnny Chuck, that Sooty isn't even +related to me. He's a Swift, and not a Swallow." + +"He looks like a Swallow," protested Johnny Chuck. + +"He doesn't either. You just think he does because he happens to +spend most of his time in the air the way we Swallows do," +sputtered Skimmer. "The Swallow family never would admit such a +homely looking fellow as he is as a member. + +"Tut, tut, tut, tut! I do believe Skimmer is jealous," cried +Jenny Wren, who had happened along just in time to hear Skimmer's +last remarks. + +"Nothing of the sort," declared Skimmer, growing still more +indignant. "I'd like to know what there is about Sooty the +Chimney Swift that could possibly make a Swallow jealous." + +Jenny Wren cocked her tail up in that saucy way of hers and +winked at Johnny Chuck. "The way he can fly," said she softly. + +"The way he can fly!" sputtered Skimmer, "The way he can fly! +Why, there never was a day in his life that he could fly like a +Swallow. There isn't any one more graceful on the wing than I am, +if I do say so. And there isn't any one more ungraceful than +Sooty." + +Just then there was a shrill chatter overhead and all looked up +to see Sooty the Chimney Swift racing through the sky as if +having the very best time in the world. His wings would beat +furiously and then he would glide very much as you or I would on +skates. It was quite true that he wasn't graceful. But he could +twist and turn and cut up all sorts of antics, such as Skimmer +never dreamed of doing. + +"He can use first one wing and then the other, while you have to +use both wings at once," persisted Jenny Wren. "You couldn't, to +save your life, go straight down into a chimney, and you know it, +Skimmer. He can do things with his wings which yon can't do, nor +any other bird." + +"That may be true, but just the same I'm not the least teeny +weeny bit jealous of him," said Skimmer, and darted away to get +beyond the reach of Jenny's sharp tongue. + +"Is it really true that he and Sooty are not related?" asked +Johnny Chuck, as they watched Skimmer cutting airy circles high +up in the slay. + +Jenny nodded. "It's quite true, Johnny," said site. "Sooty +belongs to another family altogether. He's a funny fellow. Did +yon ever in your life see such narrow wings? And his tail is +hardly worth calling a tail." + +Johnny Chuck laughed. "Way up there in the air he looks almost +alike at both ends," said he. "Is he all black?" + +"He isn't black at all," declared Jenny. "He is sooty-brown, +rather grayish on the throat and breast. Speaking of that tail of +his, the feathers end in little, sharp, stiff points. He uses +them in the same way that Downy the Woodpecker uses his tail +feathers when he braces himself with them on the trunk of a +tree." + +"But I've never seen Sooty on the trunk of a tree," protested +Johnny Chuck. "In fact, I've never seen him anywhere but in the +air." + +"And you never will," snapped Jenny. "The only place he ever +alights is inside a chimney or inside a hollow tree. There he +clings to the side just as Downy the Woodpecker clings to the +trunk of a tree." + +Johnny looked as if he didn't quite believe this. "If that's the +case where does he nest?" he demanded. "And where does he sleep?" + +"In a chimney, stupid. In a chimney, of course," retorted Jenny +Wren. "He fastens his nest right to the inside of a chimney. He +makes a regular little basket of twigs and fastens it to the side +of the chimney." + +"Are you trying to stuff me with nonsense?" asked Johnny Chuck +indignantly. "How can he fasten his nest to the side of a chimney +unless there's a little shelf to put it on? And if be never +alights, how does he get the little sticks to make a nest of? I'd +just like to know how you expect me to believe any such story as +that." + +Jenny Wren's sharp little eyes snapped. "If you half used your +eyes you wouldn't have to ask me how he gets those little +sticks," she sputtered. "If you had watched him when he was +flying close to the tree tops you would have seen him clutch +little dead twigs in his claws and snap them off without +stopping. That's the way he gets his little sticks, Mr. Smarty, +He fastens them together with a sticky substance he has in his +mouth, and he fastens the nest to the side of the chimney in the +same way. You can believe it or not, but it's so." + +"I believe it, Jenny, I believe it," replied Johnny Chuck very +humbly. "If you please, Jenny, does Sooty get all his food in the +air too?" + +"Of course," replied Jenny tartly. "He eats nothing but insects, +and he catches them flying. Now I must get back to my duties at +home." + +"Just tell me one more thing," cried Johnny Chuck hastily. +"Hasn't Sooty any near relatives as most birds have?" + +"He hasn't any one nearer than some sort of second cousins, +Boomer the Nighthawk, Whippoorwill, and Hummer the Hummingbird." + +"What?" cried Johnny Chuck, quite as if he couldn't believe he +had heard aright. "Did you say Hummer the Hummingbird?" But he +got no reply, for Jenny Wren was already beyond hearing. + + + +CHAPTER XVI A Robber in the Old Orchard. + +"I don't believe it," muttered Johnny Chuck out loud. "I don't +believe Jenny Wren knows what she's talking about." + +"What is it Jenny Wren has said that you don't believe?" demanded +Skimmer the Tree Swallow, as he once more settled himself in his +doorway. + +"She said that Hummer the Hummingbird is a sort of second cousin +to Sooty the Chimney Swift," replied Johnny Chuck. + +"Well, it's so, if you don't believe it," declared Skimmer. "I +don't see that that is any harder to believe than that you are +cousin to Striped Chipmunk and Nappy Jack the Gray Squirrel. To +look at you no one would ever think you are a member of the +Squirrel family, but you must admit that you are." + +Johnny Chuck nodded his head thoughtfully. "Yes," said he, "I am, +even if I don't look it. This is a funny world, isn't it? You +can't always tell by a person's looks who he may be related to. +Now that I've found out that Sooty isn't related to you and is +related to Hummer, I'll never dare guess again about anybody's +relatives. I always supposed Twitter the Martin to be a relative +of yours, but now that I've learned that Sooty isn't, I suspect +that Twitter isn't either." + +"Oh, yes, he is," replied Skimmer promptly. "He's the largest of +the Swallow family, and we all feel very proud of him. Everybody +loves him." + +"Is he as black as he looks, flying round up in the air?" asked +Johnny Chuck. "He never comes down here as you do where a fellow +can get a good look at him." + +"Yes," replied Skimmer, "he dresses all in black, but it is a +beautiful blue-black, and when the sun shines on his back it +seems to be almost purple. That is why some folks call him the +Purple Martin. He is one of the most social fellows I know of. I +like a home by myself, such as I've got here, but Twitter loves +company. He likes to live in an apartment house with a lot of his +own kind. That is why he always looks for one of those houses +with a lot of rooms in it, such as Farmer Brown's boy has put up +on the top of that tall pole out in his back yard. He pays for +all the trouble Farmer Brown's boy took to put that house up. If +there is anybody who catches more flies and winged insects than +Twitter, I don't know who it is." + +"How about me?" demanded a new voice, as a graceful form skimmed +over Johnny Chuck's head, and turning like a flash, came back. It +was Forktail the Barn Swallow, the handsomest and one of the most +graceful of all the Swallow family. He passed so close to Johnny +that the latter had a splendid chance to see and admire his +glistening steel-blue back and the beautiful chestnut-brown of +his forehead and throat with its narrow black collar, and the +brown to buff color of his under parts. But the thing that was +most striking about him was his tail, which was so deeply forked +as to seem almost like two tails. + +"I would know him as far as I could see him just by his tail +alone," exclaimed Johnny. "I don't know of any other tail at all +like it." + +"There isn't any other like it," declared Skimmer. "If Twitter +the Martin is the largest of our family, Forktail is the +handsomest." + +"How about my usefulness?" demanded Forktail, as he came skimming +past again. "Cousin Twitter certainly does catch a lot of flies +and insects but I'm willing to go against him any day to see who +can catch the most." + +With this he darted away. Watching him they saw him alight on the +top of Farmer Brown's barn. "It's funny," remarked Johnny Chuck, +"but as long as I've known Forktail, and I've known him ever +since I was big enough to know anybody, I've never found out how +he builds his nest. I've seen him skimming over the Green Meadows +times without number, and often he comes here to the Old Orchard +as he did just now, but I've never seen him stop anywhere except +over on that barn." + +"That's where he nests," chuckled Skimmer. + +"What?" cried Johnny Chuck. "Do you mean to say he nests on Farmer +Brown's barn?" + +"No," replied Skimmer. "He nests in it. That's why he is called +the Barn Swallow, and why you never have seen his nest. If you'll +just go over to Farmer Brown's barn and look up in the roof, +you'll see Forktail's nest there somewhere." + +"Me go over to Farmer Brown's barn!" exclaimed Johnny Chuck. "Do +you think I'm crazy?" + +Skimmer chuckled. "Forktail isn't crazy," said he, "and he goes +in and out of that barn all day long. I must say I wouldn't care +to build in such a place myself, but he seems to like it. There's +one thing about it, his home is warm and dry and comfortable, no +matter what the weather is. I wouldn't trade with him, though. +No, sir, I wouldn't trade with him for anything. Give me a hollow +in a tree well lined with feathers to a nest made of mud and +straw, even if it is feather-lined." + +"Do you mean that such a neat-looking, handsome fellow as +Forktail uses mud in his nest?" cried Johnny. + +Skimmer bobbed his head. "He does just that," said he. "He's +something like Welcome Robin in this respect. I--" + +But Johnny Chuck never knew what Skimmer was going to say next, +for Skimmer happened at that instant to glance up. For an instant +he sat motionless with horror, then with a shriek he darted out +into the air. At the sound of that shriek Mrs. Skimmer, who all +the time had been sitting on her eggs inside the hollow of the +tree, darted out of her doorway, also shrieking. For a moment +Johnny Chuck couldn't imagine what could be the trouble. Then a +slight rustling drew his eyes to a crotch in the tree a little +above the doorway of Skimmer's home. There, partly coiled around +a branch, with head swaying to and fro, eyes glittering and +forked tongue darting out and in, as he tried to look down into +Skimmer's nest, was Mr. Blacksnake. + +It seemed to Johnny as if in a minute every bird in the Old +Orchard had arrived on the scene. Such a shrieking and screaming +as there was! First one and then another would dart at Mr. +Blacksnake, only to lose courage at the last second and turn +aside. Poor Skimmer and his little wife were frantic. They did +their utmost to distract Mr. Blacksnake's attention, darting +almost into his very face and then away again before he could +strike. But Mr. Blacksnake knew that they were powerless to hurt +him, and he knew that there were eggs in that nest. There is +nothing he loves better than eggs unless it is a meal of baby +birds. Beyond hissing angrily two or three times he paid no +attention to Skimmer or his friends, but continued to creep +nearer the entrance to that nest. + +At last he reached a position where he could put his head in the +doorway. As he did so, Skimmer and Mrs. Skimmer each gave a +little cry of hopelessness and despair. But no sooner had his +head disappeared in the hole in the old apple-tree than Scrapper +the Kingbird struck him savagely. Instantly Mr. Blacksnake +withdrew his head, hissing fiercely, and struck savagely at the +birds nearest him. Several times the same thing happened. No +sooner would his head disappear in that hole than Scrapper or one +or the other of Skimmer's friends, braver than the rest, would +dart in and peck at him viciously, and all the time all the birds +were screaming as only excited feathered folk can. Johnny Chuck +was quite as excited as his feathered friends, and so intent +watching the hated black robber that he had eyes for nothing +else. Suddenly he heard a step just behind him. He turned his +head and then frantically dived head first down into his hole. He +had looked right up into the eyes of Farmer Brown's boy! + +"Ha, ha!" cried Farmer Brown's boy, "I thought as much!" And +with a long switch he struck Mr. Blacksnake just as the latter +had put his head in that doorway, resolved to get those eggs this +time. But when he felt that switch and heard the voice of Farmer +Brown's boy he changed his mind in a flash. He simply let go his +hold on that tree and dropped. The instant he touched the ground +he was off like a shot for the safety of the old stone wall, +Farmer Brown's boy after him. Farmer Brown's boy didn't intend to +kill Mr. Blacksnake, but he did want to give him such a fright +that he wouldn't visit the Old Orchard again in a hurry, and this +he quite succeeded in doing. + +No sooner had Mr. Blacksnake disappeared than all the birds set +up such a rejoicing that you would have thought they, and not +Farmer Brown's boy, had saved the eggs of Mr. and Mrs. Skimmer. +Listening to them, Johnny Chuck just had to smile. + + + +CHAPTER XVII More Robbers. + +By the sounds of rejoicing among the feathered folks of the Old +Orchard Johnny Chuck knew that it was quite safe for him to come +out. He was eager to tell Skimmer the Tree Swallow how glad he +was that Mr. Blacksnake had been driven away before he could get +Skimmer's eggs. As he poked his head out of his doorway he became +aware that something was still wrong in the Old Orchard. Into the +glad chorus there broke a note of distress and sorrow. Johnny +instantly recognized the voices of Welcome Robin and Mrs. Robin. +There is not one among his feathered neighbors who can so express +worry and sorrow as can the Robins. + +Johnny was just in time to see all the birds hurrying over to +that part of the Old Orchard where the Robins had built their +home. The rejoicing suddenly gave way to cries of indignation and +anger, and Johnny caught the words, "Robber! Thief! Wretch!" It +appeared that there was just as much excitement over there as +there had been when Mr. Blacksnake had been discovered trying to +rob Skimmer and Mrs. Skimmer. It couldn't be Mr. Blacksnake +again, because Farmer Brown's boy had chased him in quite another +direction. + +"What is it now?" asked Johnny of Skimmer, who was still +excitedly discussing with Mrs. Skimmer their recent fright. + +"I don't know, but I'm going to find out," replied Skimmer and +darted away. + +Johnny Chuck waited patiently. The excitement among the birds +seemed to increase, and the chattering and angry cries grew +louder. Only the voices of Welcome and Mrs. Robin were not angry. +They were mournful, as if Welcome and Mrs. Robin were +heartbroken. Presently Skimmer came back to tell Mrs. Skimmer the +news. + +"The Robins have lost their eggs!" he cried excitedly. "All four +have been broken and eaten. Mrs. Robin left them to come over +here to help drive away Mr. Blacksnake, and while she was here +some one ate those eggs. Nobody knows who it could have been, +because all the birds of the Old Orchard were over here at that +time. It might leave been Chatterer the Red Squirrel, or it might +have been Sammy Jay, or it might have been Creaker the Grackle, +or it might have been Blacky the Crow. Whoever it was just took +that chance to sneak over there and rob that nest when there was +no one to see him." + +Just then from over towards the Green Forest sounded a mocking +"Caw, caw, caw!" Instantly the noise in the Old Orchard ceased +for a moment. Then it broke out afresh. There wasn't a doubt now +in any one's mind. Blacky the Crow was the robber. How those +tongues did go! There was nothing too bad to say about Blacky. +And such dreadful things as those birds promised to do to Blacky +the Crow if ever they should catch him in the Old Orchard. + +"Caw, caw, caw!" shouted Blacky from the distance, and his voice +sounded very much as if he thought he had done something very +smart. It was quite clear that at least he was not sorry for what +he had done. + +All the birds were so excited and so angry, as they gathered +around Welcome and Mrs. Robin trying to comfort them, that it was +some time before their indignation meeting broke up and they +returned to their own homes and duties. Almost at once there was +another cry of distress. Mr. and Mrs. Chebec had been robbed of +their eggs! While they had been attending the indignation meeting +at the home of the Robins, a thief had taken the chance to steal +their eggs and get away. + +Of course right away all the birds hurried over to sympathize +with the Chebecs and to repeat against the unknown thief all the +threats they had made against Blacky the Crow. They knew it +couldn't have been Blacky this time because they had heard Blacky +cawing over on the edge of the Green Forest. In the midst of the +excited discussion as to who the thief was, Weaver the Orchard +Oriole spied a blue and white feather on the ground just below +Chebec's nest. + +"It was Sammy Jay! There is no doubt about it, it was Sammy Jay!" +he cried. + +At the sight of that telltale feather all the birds knew that +Weaver was right, and led by Scrapper the Kingbird they began a +noisy search of the Old Orchard for the sly robber. But Sammy +wasn't to be found, and they soon gave up the search, none daring +to stay longer away from his own home lest something should +happen there. Welcome and Mrs. Robin continued to cry mournfully, +but little Mr. and Mrs. Chebec bore their trouble almost +silently. + +"There is one thing about it," said Mr. Chebec to his sorrowful +little wife, "that egg of Sally Sly's went with the rest, and we +won't have to raise that bothersome orphan." + +"That's true," said she. "There is no use crying over what can't +be helped. It is a waste of time to sit around crying. Come on, +Chebec, let's look for a place to build another nest. Next time I +won't leave the eggs unwatched for a minute." + +Meanwhile Jenny Wren's tongue was fairly flying as she chattered +to Peter Rabbit, who had come up in the midst of the excitement +and of course had to know all about it. + +"Blacky the Crow has a heart as black as his coat, and his cousin +Sammy Jay isn't much better," declared Jenny. "They belong to a +family of robbers." + +"Wait a minute," cried Peter. "Do you mean to say that Blacky the +Crow and Sammy Jay are cousins?" + +"For goodness' sake, Peter!" exclaimed Jenny, "do you mean to say +that you don't know that? Of course they're cousins. They don't +look much alike, but they belong to the same family. I would +expect almost anything bad of any one as black as Blacky the +Crow. But how such a handsome fellow as Sammy Jay can do such +dreadful things I don't understand. He isn't as bad as Blacky, +because he does do a lot of good. He destroys a lot of +caterpillars and other pests. + +"There are no sharper eyes anywhere than those of Sammy Jay, and +I'll have to say this for him, that whenever he discovers any +danger he always gives us warning. He has saved the lives of a +good many of us feathered folks in this way. If it wasn't for +this habit of stealing our eggs I wouldn't have a word to say +against him, but at that, he isn't as bad as Blacky the Crow. +They say Blacky does some good by destroying white grubs and some +other harmful pests, but he's a regular cannibal, for he is just +as fond of young birds as he is of eggs, and the harm he does in +this way is more than the good he does in other ways. He's bold, +black, and bad, if you ask me. + +Remembering her household duties, Jenny Wren disappeared inside +her house in her usual abrupt fashion. Peter hung around for a +while but finding no one who would take the time to talk to him +he suddenly decided to go over to the Green Forest to look for +some of his friends there. He had gone but a little way in the +Green Forest when he caught a glimpse of a blue form stealing +away through the trees. He knew it in an instant, for there is no +one with such a coat but Sammy Jay. Peter glanced up in the tree +from which Sammy had flown and there he saw a nest in a crotch +halfway up. "I wonder," thought Peter, "if Sammy was stealing +eggs there, or if that is his own nest." Then he started after +Sammy as fast as he could go, lipperty-lipperty-lip. As he ran he +happened to look back and was just in time to see Mrs. Jay slip +on to the nest. Then Peter knew that he had discovered Sammy's +home. He chuckled as he ran. + +"I've found out your secret, Sammy Jay!" cried Peter when at last +he caught up with Sammy. + +"Then I hope you'll be gentleman enough to keep it," grumbled +Sammy, looking not at all pleased. + +"Certainly," replied Peter with dignity. "I wouldn't think of +telling any one. My, what a handsome fellow you are, Sammy." + +Sammy looked pleased. He is a little bit vain, is Sammy Jay. +There is no denying that he is handsome. He is just a bit bigger +than Welcome Robin. His back is grayish-blue. His tail is a +bright blue crossed with little black bars and edged with white. +His wings are blue with white and black bars. His throat and +breast are a soft grayish-white, and he wears a collar of black. +On his head he wears a pointed cap, a very convenient cap, for at +times he draws it down so that it is not pointed at all. + +"Why did you steal Mrs. Chebec's eggs?" demanded Peter abruptly. + +Sammy didn't look the least bit put out. "Because I like eggs," +he replied promptly. "If people will leave their eggs unguarded +they must expect to lose them. How did you know I took those +eggs?" + +"Never mind, Sammy; never mind. A little bird told me," retorted +Peter mischievously. + +Sammy opened his mouth for a sharp reply, but instead he uttered +a cry of warning. "Run, Peter! Run! Here comes Reddy Fox!" he +cried. + +Peter dived headlong under a great pile of brush. There he was +quite safe. While he waited for Reddy Fox to go away he thought +about Sammy Jay. "It's funny," he mused, "how so much good and so +much bad can be mixed together. Sammy Jay stole Chebec's eggs, +and then he saved my life. I just know he would have done as much +for Mr. and Mrs. Chebec, or for any other feathered neighbor. He +can only steal eggs for a little while in the spring. I guess on +the whole he does more good than harm. I'm going to think so +anyway." + +Peter was quite right. Sammy Jay does do more good than harm. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII Some Homes in the Green Forest. + +Reddy Fox wasted very little time waiting for Peter Rabbit to +come out from under that pile of brush where he had hidden at +Sammy Jay's warning. After making some terrible threats just to +try to frighten Peter, he trotted away to look for some Mice. +Peter didn't mind those threats at all. He was used to them. He +knew that he was safe where he was, and all he had to do was to +stay there until Reddy should be so far away that it would be +safe to come out. + +Just to pass away the time Peter took a little nap. When he awoke +he sat for a few minutes trying to make up his mind where to go +and what to do next. From 'way over in the direction of the Old +Pasture the voice of Blacky the Crow reached him. Peter pricked +up his ears, then chuckled. + +"Reddy Fox has gone back to the Old Pasture and Blacky has +discovered him there," he thought happily. You see, he understood +what Blacky was saying. To you or me Blacky would have been +saying simply, "Caw! Caw!" But to all the little people of the +Green Forest and Green Meadows within hearing he was shouting, +"Fox! Fox!" + +"I wonder," thought Peter, "where Blacky is nesting this year. +Last year his nest was in a tall pine-tree not far from the edge +of the Green Forest. I believe I'll run over there and see if he +has a new nest near the old one." + +So Peter scampered over to the tall pine in which was Blacky's +old nest. As he sat with his head tipped back, staring up at it, +it struck him that that nest didn't look so old, after all. In +fact, it looked as if it had recently been fixed up quite like +new. He was wondering about this and trying to guess what it +meant, when Blacky himself alighted close to the edge of it. + +There was something in his bill, though what it was Peter +couldn't see. Almost at once a black head appeared above the edge +of the nest and a black bill seized the thing which Blacky had +brought. Then the head disappeared and Blacky silently flew away. + +"As sure as I live," thought Peter, "that was Mrs. Blacky, and +Blacky brought her some food so that she would not have to leave +those eggs she must have up there. He may be the black-hearted +robber every one says he is, but he certainly is a good husband. +He's a better husband than some others I know, of whom nothing +but good is said. It just goes to show that there is some good in +the very worst folks. Blacky is a sly old rascal. Usually he is +as noisy as any one I know, but he came and went without making a +sound. Now I think of it, I haven't once heard his voice near +here this spring. I guess if Farmer Brown's boy could find this +nest he would get even with Blacky for pulling up his corn. I +know a lot of clever people, but no one quite so clever as Blacky +the Crow. With all his badness I can't help liking him." + +Twice, while Peter watched, Blacky returned with food for Mrs. +Blacky. Then, tired of keeping still so long, Peter decided to +run over to a certain place farther in the Green Forest which was +seldom visited by any one. It was a place Peter usually kept away +from. It was pure curiosity which led him to go there now. The +discovery that Blacky the Crow was using his old nest had +reminded Peter that Redtail the Hawk uses his old nest year after +year, and he wanted to find out if Redtail had come back to it +this year. + +Halfway over to that lonesome place in the Green Forest a trim +little bird flew up from the ground, hopped from branch to branch +of a tree, walked along a limb, then from pure happiness threw +back his head and cried, "Teacher, teacher, teacher, teacher, +teacher! " each time a little louder than before. It was Teacher +the Oven Bird. + +In his delight at seeing this old friend, Peter quite forgot +Redtail the Hawk. "Oh, Teacher!" cried Peter. "I'm so glad to see +you again!" + +Teacher stopped singing and looked down at Peter. "If you are so +glad why haven't you been over to see me before?" he demanded. +"I've been here for some time." + +Peter looked a little foolish. "The truth is, Teacher," said he +very humbly, "I have been visiting the Old Orchard so much and +learning so many things that this is the first chance I have had +to come 'way over here in the Green Forest. You see, I have been +learning a lot of things about you feathered folks, things I +hadn't even guessed. There is something I wish you'd tell me, +Teacher; will you?" + +"That depends on what it is," replied Teacher, eyeing Peter a +little suspiciously. + +"It is why you are called Oven Bird," said Peter. + +"Is that all?" asked Teacher. Then without waiting for a reply he +added, "It is because of the way Mrs. Teacher and I build our +nest. Some people think it is like an oven and so they call us +Oven Birds. I think that is a silly name myself, quite as silly as +Golden Crowned Thrush, which is what some people call me. I'm not +a Thrush. I'm not even related to the Thrush family. I'm a +Warbler, a Wood Warbler." + +"I suppose," said Peter, looking at Teacher thoughtfully, +"they've given you that name because you are dressed something +like the Thrushes. That olive-green coat, and white waistcoat all +streaked and spotted with black, certainly does remind me of the +Thrush family. If you were not so much smaller than any of the +Thrushes I should almost think you were one myself. Why, you are +not very much bigger than Chippy the Chipping Sparrow, only +you've got longer legs. I suppose that's because you spend so +much time on the ground. I think that just Teacher is the best +name for you. No one who has once heard you could ever mistake +you for any one else. By the way, Teacher, where did you say your +nest is?" + +"I didn't say," retorted Teacher. "What's more, I'm not going to +say." + +"Won't you at least tell me if it is in a tree?" begged Peter. + +Teacher's eyes twinkled. "I guess it won't do any harm to tell +you that much," said he. "No, it isn't in a tree. It is on the +ground and, if I do say it, it is as well hidden a nest as +anybody can build. Oh, Peter, watch your step! Watch your step!" +Teacher fairly shrieked this warning. + +Peter, who had just started to hop off to his right, stopped +short in sheer astonishment. Just in front of him was a tiny +mound of dead leaves, and a few feet beyond Mrs. Teacher was +fluttering about on the ground as if badly hurt. Peter simply +didn't know what to make of it. Once more he made a movement as +if to hop. Teacher flew right down in front of him. "You'll step +on my nest!" he cried. + +Peter stared, for he didn't see any nest. He said as much. + +"It's under that little mound of leaves right in front of your +feet!" cried Teacher. "I wasn't going to tell you, but I just had +to or you certainly would have stepped on it." + +Very carefully Peter walked around the little bunch of leaves and +peered under them from the other side. There, sure enough, was a +nest beneath them, and in it four speckled eggs. "I won't tell a +soul, Teacher. I promise you I won't tell a soul," declared Peter +very earnestly. "I understand now why you are called Oven Bird, +but I still like the name Teacher best." + +Feeling that Mr. and Mrs. Teacher would feel easier in their +minds if he left them, Peter said good-by and started on for the +lonesome place in the Green Forest where he knew the old nest of +Redtail the Hawk had been. As he drew near the place he kept +sharp watch through the treetops for a glimpse of Redtail. +Presently he saw him high in the blue sky, sailing lazily in big +circles. Then Peter became very, very cautious. He tiptoed +forward, keeping under cover as much as possible. At last, +peeping out from beneath a little hemlock-tree, he could see +Redtail's old nest. He saw right away that it was bigger than it +had been when he saw it last. Suddenly there was a chorus of +hungry cries and Peter saw Mrs. Redtail approaching with a Mouse +in her claws. From where he sat he could see four funny heads +stretched above the edge of the nest. + +"Redtail is using his old nest again and has got a family +already," exclaimed Peter. "I guess this is no place for me. The +sooner I get away from here the better." + +Just then Redtail himself dropped down out of the blue, blue sky +and alighted on a tree close at hand. Peter decided that the best +thing he could do was to sit perfectly still where he was. He had +a splendid view of Redtail, and he couldn't help but admire this +big member of the Hawk family. The upper parts of his coat were a +dark grayish-brown mixed with touches of chestnut color. The +upper part of his breast was streaked with grayish-brown and +buff, the lower part having but few streaks. Below this were +black spots and bars ending in white. But it was the tail which +Peter noticed most of all. It was a rich reddish-brown with a +narrow black band near its end and a white tip. Peter understood +at once why this big Hawk is called Redtail. + +It was not until Mr. and Mrs. Redtail had gone in quest of more +food for their hungry youngsters that Peter dared steal away. As +soon as he felt it safe to do so, he headed for home as fast as +he could go, lipperty-lipperty-lip. He knew that he wouldn't feel +safe until that lonesome place in the Green Forest was far +behind. + +Yet if the truth be known, Peter had less cause to worry than +would have been the case had it been some other member of the +Hawk family instead of Redtail. And while Redtail and his wife do +sometimes catch some of their feathered and furred neighbors, and +once in a while a chicken, they do vastly more good than harm. + + + +CHAPTER XIX A Maker of Thunder and a Friend in Black. + +Peter Rabbit's intentions were of the best. Once safely away from +that lonesome part of the Green Forest where was the home of +Redtail the Hawk, he intended to go straight back to the dear Old +Briar-patch. But he was not halfway there when from another +direction in the Green Forest there came a sound that caused him +to stop short and quite forget all about home. It was a sound +very like distant thunder. It began slowly at first and then went +faster and faster. Boom--Boom--Boom--Boom-Boom-Boom Boo-Boo-B-B- +B-B-b-b-b-b-boom! It was like the long roll on a bass drum. + +Peter laughed right out. "That's Strutter the Stuffed Grouse!" he +cried joyously. "I had forgotten all about him. I certainly must +go over and pay him a call and find out where Mrs. Grouse is. My, +how Strutter can drum!" + +Peter promptly headed towards that distant thunder. As he drew +nearer to it, it sounded louder and louder. Presently Peter +stopped to try to locate exactly the place where that sound, +which now was more than ever like thunder, was coming from. +Suddenly Peter remembered something. "I know just where he is," +said he to himself. "There's a big, mossy, hollow log over +yonder, and I remember that Mrs. Grouse once told me that that is +Strutter's thunder log." + +Very, very carefully Peter stole forward, making no sound at all. +At last he reached a place where he could peep out and see that +big, mossy, hollow log. Sure enough, there was Strutter the +Ruffed Grouse. When Peter first saw him he was crouched on one +end of the log, a fluffy ball of reddish-brown, black and gray +feathers. He was resting. Suddenly he straightened up to his full +height, raised his tail and spread it until it was like an open +fan above his back. The outer edge was gray, then came a broad +band of black, followed by bands of gray, brown and black. Around +his neck was a wonderful ruff of black. His reddish-brown wings +were dropped until the tips nearly touched the log. His full +breast rounded out and was buff color with black markings. He +was of about the size of the little Bantam hens Peter had seen in +Farmer Brown's henyard. + +In the most stately way you can imagine Strutter walked the +length of that mossy log. He was a perfect picture of pride as he +strutted very much like Tom Gobbler the big Turkey cock. When he +reached the end of the log he suddenly dropped his tail, +stretched himself to his full height and his wings began to beat, +first slowly then faster and faster, until they were just a blur. +They seemed to touch above his back but when they came down they +didn't quite strike his sides. It was those fast moving wings +that made the thunder. It was so loud that Peter almost wanted to +stop his ears. When it ended Strutter settled down to rest and +once more appeared like a ball of fluffy feathers. His ruff was +laid flat. + +Peter watched him thunder several times and then ventured to show +himself. "Strutter, you are wonderful! simply wonderful!" cried +Peter, and he meant just what he said. + +Strutter threw out his chest proudly. "That is just what Mrs. +Grouse says," he replied. "I don't know of any better thunderer +if I do say it myself." + +"Speaking of Mrs. Grouse, where is she?" asked Peter eagerly. + +"Attending to her household affairs, as a good housewife should," +retorted Strutter promptly. + +"Do you mean she has a nest and eggs?" asked Peter. + +Strutter nodded. "She has twelve eggs," he added proudly. + +"I suppose," said Peter artfully, "her nest is somewhere near +here on the ground." + +"It's on the ground, Peter, but as to where it is I am not saying +a word. It may or it may not be near here. Do you want to hear me +thunder again?" + +Of course Peter said he did, and that was sufficient excuse for +Strutter to show off. Peter stayed a while longer to gossip, but +finding Strutter more interested in thundering than in talking, +he once more started for home. + +"I really would like to know where that nest is," said he to +himself as he scampered along. "I suppose Mrs. Grouse has hidden +it so cleverly that it is quite useless to look for it." + +On his way he passed a certain big tree. All around the ground +was carpeted with brown, dead leaves. There were no bushes or +young trees there. Peter never once thought of looking for a +nest. It was the last place in the world he would expect to find +one. When he was well past the big tree there was a soft chuckle +and from among the brown leaves right at the foot of that big +tree a head with a pair of the brightest eyes was raised a +little. Those eyes twinkled as they watched Peter out of sight. + +"He didn't see me at all," chuckled Mrs. Grouse, as she settled +down once more. "That is what comes of having a cloak so like the +color of these nice brown leaves. He isn't the first one who has +passed me without seeing me at all. It is better than trying to +hide a nest, and I certainly am thankful to Old Mother Nature for +the cloak she gave me. I wonder if every one of these twelve eggs +will hatch. If they do, I certainly will have a family to be +proud of." + +Meanwhile Peter hurried on in his usual happy-go-lucky fashion +until he came to the edge of the Green Forest. Out on the Green +Meadows just beyond he caught sight of a black form walking about +in a stately way and now and then picking up something. It +reminded him of Blacky the Crow, but he knew right away that it +wasn't Blacky, because it was so much smaller, being not more +than half as big. + +"It's Creaker the Grackle. He was one of the first to arrive this +spring and I'm ashamed of myself for not having called on him," +thought Peter, as he hopped out and started across the Green +Meadows towards Creaker. "What a splendid long tail he has. I +believe Jenny Wren told me that he belongs to the Blackbird +family. He looks so much like Blacky the Crow that I suppose this +is why they call him Crow Blackbird." + +Just then Creaker turned in such a way that the sun fell full on +his head and back. "Why! Why-ee!" exclaimed Peter, rubbing his +eyes with astonishment. "He isn't just black! He's beautiful, +simply beautiful, and I've always supposed he was just plain, +homely black." + +It was true. Creaker the Grackle with the sun shining on him was +truly beautiful. His head and neck, his throat and upper breast, +were a shining blue-black, while his back was a rich, shining +brassy-green. His wings and tail were much like his head and +neck. As Peter watched it seemed as if the colors were constantly +changing. This changing of colors is called iridescence. One +other thing Peter noticed and this was that Creaker's eyes were +yellow. Just at the moment Peter couldn't remember any other bird +with yellow eyes. + +"Creaker," cried Peter, "I wonder if you know how handsome you +are!" + +"I'm glad you think so," replied Creaker. "I'm not at all vain, +but there are mighty few birds I would change coats with." + +"Is--is--Mrs. Creaker dressed as handsomely as you are?" asked +Peter rather timidly. + +Creaker shook his head. "Not quite," said he. "She likes plain +black better. Some of the feathers on her back shine like mine, +but she says that she has no time to show off in the sun and to +take care of fine feathers." + +"Where is she now?" asked Peter. + +"Over home," replied Creaker, pulling a white grub out of the +roots of the grass. "We've got a nest over there in one of those +pine-trees on the edge of the Green Forest and I expect any day +now we will have four hungry babies to feed. I shall have to get +busy then. You know I am one of those who believe that every +father should do his full share in taking care of his family." + +"I'm glad to hear you say it," declared Peter, nodding his head +with approval quite as if he was himself the best of fathers, +which he isn't at all. + +"May I ask you a very personal question, Creaker?" + +"Ask as many questions as you like. I don't have to answer them +unless I want to," retorted Creaker. + +"Is it true that you steal the eggs of other birds?" Peter +blurted the question out rather hurriedly. + +Creaker's yellow eyes began to twinkle. "That is a very personal +question," said he. "I won't go so far as to say I steal eggs, +but I've found that eggs are very good for my constitution and if +I find a nest with nobody around I sometimes help myself to the +eggs. You see the owner might not come back and then those eggs +would spoil, and that would be a pity." + +"That's no excuse at all," declared Peter. "I believe you're no +better than Sammy Jay and Blacky the Crow." + +Creaker chuckled, but he did not seem to be at all offended. Just +then he heard Mrs. Creaker calling him and with a hasty farewell +he spread his wings and headed for the Green Forest. Once in the +air he seemed just plain black. Peter watched him out of sight +and then once more headed for the dear Old Briar-patch. + + + +CHAPTER XX A Fisherman Robbed. + +Just out of curiosity, and because he possesses what is called +the wandering foot, which means that he delights to roam about, +Peter Rabbit had run over to the bank of the Big River. There +were plenty of bushes, clumps of tall grass, weeds and tangles of +vines along the bank of the Big River, so that Peter felt quite +safe there. He liked to sit gazing out over the water and wonder +where it all came from and where it was going and what, kept it +moving. + +He was doing this very thing on this particular morning when he +happened to glance up in the blue, blue sky. There he saw a +broad-winged bird sailing in wide, graceful circles. Instantly +Peter crouched a little lower in his hiding-place, for he knew +this for a member of the Hawk family and Peter has learned by +experience that the only way to keep perfectly safe when one of +these hook-clawed, hook-billed birds is about is to keep out +of sight. + +So now he crouched very close to the ground and kept his eyes +fixed on the big bird sailing so gracefully high up in the blue, +blue sky over the Big River. Suddenly the stranger paused in his +flight and for a moment appeared to remain in one place, his +great wings heating rapidly to hold him there. Then those wings +were closed and with a rush he shot down straight for the water, +disappearing with a great splash. Instantly Peter sat up to his +full height that he might see better. + +"It's Plunger the Osprey fishing, and I've nothing to fear from +him," he cried happily. + +Out of the water, his great wings flapping, rose Plunger. Peter +looked eagerly to see if he had caught a fish, but there was +nothing in Plunger's great, curved claws. Either that fish had +been too deep or had seen Plunger and darted away just in the +nick of time. Peter had a splendid view of Plunger. He was just a +little bigger than Redtail the Hawk. Above he was dark brown, his +head and neck marked with white. His tail was grayish, crossed by +several narrow dark bands and tipped with white. His under parts +were white with some light brown spots on his breast. Peter could +see clearly the great, curved claws which are Plunger's +fishhooks. + +Up, up, up he rose, going round and round in a spiral. When he +was well up in the blue, blue sky, he began to sail again in wide +circles as when Peter had first seen him. It wasn't long before +he again paused and then shot down towards the water. This time +he abruptly spread his great wings just before reaching the water +so that he no more than wet his feet. Once more a fish had +escaped him. But Plunger seemed not in the least discouraged. He +is a true fisherman and every true fisherman possesses patience. +Up again he spiraled until he was so high that Peter wondered how +he could possibly see a fish so far below. You see, Peter didn't +know that it is easier to see down into the water from high above +it than from close to it. Then, too, there are no more wonderful +eyes than those possessed by the members of the Hawk family. And +Plunger the Osprey is a Hawk, usually called Fish Hawk. + +A third time Plunger shot down and this time, as in his first +attempt, he struck the water with a great splash and +disappeared. In an instant he reappeared, shaking the water from +him in a silver spray and flapping heavily. This time Fetes could +gee a great shining fish in his claws. It was heavy, as Peter +could tell by the way in which Plunger flew. He headed towards a +tall tree on the other bank of the Big River, there to enjoy his +breakfast. He was not more than halfway there when Peter was +startled by a harsh scream. + +He looked up to see a great bird, with wonderful broad wings, +swinging in short circles about Plunger. His body and wings were +dark brown, and his head was snowy white, as was his tail. His +great hooked beak was yellow and his legs were yellow. Peter knew +in an instant who it was. There could be no mistake. It was King +Eagle, commonly known as Bald Head, though his head isn't bald +at all. + +Peter's eyes looked as if they would pop out of his head, for it +was quite plain to him that King Eagle was after Plunger, and +Peter didn't understand this at all. You see, he didn't +understand what King Eagle was screaming. But Plunger did. King +Eagle was screaming, "Drop that fish! Drop that fish!" + +Plunger didn't intend to drop that fish if he could help +himself. It was his fish. Hadn't he caught it himself? He didn't +intend to give it up to any robber of the air, even though that +robber was King Eagle himself, unless he was actually forced to. +So Plunger began to dodge and twist and turn in the air, all the +time mounting higher and higher, and all the time screaming +harshly, "Robber! Thief! I won't drop this fish! It's mine! It's +mine!" + +Now the fish was heavy, so of course Plunger couldn't fly as +easily and swiftly as if he were carrying nothing. Up, up he +went, but all the time King Eagle went up with him, circling +round him, screaming harshly, and threatening to strike him with +those great cruel, curved claws. Peter watched them, so excited +that he fairly danced. "O, I do hope Plunger will get away from +that big robber," cried Peter. "He may be king of the air, but he +is a robber just the same." + +Plunger and King Eagle were now high in the air above the Big +River. Suddenly King Eagle swung above Plunger and for an instant +seemed to hold himself still there, just as Plunger had done +before he had shot down into the water after that fish. There +was a still harsher note in King Eagle's scream. If Peter had +been near enough he would have seen a look of anger and +determination in King Eagle's fierce, yellow eyes. Plunger saw it +and knew what it meant. He knew that King Eagle would stand for +no more fooling. With a cry of bitter disappointment and anger +he let go of the big fish. + +Down, down, dropped the fish, shining in the sun like a bar of +silver. King Eagle's wings half closed and he shot down like a +thunderbolt. Just before the fish reached the water King Eagle +struck it with his great claws, checked himself by spreading his +broad wings and tail, and then in triumph flew over to the very +tree towards which Plunger had started when he had caught the +fish. There he Hisurely made his breakfast, apparently enjoying +it as much as if he had come by it honestly. + +As for poor Plunger, he shook himself, screamed angrily once or +twice, then appeared to think that it was wisest to make the best +of a bad matter and that there were more fish where that one had +come from, for he once more began to sail in circles over the Big +River, searching for a fish near the surface. Peter watched him +until he saw him catch another fish and fly away with it in +triumph. King Eagle watched him, too, but having had a good +breakfast he was quite willing to let Plunger enjoy his catch in +peace. + +Late that afternoon Peter visited the Old Orchard, for he just +had to tell Jenny Wren all about what he had seen that morning. + +"King Eagle is king simply because he is so big and fierce and +strong," sputtered Jenny. "He isn't kingly in his habits, not the +least bit. He never hesitates to rob those smaller than himself, +just as you saw him rob Plunger. He is very fond of fish, and +once in a while he catches one for himself when Plunger isn't +around to be robbed, but he isn't a very good fisherman, and he +isn't the least bit fussy about his fish. Plunger eats only fresh +fish which he catches himself, but King Eagle will eat dead fish +which he finds on the shore. He doesn't seem to care how long +they have been dead either." + +"Doesn't he eat anything but fish?" asked Peter innocently. + +"Well," retorted Jenny Wren, her eyes twinkling, "I wouldn't +advise you to run across the Green Meadows in sight of King +Eagle. I am told he is very fond of Rabbit. In fact he is very +fond of fresh meat of any kind. He even catches the babies of +Lightfoot the Deer when he gets a chance. He is so swift of wing +that even the members of the Duck family fear him, for he is +especially fond of fat Duck. Even Honker the Goose is not safe +from him. King he may he, but he rules only through fear. He is +a white-headed old robber. The best thing I can say of him is +that he takes a mate for life and is loyal and true to her as +long as she lives, and that is a great many years. By the way, +Peter, did you know that she is bigger than he is, and that the +young during the first year after leaving their nest, are bigger +than their parents and do not have white heads? By the time they +get white heads they are the same size as their parents." + +"That's queer and its hard to believe," said Peter. + +"It is queer, but it is true just the same, whether you believe +it or not," retorted Jenny Wren, and whisked out of sight into +her home. + + + + +CHAPTER XXI A Fishing Party. + +Peter Rabbit sat on the edge of the Old Briar-patch trying to +make up his mind whether to stay at home, which was the wise and +proper thing to do, or to go call on some of the friends he had +not yet visited. A sharp, harsh rattle caused him to look up to +see a bird about a third larger than Welcome Robin, and with a +head out of all proportion to the size of his body. He was +flying straight towards the Smiling Pool, rattling harshly as he +flew. The mere sound of his voice settled the matter for Peter. +"It's Rattles the Kingfisher," he cried. "I think I'll run over +to the Smiling Pool and pay him my respects." + +So Peter started for the Smiling Pool as fast as his long legs +could take him, lipperty-lipperty-lip. He had lost sight of +Rattles the Kingfisher, and when he reached the back of the +Smiling Pool he was in doubt which way to turn. It was very early +in the morning and there was not so much as a ripple on the +surface of the Smiling Pool. As Peter sat there trying to make up +his mind which way to go, he saw coming from the direction of the +Big River a great, broad-winged bird, flying slowly. He seemed to +have no neck at all, but carried straight out behind him were +two long legs. + +"Longlegs the Great Blue Heron! I wonder if he is coming here," +exclaimed Peter. "I do hope so." + +Peter stayed right where he was and waited. Nearer and nearer +came Longlegs. When he was right opposite Peter he suddenly +dropped his long legs, folded his great wings, and alighted right +on the edge of the Smiling Pool across from where Peter was +sitting. If he seemed to have no neck at all when he was flying, +now he seemed to be all neck as he stretched it to its full +length. The fact is, his neck was so long that when he was flying +he carried it folded back on his shoulders. Never before had +Peter had such an opportunity to see Longlegs. + +He stood quite four feet high. The top of his head and throat +were white. From the base of his great bill and over his eye was +a black stripe which ended in two long, slender, black feathers +hanging from the back of his head. His bill was longer than his +head, stout and sharp like a spear and yellow in color. His long +neck was a light brownish-gray. His back and wings were of a +bluish color. The bend of each wing and the feathered parts of +his legs were a rusty-red. The remainder of his legs and his feet +were black. Hanging down over his breast were beautiful long +pearly-gray feathers quite unlike any Peter had seen on any of +his other feathered friends. In spite of the length of his legs +and the length of his neck he was both graceful and handsome. + +"I wonder what has brought him over to the Smiling Pool," thought +Peter. + +He didn't have to wait long to find out. After standing perfectly +still with his neck stretched to its full height until he was +sure that no danger was near, Longlegs waded into the water a few +steps, folded his neck back on his shoulders until his long bill +seemed to rest on his breast, and then remained as motionless as +if there were no life in him. Peter also sat perfectly still. By +and by he began to wonder if Longlegs had gone to sleep. His own +patience was reaching an end and he was just about to go on in +search of Rattles the Kingfisher when like a flash the +dagger-like bill of Longlegs shot out and down into the water. +When he withdrew it Peter saw that Longlegs had caught a little +fish which he at once proceeded to swallow head-first. Peter +almost laughed right out as he watched the funny efforts of +Longlegs to gulp that fish down his long throat. Then Longlegs +resumed his old position as motionless as before. + +It was no trouble now for Peter to sit still, for he was too +interested in watching this lone fisherman to think of leaving. +It wasn't long before Longlegs made another catch and this time +it was a fat Pollywog. Peter thought of how he had watched +Plunger the Osprey fishing in the Big River and the difference in +the ways of the two fishermen. + +"Plunger hunts for his fish while Longlegs waits for his fish to +come to him," thought Peter. "I wonder if Longlegs never goes +hunting." + +As if in answer to Peter's thought Longlegs seemed to conclude +that no more fish were coming his way. He stretched himself up to +his full height, looked sharply this way and that way to make +sure that all was safe, then began to walk along the edge of the +Smiling Pool. He put each foot down slowly and carefully so as +to make no noise. He had gone but a few steps when that great +bill darted down like a flash, and Peter saw that he had caught a +careless young Frog. A few steps farther on he caught another +Pollywog. Then coming to a spot that suited him, he once more +waded in and began to watch for fish. + +Peter was suddenly reminded of Rattles the Kingfisher, whom he +had quite forgotten. From the Big Hickory-tree on the bank, +Rattles flew out over the Smiling Pool, hovered for an instant, +then plunged down head-first. There was a splash, and a second +later Rattles was in the air again, shaking the water from him in +a silver spray. In his long, stout, black bill was a little fish. +He flew back to a branch of the Big Hickory-tree that hung out +over the water and thumped the fish against the branch until it +was dead. Then he turned it about so he could swallow it +head-first. It was a big fish for the size of the fisherman and +he had a dreadful time getting it down. But at last it was down, +and Rattles set himself to watch for another. The sun shone full +on him, and Peter gave a little gasp of surprise. + +"I never knew before how handsome Rattles is," thought Peter. He +was about the size of Yellow Wing the Flicker, but his head made +him look bigger than he really was. You see, the feathers on top +of his head stood up in a crest, as if they had been brushed the +wrong way. His head, back, wings and tail were a bluish-gray. His +throat was white and he wore a white collar. In front of each eye +was a little white spot. Across his breast was a belt of +bluish-gray, and underneath he was white. There were tiny spots +of white on his wings, and his tail was spotted with white. His +bill was black and, like that of Longlegs, was long, and +stout, and sharp. It looked almost too big for his size. + +Presently Rattles flew out and plunged into the Smiling Pool +again, this time, very near to where Longlegs was patiently +waiting. He caught a fish, for it is not often that Rattles +misses. It was smaller than the first one Peter had seen him +catch, and this time as soon as he got back to the Big +Hickory-tree, he swallowed it without thumping it against the +branch. As for Longlegs, he looked thoroughly put out. For a +moment or two he stood glaring angrily up at Rattles. You see, +when Rattles had plunged so close to Longlegs he had frightened +all the fish. Finally Longlegs seemed to make up his mind that +there was room for but one fisherman at a time at the Smiling +Pool. Spreading his great wings, folding his long neck back on +his shoulders, and dragging his long legs out behind him, he flew +heavily away in the direction of the Big River. + +Rattles remained long enough to catch another little fish, and +then with a harsh rattle flew off down the Laughing Brook. "I +would know him anywhere by that rattle," thought Peter. "There +isn't any one who can make a noise anything like it. I wonder +where he has gone to now. He must have a nest, but I haven't the +least idea what kind of a nest he builds. Hello! There's +Grandfather Frog over on his green lily pad. Perhaps he can tell +me." + +So Peter hopped along until he was near enough to talk to +Grandfather Frog. "What kind of a nest does Rattles the +Kingfisher build?" repeated Grandfather Frog. "Chug-arum, Peter +Rabbit! I thought everybody knew that Rattles doesn't build a +nest. At least I wouldn't call it a nest. He lives in a hole in +the ground." + +"What!" cried Peter, and looked as if he couldn't believe his own +ears. + +Grandfather Frog grinned and his goggly eyes twinkled. "Yes," +said he, "Rattles lives in a hole in the ground." + +"But--but--but what kind of a hole?" stammered Peter. + +"Just plain hole," retorted Grandfather Frog, grinning more +broadly than ever. Then seeing how perplexed and puzzled Peter +looked, he went on to explain. "He usually picks out a high +gravelly bank close to the water and digs a hole straight in just +a little way from the top. He makes it just big enough for +himself and Mrs. Rattles to go in and out of comfortably, and he +digs it straight in for several feet. I'm told that at the end of +it he makes a sort of bedroom, because he usually has a +good-sized family." + +"Do you mean to say that he digs it himself?" asked Peter. + +Grandfather Frog nodded. "If he doesn't, Mrs. Kingfisher does," +he replied. "Those big bills of theirs are picks as well as fish +spears. They loosen the sand with those and scoop it out with +their feet. I've never seen the inside of their home myself, but +I'm told that their bedroom is lined with fish bones. Perhaps you +may call that a nest, but I don't." + +"I'm going straight down the Laughing Brook to look for that +hole," declared Peter, and left in such a hurry that he forgot to +be polite enough to say thank you to Grandfather Frog. + + + +CHAPTER XXII Some Feathered Diggers. + +Peter Rabbit scampered along down one bank of the Laughing Brook, +eagerly watching for a high, gravelly bank such as Grandfather +Frog had said that Rattles the Kingfisher likes to make his home +in. If Peter had stopped to do a little thinking, he would have +known that he was simply wasting time. You see, the Laughing +Brook was flowing through the Green Meadows, so of course there +would be no high, gravelly bank, because the Green Meadows are +low. But Peter Rabbit, in his usual heedless way, did no +thinking. He had seen Rattles fly down the Laughing Brook, and so +he had just taken it for granted that the home of Rattles must be +somewhere down there. + +At last Peter reached the place where the Laughing Brook entered +the Big River. Of course he hadn't found the home of Rattles. But +now he did find something that for the time being made him quite +forget Rattles and his home. Just before it reached the Big River +the Laughing Brook wound through a swamp in which were many tall +trees and a great number of young trees. A great many big ferns +grew there and were splendid to hide under. Peter always did like +that swamp. + +He had stopped to rest in a clump of ferns when he was startled +by seeing a great bird alight in a tree just a little way from +him. His first thought was that it was a Hawk, so you can imagine +how surprised and pleased he was to discover that it was Mrs. +Longlegs. Somehow Peter had always thought of Longlegs the Blue +Heron as never alighting anywhere except on the ground. But here +was Mrs. Longlegs in a tree. Having nothing to fear, Peter crept +out from his hiding place that he might see better. + +In the tree in which Mrs. Longlegs was perched and just below her +he saw a little platform of sticks. He didn't suspect that it was +a nest, because it looked too rough and loosely put together to +be a nest. Probably he wouldn't have thought about it at all had +not Mrs. Longlegs settled herself on it right while Peter was +watching. It didn't seem big enough or strong enough to hold her, +but it did. + +"As I live," thought Peter, "I've found the nest of Longlegs! He +and Mrs. Longlegs may be good fishermen but they certainly are +mighty poor nest-builders. I don't see how under the sun Mrs. +Longlegs ever gets on and off that nest without kicking the eggs +out." + +Peter sat around for a while, but as he didn't care to let his +presence be known, and as there was no one to talk to, he +presently made up his mind that being so near the Big River he +would go over there to see if Plunger the Osprey was fishing +again on this day. + +When he reached the Big River, Plunger was not in sight. Peter +was disappointed. He had just about made up his mind to return +the way he had come, when from beyond the swamp, farther up the +Big River, he heard the harsh, rattling cry of Rattles the +Kingfisher. It reminded him of what he had come for, and he at +once began to hurry in that direction. + +Peter came out of the swamp on a little sandy beach. There he +squatted for a moment, blinking his eyes, for out there the sun +was very bright. Then a little way beyond him he discovered +something that in his eager curiosity made him quite forget that +he was out in the open where it was anything but safe for a +Rabbit to be. What he saw was a high sandy bank. With a hasty +glance this way and that way to make sure that no enemy was in +sight, Peter scampered along the edge of the water till he was +right at the foot of that sandy bank. Then he squatted down and +looked eagerly for a hole such as he imagined Rattles the +Kingfisher might make. Instead of one hole he saw a lot of holes, +but they were very small holes. He knew right away that Rattles +couldn't possibly get in or out of a single one of those holes. +In fact, those holes in the bank were no bigger than the holes +Downy the Woodpecker makes in trees. Peter couldn't imagine who +or what had made them. + +As Peter sat there staring and wondering a trim little head +appeared at the entrance to one of those holes. It was a trim +little head with a very small bill and a snowy white throat. At +first glance Peter thought it was his old friend, Skimmer the +Tree Swallow, and he was just on the point of asking what under +the sun Skimmer was doing in such a place as that, when with a +lively twitter of greeting the owner of that little hole in the +bank flew out and circled over Peter's head. It wasn't Skimmer at +all. It was Banker the Bank Swallow, own cousin to Skimmer the +Tree Swallow. Peter recognized him the instant he got a full view +of him. + +In the first place Banker was a little smaller than Skimmer. Then +too, he was not nearly so handsome. His back, instead of being +that beautiful rich steel-blue which makes Skimmer so handsome, +was a sober grayish-brown. He was a little darker on his wings +and tail. His breast, instead of being all snowy white, was +crossed with a brownish band. His tail was more nearly square +across the end than is the case with other members of the Swallow +family. + +"Wha--wha--what were you doing there?" stuttered Peter, his eyes +popping right out with curiosity and excitement. + +"Why, that's my home," twittered Banker. + +"Do--do--do you mean to say that you live in a hole in the +ground?" cried Peter. + +"Certainly; why not?" twittered Banker as he snapped up a fly +just over Peter's head. + +"I don't know any reason why you shouldn't," confessed Peter. +"But somehow it is hard for me to think of birds as living in +holes in the ground. I've only just found out that Rattles the +Kingfisher does. But I didn't suppose there were any others. Did +you make that hole yourself, Banker?" + +"Of course," replied Banker. "That is, I helped make it. Mrs. +Banker did her share. 'Way in at the end of it we've got the +nicest little nest of straw and feathers. What is more, we've got +four white eggs in there, and Mrs. Banker is sitting on them +now." + +By this time the air seemed to be full of Banker's friends, +skimming and circling this way and that, and going in and out of +the little holes in the bank. + +"I am like my big cousin, Twitter the Purple Martin, fond of +society," explained Banker. "We Bank Swallows like our homes +close together. You said that you had just learned that Rattles +the Kingfisher has his home in a bank. Do you know where it is?" + +"No, replied Peter. "I was looking for it when I discovered your +home. Can you tell me where it is?" + +"I'll do better than that;" replied Banker. "I'll show you where +it is." + +He darted some distance up along the bank and hovered for an +instant close to the top. Peter scampered over there and looked +up. There, just a few inches below the top, was another hole, a +very much larger hole than those he had just left. As he was +staring up at it a head with a long sharp bill and a crest which +looked as if all the feathers on the top of his head had been +brushed the wrong way, was thrust out. It was Rattles himself. He +didn't seem at all glad to see Peter. In fact, he came out and +darted at Peter angrily. Peter didn't wait to feel that sharp +dagger-like bill. He took to his heels. He had seen what he +started out to find and he was quite content to go home. + +Peter took a short cut across the Green Meadows. It took him past +a certain tall, dead tree. A sharp cry of "Kill-ee, kill-ee, +kill-ee!" caused Peter to look up just in time to see a trim, +handsome bird whose body was about the size of Sammy Jay's but +whose longer wings and longer tail made him look bigger. One +glance was enough to tell Peter that this was a member of the +Hawk family, the smallest of the family. It was Killy the Sparrow +Hawk. He is too small for Peter to fear him, so now Peter was +possessed of nothing more than a very lively curiosity, and sat +up to watch. + +Out over the meadow grass Killy sailed. Suddenly, with beating +wings, he kept himself in one place in the air and then dropped +down into the grass. He was up again in an instant, and Peter +could see that he had a fat grasshopper in his claws. Back to the +top of the tall, dead tree he flew and there ate the grasshopper. +When it was finished he sat up straight and still, so still that +he seemed a part of the tree itself. With those wonderful eyes of +his he was watching for another grasshopper or for a careless +Meadow Mouse. + +Very trim and handsome was Killy. His back was reddish-brown +crossed by bars of black. His tail was reddish-brown with a band +of black near its end and a white tip. His wings were slaty-blue +with little bars of black, the longest feathers leaving white +bars. Underneath he was a beautiful buff, spotted with black. His +head was bluish with a reddish patch right on top. Before and +behind each ear was a black mark. His rather short bill, like the +bills of all the rest of his family, was hooked. + +As Peter sat there admiring Killy, for he was handsome enough for +any one to admire, he noticed for the first time a hole high up +in the trunk of the tree, such a hole as Yellow Wing the Flicker +might have made and probably did make. Right away Peter +remembered what Jenny Wren had told him about Killy's making his +nest in just such a hole. "I wonder," thought Peter, "if that is +Killy's home." + +Just then Killy flew over and dropped in the grass just in front +of Peter, where he caught another fat grasshopper. "Is that your +home up there?" asked Peter hastily. + +"It certainly is, Peter," replied Killy. "This is the third +summer Mrs. Killy and I have had our home there." + +"You seem to be very fond of grasshoppers," Peter ventured. + +"I am," replied Killy. "They are very fine eating when one can +get enough of them." + +"Are they the only kind of food you eat?" ventured Peter. + +Killy laughed. It was a shrill laugh. "I should say not," said +he. "I eat spiders and worms and all sorts of insects big enough +to give a fellow a decent bite. But for real good eating give me +a fat Meadow Mouse. I don't object to a Sparrow or some other +small bird now and then, especially when I have a family of +hungry youngsters to feed. But take it the season through, I live +mostly on grasshoppers and insects and Meadow Mice. I do a lot of +good in this world, I'd have you know." + +Peter said that he supposed that this was so, but all the time he +kept thinking what a pity it was that Killy ever killed his +feathered neighbors. As soon as he conveniently could he politely +bade Killy good-by and hurried home to the dear Old Briar-patch, +there to think over how queer it seemed that a member of the hawk +family should nest in a hollow tree and a member of the Swallow +family should dig a hole in the ground. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII Some Big Mouths. + +Boom! Peter Rabbit jumped as if he had been shot. It was all so +sudden and unexpected that Peter jumped before he had time to +think. Then he looked foolish. He felt foolish. He had been +scared when there was nothing to be afraid of. + +"Ha, ha, ha, ha" tittered Jenny Wren. "What are you jumping for, +Peter Rabbit? That was only Boomer the Nighthawk." + +"I know it just as well as you do, Jenny Wren," retorted Peter +rather crossly. "You know being suddenly startled is apt to make +people feel cross. If I had seen him anywhere about he wouldn't +have made me jump. It was the unexpectedness of it. I don't see +what he is out now for, anyway, It isn't even dusk yet, and I +thought him a night bird." + +"So he is," retorted Jenny Wren. "Anyway, he is a bird of the +evening, and that amounts to the same thing. But just because he +likes the evening best isn't any reason why he shouldn't come out +in the daylight, is it?" + +"No-o," replied Peter rather slowly. "I don't suppose it is." + +"Of course it isn't," declared Jenny Wren. "I see Boomer late in +the afternoon nearly every day. On cloudy days I often see him +early in the afternoon. He's a queer fellow, is Boomer. Such a +mouth as he has! I suppose it is very handy to have a big mouth +if one must catch all one's food in the air, but it certainly +isn't pretty when it is wide open." + +"I never saw a mouth yet that was pretty when it was wide open," +retorted Peter, who was still feeling a little put out. "I've +never noticed that Boomer has a particularly big mouth." + +"Well he has, whether you've noticed it or not," retorted Jenny +Wren sharply. "He's got a little bit of a bill, but a great big +mouth. I don't see what folks call him a Hawk for when he isn't a +Hawk at all. He is no more of a Hawk than I am, and goodness +knows I'm not even related to the Hawk family." + +"I believe you told me the other day that Boomer is related to +Sooty the Chimney Swift," said Peter. + +Jenny nodded vigorously. "So I did, Peter," she replied. "I'm +glad you have such a good memory. Boomer and Sooty are sort of +second cousins. There is Boomer now, way up in the sky. I do wish +he'd dive and scare some one else." + +Peter tipped his head 'way back. High up in the blue, blue sky +was a bird which at that distance looked something like a much +overgrown Swallow. He was circling and darting about this way and +that. Even while Peter watched he half closed his wings and shot +down with such speed that Peter actually held his breath. It +looked very, very much as if Boomer would dash himself to pieces. +Just before he reached the earth he suddenly opened those wings +and turned upward. At the instant he turned, the booming sound +which had so startled Peter was heard. It was made by the rushing +of the wind through the larger feathers of his wings as he +checked himself. + +In this dive Boomer had come near enough for Peter to get a good +look at him. His coat seemed to be a mixture of brown and gray, +very soft looking. His wings were brown with a patch of white on +each. There was a white patch on his throat and a band of white +near the end of his tail. + +"He's rather handsome, don't you think?" asked Jenny Wren. + +"He certainly is," replied Peter. "Do you happen to know what +kind of a nest the Nighthawks build, Jenny?" + +"They don't build any." Jenny Wren was a picture of scorn as she +said this. "They don't built any nests at all. It can't be +because they are lazy for I don't know of any birds that hunt +harder for their living than do Boomer and Mrs. Boomer." + +"But if there isn't any nest where does Mrs. Boomer lay her +eggs?" cried Peter. "I think you must be mistaken, Jenny Wren. +They must have some kind of a nest. Of course they must." + +"Didn't I say they don't have a nest?" sputtered Jenny. "Mrs. +Nighthawk doesn't lay but two eggs, anyway. Perhaps she thinks it +isn't worth while building a nest for just two eggs. Anyway, she +lays them on the ground or on a flat rock and lets it go at that. +She isn't quite as bad as Sally Sly the Cowbird, for she does sit +on those eggs and she is a good mother. But just think of those +Nighthawk children never having any home! It doesn't seem to me +right and it never will. Did you ever see Boomer in a tree?" + +Peter shook his head. "I've seen him on the ground," said he, +"but I never have seen him in a tree. Why did you ask, Jenny +Wren?" + +"To find out how well you have used your eyes," snapped Jenny. "I +just wanted to see if you had noticed anything peculiar about the +way he sits in a tree. But as long as you haven't seen him in a +tree I may as well tell you that he doesn't sit as most birds do. +He sits lengthwise of a branch. He never sits across it as the +rest of us do." + +"How funny!" exclaimed Peter. "I suppose that is Boomer making +that queer noise we hear." + +"Yes," replied Jenny. "He certainly does like to use his voice. +They tell me that some folks call him Bullbat, though why they +should call him either Bat or Hawk is beyond me. I suppose you +know his cousin, Whip-poor-will." + +"I should say I do," replied Peter. "He's enough to drive one +crazy when he begins to shout 'Whip poor Will' close at hand. +That voice of his goes through me so that I want to stop both +ears. There isn't a person of my acquaintance who can say a thing +over and over, over and over, so many times without stopping for +breath. Do I understand that he is cousin to Boomer?" + +"He is a sort of second cousin, the same as Sooty the Chimney +Swift," explained Jenny Wren. "They look enough alike to be own +cousins. Whip-poor-will has just the same kind of a big mouth and +he is dressed very much like Boomer, save that there are no white +patches on his wings." + +"I've noticed that," said Peter. "That is one way I can tell them +apart." + +"So you noticed that much, did you?" cried Jenny. "It does you +credit, Peter. It does you credit. I wonder if you also noticed +Whip-poor-will's whiskers." + +"Whiskers!" cried Peter. "Who ever heard of a bird having +whiskers? You can stuff a lot down me, Jenny Wren, but there are +some things I cannot swallow, and bird whiskers is one of them." + +"Nobody asked you to swallow them. Nobody wants you to swallow +them," snapped Jenny. "I don't know why a bird shouldn't have +whiskers just as well as you, Peter Rabbit. Anyway, +Whip-poor-will has them and that is all there is to it. It doesn't +make any difference whether you believe in them or not, they are +there. And I guess Whip-poor-will finds them just as useful as you +find yours, and a little more so. I know this much, that if I had +to catch all my food in the air I'd want whiskers and lots of them +so that the insects would get tangled in them. I suppose that's +what Whip-poor-will's are for." + +"I beg your pardon, Jenny Wren," said Peter very humbly. "Of +course Whip-poor-will has whiskers if you say so. By the way, do +the Whip-poor-wills do any better in the matter of a nest than +the Nighthawks?" + +"Not a bit," replied Jenny Wren. "Mrs. Whip-poor-will lays her +eggs right on the ground, but usually in the Green Forest where +it is dark and lonesome. Like Mrs. Nighthawk, she lays only two. +It's the same way with another second cousin, Chuck-will's-widow." + +"Who?" cried Peter, wrinkling his brows. + +"Chuck-will's-widow," Jenny Wren fairly shouted it. "Don't you +know Chuck-will's-widow?" + +Peter shook his head. "I never heard of such a bird," he +confessed. + +"That's what comes of never having traveled," retorted Jenny +Wren. "If you'd ever been in the South the way I have you would +know Chuck-will's-widow. He looks a whole lot like the other two +we've been talking about, but has even a bigger mouth. What's +more, he has whiskers with branches. Now you needn't look as if +you doubted that, Peter Rabbit; it's so. In his habits he's just +like his cousins, no nest and only two eggs. I never saw people +so afraid to raise a real family. If the Wrens didn't do better +than that, I don't know what would become of us." You know Jenny +usually has a family of six or eight. + + + +CHAPTER XXIV The Warblers Arrive. + +If there is one family of feathered friends which perplexes Peter +Rabbit more than another, it is the Warbler family. + +"So many of them come together and they move about so constantly +that a fellow doesn't have a chance to look at one long enough +to recognize him," complained Peter to Jenny Wren one morning +when the Old Orchard was fairly alive with little birds no bigger +than Jenny Wren herself. + +And such restless little folks as they were! + +They were not still an instant, flitting from tree to tree, twig +to twig, darting out into the air and all the time keeping up an +endless chattering mingled with little snatches of song. Peter +would no sooner fix his eyes on one than another entirely +different in appearance would take its place. Occasionally he +would see one whom he recognized, one who would stay for the +nesting season. But the majority of them would stop only for a +day or two, being bound farther north to make their summer homes. + +Apparently, Jenny Wren did not look upon them altogether with +favor. Perhaps Jenny was a little bit envious, for compared with +the bright colors of some of them Jenny was a very homely small +person indeed. Then, too, there were so many of them and they +were so busy catching all kinds of small insects that it may be +Jenny was a little fearful they would not leave enough for her to +get her own meals easily. + +"I don't see what they have to stop here for," scolded Jenny. +"They could just as well go somewhere else where they would not +be taking the food out of the mouths of honest folk who are here +to stay all summer. Did you ever in your life see such uneasy +people? They don't keep still an instant. It positively makes me +tired just to watch them." + +Peter couldn't help but chuckle, for Jenny Wren herself is a very +restless and uneasy person. As for Peter, he was thoroughly +enjoying this visit of the Warblers, despite the fact that he was +having no end of trouble trying to tell who was who. Suddenly one +darted down and snapped up a fly almost under Peter's very nose +and was back up in a tree before Peter could get his breath. +"It's Zee Zee the Redstart!" cried Peter joyously. "I would know +Zee Zee anywhere. Do you know who he reminds me of, Jenny Wren?" + +"Who?" demanded Jenny. + +"Goldy the Oriole," replied Peter promptly. "Only of course he's +ever and ever so much smaller. He's all black and orange-red and +white something as Goldy is, only there isn't quite so much +orange on him." + +For just an instant Zee Zee sat still with his tail spread. His +head, throat and back were black and there was a black band +across the end of his tail and a black stripe down the middle of +it. The rest was bright orange-red. On each wing was a band of +orange-red and his sides were the same color. Underneath he was +white tinged more or less with orange. + +It was only for an instant that Zee Zee sat still; then he was in +the air, darting, diving, whirling, going through all sorts of +antics as he caught tiny insects too small for Peter to see. +Peter began to wonder how he kept still long enough to sleep at +night. And his voice was quite as busy as his wings. "Zee, zee, +zee, zee!" he would cry. But this was only one of many notes. At +times he would sing a beautiful little song and then again it +would seem as if he were trying to imitate other members of the +Warbler family. + +"I do hope Zee Zee is going to stay here," said Peter. "I just +love to watch him." + +"He'll stay fast enough," retorted Jenny Wren. "I don't imagine +he'll stay in the Old Orchard and I hope he won't, because if he +does it will make it just that much harder for me to catch enough +to feed my big family. Probably he and Mrs. Redstart will make +their home on the edge of the Green Forest. They like it better +over there, for which I am thankful. There's Mrs Redstart now. +Just notice that where Zee Zee is bright orange-y red she is +yellow, and instead of a black head she has a gray head and her +back is olive-green with a grayish tinge. She isn't nearly as +handsome as Zee Zee, but then, that's not to be expected. She +lets Zee Zee do the singing and the showing off and she does the +work. I expect she'll build that nest with almost no help at all +from him. But Zee Zee is a good father, I'll say that much for +him. He'll do his share in feeding their babies." + +Just then Peter caught sight of a bird all in yellow. He was +about the same size as Zee Zee and was flitting about among the +bushes along the old stone wall. "There's Sunshine!" cried +Peter, and without being polite enough to even bid Jenny Wren +farewell, he scampered over to where he could see the one he +called Sunshine flitting about from bush to bush. + +"Oh, Sunshine!" he cried, as he came within speaking distance, +"I'm ever and ever so glad to see you back. I do hope you and +Mrs. Sunshine are going to make your home somewhere near here +where I can see you every day." + +"Hello, Peter! I am just as glad to see you as you are to see +me," cried Sunshine the Yellow Warbler. "Yes, indeed, we +certainly intend to stay here if we can find just the right place +for our nest. It is lovely to be back here again. We've journeyed +so far that we don't want to go a bit farther if we can help it. +Have you seen Sally Sly the Cowbird around here this spring?" + +Peter nodded. "Yes," said he, "I have." + +"I'm sorry to hear it," declared Sunshine. "She made us a lot of +trouble last year. But we fooled her." + +"How did you fool her?" asked Peter. + +Sunshine paused to pick a tiny worm from a leaf. "Well," said he, +"she found our nest just after we had finished it and before Mrs. +Sunshine had had a chance to lay an egg. Of course you know what +she did." + +"I can guess," replied Peter. "She laid one of her own eggs in +your nest." + +Sunshine stopped to pick two or three more worms from the leaves. +"Yes," said he. "She did just that, the lazy good-for-nothing +creature! But it didn't do her a bit of good, not a bit. That egg +never hatched. We fooled her and that's what we'll do again if +she repeats that trick this year." + +"What did you do, throw that egg out?" asked Peter. + +"No," replied Sunshine. "Our nest was too deep for us to get that +egg out. We just made a second bottom in our nest right over that +egg and built the sides of the nest a little higher. Then we took +good care that she didn't have a chance to lay another egg in +there." + +"Then you had a regular two-story nest, didn't you?" cried Peter, +opening his eyes very wide. + +Sunshine nodded. "Yes, sir," said he, "and it was a mighty fine +nest, if I do say it. If there's anything Mrs. Sunshine and I +pride ourselves on it is our nest. There are no babies who have a +softer, cozier home than ours." + +"What do you make your nest of?" asked Peter. + +"Fine grasses and soft fibers from plants, some hair when we can +find it, and a few feathers. But we always use a lot of that nice +soft fern-cotton. There is nothing softer or nicer that I know +of." + +All the time Peter had been admiring Sunshine and thinking how +wonderfully well he was named. At first glance he seemed to be +all yellow, as if somehow he had managed to catch and hold the +sunshine in his feathers. There wasn't a white feather on him. +When he came very close Peter could see that on his breast and +underneath were little streaks of reddish brown and his wings and +tail were a little blackish. Otherwise he was all yellow. + +Presently he was joined by Mrs. Sunshine. She was not such a +bright yellow as was Sunshine, having an olive-green tint on her +back. But underneath she was almost clear yellow without the +reddish-brown streaks. She too was glad to see Peter but +couldn't stop to gossip, for already, as she informed Sunshine, +she had found just the place for their nest. Of course Peter +begged to be told where it was. But the two little folks in +yellow snapped their bright eyes at him and told him that that +was their secret and they didn't propose to tell a living soul. + +Perhaps if Peter had not been so curious and eager to get +acquainted with other members of the Warbler family he would have +stayed and done a little spying. As it was, he promised himself +to come back to look for that nest after it had been built; then +he scurried back among the trees of the Old Orchard to look for +other friends among the busy little Warblers who were making the +Old Orchard such a lively place that morning. + +"There's one thing about it," cried Peter. "Any one can tell Zee +Zee the Redstart by his black and flame colored suit. There is no +other like it. And any one can tell Sunshine the Yellow Warbler +because there isn't anybody else who seems to be all yellow. My, +what a lively, lovely lot these Warblers are!" + + + +CHAPTER XXV Three Cousins Quite Unlike. + +As Peter Rabbit passed one of the apple-trees in the Old Orchard, +a thin, wiry voice hailed him. "It's a wonder you wouldn't at +least say you're glad to see me back, Peter Rabbit," said the +voice. + +Peter, who had been hopping along rather fast, stopped abruptly +to look up. Running along a limb just over his head, now on top +and now underneath, was a little bird with a black and white +striped coat and a white waistcoat. Just as Peter looked it flew +down to near the base of the tree and began to run straight up +the trunk, picking things from the bark here and there as it ran. +Its way of going up that tree trunk reminded Peter of one of his +winter friends, Seep Seep the Brown Creeper. + +"It strikes me that this is a mighty poor welcome for one who has +just come all the way from South America," said the little black +and white bird with twinkling eyes. + +"Oh, Creeper, I didn't know you were here!" cried Peter. "You +know I'm glad to see you. I'm just as glad as glad can be. You +are such a quiet fellow I'm afraid I shouldn't have seen you at +all if you hadn't spoken. You know it's always been hard work for +me to believe that you are really and truly a Warbler." + +"Why so?" demanded Creeper the Black and White Warbler, for that +is the name by which he is commonly known. "Why so? Don't I look +like a Warbler?" + +"Ye-es," said Peter slowly. "You do look like one but you don't +act like one." + +"In what way don't I act like one I should like to know?" +demanded Creeper. + +"Well," replied Peter, "all the rest of the Warblers are the +uneasiest folks I know of. They can't seem to keep still a +minute. They are everlastingly flitting about this way and that +way and the other way. I actually get tired watching them. But +you are not a bit that way. Then the way you run up tree trunks +and along the limbs isn't a bit Warbler-like. Why don't you flit +and dart about as the others do?" + +Creeper's bright eyes sparkled. + +"I don't have to," said he. "I'm going to let you into a little +secret, Peter. The rest of them get their living from the leaves +and twigs and in the air, but I've discovered an easier way. I've +found out that there are lots of little worms and insects and +eggs on the trunks and big limbs of the trees and that I can get +the best kind of a living there without flitting about +everlastingly. I don't have to share them with anybody but the +Woodpeckers, Nuthatches, and Tommy Tit the Chickadee." + +"That reminds me," said Peter. "Those folks you have mentioned +nest in holes in trees; do you?" + +"I should say not," retorted Creeper. "I don't know of any +Warbler who does. I build on the ground, if you want to know. I +nest in the Green Forest. Sometimes I make my nest in a little +hollow at the base of a tree; sometimes I put it under a stump or +rock or tuck it in under the roots of a tree that has been blown +over. But there, Peter Rabbit, I've talked enough. I'm glad +you're glad that I'm back, and I'm glad I'm back too." + +Creeper continued on up the trunk of the tree, picking here and +picking there. Just then Peter caught sight of another friend +whom he could always tell by the black mask he wore. It was +Mummer the Yellow-throat. He had just darted into the thicket of +bushes along the old stone wall. Peter promptly hurried over +there to look for him. + +When Peter reached the place where he had caught a glimpse of +Mummer, no one was to be seen. Peter sat down, uncertain which +way to go. Suddenly Mummer popped out right in front of Peter, +seemingly from nowhere at all. His throat and breast were bright +yellow and his back wings and tail a soft olive-green. But the +most remarkable thing about him was the mask of black right +across his cheeks, eyes and forehead. At least it looked like a +mask, although it really wasn't one. + +"Hello, Mummer!" cried Peter. + +"Hello yourself, Peter Rabbit!" retorted Mummer and then +disappeared as suddenly as he had appeared. + +Peter blinked and looked in vain all about. + +"Looking for some one?" asked Mummer, suddenly popping into view +where Peter least expected him. + +"For goodness' sake, can't you sit still a minute?" cried Peter. +"How do you expect a fellow can talk to you when he can't keep +his eyes on you more than two seconds at a time." + +"Who asked you to talk to me?" responded Mummer, and popped out +of sight. Two seconds later he was back again and his bright +little eyes fairly shone with mischief. Then before Peter could +say a word Mummer burst into a pleasant little song. He was so +full of happiness that Peter couldn't be cross with him. + +"There's one thing I like about you, Mummer," declared Peter, +"and that is that I never get you mixed up with anybody else. I +should know you just as far as I could see you because of that +black mask across your face. Has Mrs. Yellow-throat arrived yet?" + +"Certainly," replied another voice, and Mrs. Yellow-throat +flitted across right in front of Peter. For just a second she sat +still, long enough for him to have one good look at her. She was +dressed very like Mummer save that she did not wear the black +mask. + +Peter was just about to say something polite and pleasant when +from just back of him there sounded a loud, very emphatic, "Chut! +Chut!" Peter whirled about to find another old friend. It was +Chut-Chut the Yellow-breasted Chat, the largest of the Warbler +family. He was so much bigger than Mummer that it was hard to +believe that they were own cousins. But Peter knew they were, and +he also knew that he could never mistake Chut-Chut for any other +member of the family because of his big size, which was that of +some of the members of the Sparrow family. His back was a dark +olive-green, but his throat and breast were a beautiful bright +yellow. There was a broad white line above each eye and a little +white line underneath. Below his breast he was all white. + +To have seen him you would have thought that he suspected Peter +might do him some harm. He acted that way. If Peter hadn't known +him so well he might have been offended. But Peter knew that +there is no one among his feathered friends more cautious than +Chut-Chut the Chat. He never takes anything for granted. He +appears to be always on the watch for danger, even to the extent +of suspecting his very best friends. + +When he had decided in his own mind that there was no danger, +Chut-Chut came out for a little gossip. But like all the rest of +the Warblers he couldn't keep still. Right in the middle of the +story of his travels from far-away Mexico he flew to the top of a +little tree, began to sing, then flew out into the air with his +legs dangling and his tail wagging up and down in the funniest +way, and there continued his song as he slowly dropped down into +the thicket again. It was a beautiful song and Peter hastened to +tell him so. + +Chut-Chut was pleased. He showed it by giving a little concert +all by himself. It seemed to Peter that he never had heard such a +variety of whistles and calls and songs as came from that yellow +throat. When it was over Chut-Chut abruptly said good-by and +disappeared. Peter could hear his sharp "Chut! Chut!" farther +along in the thicket as he hunted for worms among the bushes. + +"I wonder," said Peter, speaking out loud without thinking, +"where he builds his nest. I wonder if he builds it on the +ground, the way Creeper does." + +"No," declared Mummer, who all the time had been darting about +close at hand. "He doesn't, but I do. Chut-Chut puts his nest +near the ground, however, usually within two or three feet. He +builds it in bushes or briars. Sometimes if I can find a good +tangle of briars I build my nest in it several feet from the +ground, but as a rule I would rather have it on the ground under +a bush or in a clump of weeds. Have you seen my cousin Sprite the +Parula Warbler, yet?" + +"Not yet," said Peter, as he started for home. + + + +CHAPTER XXVI Peter Gets a Lame Neck. + +For several days it seemed to Peter Rabbit that everywhere he +went he found members of the Warbler family. Being anxious to +know all of them he did his best to remember how each one looked, +but there were so many and some of them were dressed so nearly +alike that after awhile Peter became so mixed that he gave it up +as a bad job. Then, as suddenly as they had appeared, the +Warblers disappeared. That is to say, most of them disappeared. +You see they had only stopped for a visit, being on their way +farther north. + +In his interest in the affairs of others of his feathered +friends, Peter had quite forgotten the Warblers. Then one day +when he was in the Green Forest where the spruce-trees grow, he +stopped to rest. This particular part of the Green Forest was low +and damp, and on many of the trees gray moss grew, hanging down +from the branches and making the trees look much older than they +really were. Peter was staring at a hanging branch of this moss +without thinking anything about it when suddenly a little bird +alighted on it and disappeared in it. At least, that is what +Peter thought. But it was all so unexpected that he couldn't be +sure his eyes hadn't fooled him. + +Of course, right away he became very much interested in that +bunch of moss. He stared at it very hard. At first it looked no +different from a dozen other bunches of moss, but presently he +noticed that it was a little thicker than other bunches, as if +somehow it had been woven together. He hopped off to one side so +he could see better. It looked as if in one side of that bunch of +moss was a little round hole. Peter blinked and looked very hard +indeed to make sure. A minute later there was no doubt at all, +for a little feathered head was poked out and a second later a +dainty mite of a bird flew out and alighted very close to Peter. +It was one of the smaller members of the Warbler family. + +"Sprite!" cried Peter joyously. "I missed you when your cousins +passed through here, and I thought you had gone to the Far North +with the rest of them." + +"Well, I haven't, and what's more I'm not going to go on to the +Far North. I'm going to stay right here," declared Sprite the +Parula Warbler, for that is who it was. + +As Peter looked at Sprite he couldn't help thinking that there +wasn't a daintier member in the whole Warbler family. His coat +was of a soft bluish color with a yellowish patch in the very +center of his back. Across each wing were two bars of white. His +throat was yellow. Just beneath it was a little band of +bluish-black. His breast was yellow and his sides were grayish +and brownish-chestnut. + +"Sprite, you're just beautiful," declared Peter in frank +admiration. "What was the reason I didn't see you up in the Old +Orchard with your cousins?" + +"Because I wasn't there," was Sprite's prompt reply as he flitted +about, quite unable to sit still a minute. "I wasn't there +because I like the Green Forest better, so I came straight here." + +"What were you doing just now in that bunch of moss?" demanded +Peter, a sudden suspicion of the truth hopping into his head. + +"Just looking it over," replied Sprite, trying to look innocent. + +At that very instant Peter looked up just in time to see a tail +disappearing in the little round hole in the side of the bunch of +moss. He knew that that tail belonged to Mrs. Sprite, and just +that glimpse told him all he wanted to know. + +"You've got a nest in there!" Peter exclaimed excitedly. "There's +no use denying it, Sprite; you've got a nest in there! What a +perfectly lovely place for a nest." + +Sprite saw at once that it would be quite useless to try to +deceive Peter. "Yes," said he, "Mrs. Sprite and I have a nest in +there. We've just finished it. I think myself it is rather nice. +We always build in moss like this. All we have to do is to find a +nice thick bunch and then weave it together at the bottom and +line the inside with fine grasses. It looks so much like all the +rest of the bunches of moss that it is seldom any one finds it. I +wouldn't trade nests with anybody I know." + +"Isn't it rather lonesome over here by yourselves?" asked Peter. + +"Not at all," replied Sprite. "You see, we are not as much alone +as you think. My cousin, Fidget the Myrtle Warbler, is nesting +not very far away, and another cousin Weechi the Magnolia Warbler +is also quite near. Both have begun housekeeping already." + +Of course Peter was all excitement and interest at once. "Where +are their homes?" he asked eagerly. "Tell me where they are and +I'll go straight over and call." + +"Peter," said Sprite severely, "you ought to know better than to +ask me to tell you anything of this kind. You have been around +enough to know that there is no secret so precious as the secret +of a home. You happened to find mine, and I guess I can trust you +not to tell anybody where it is. If you can find the homes of +Fidget and Weechi, all right, but I certainly don't intend to +tell you where they are." + +Peter knew that Sprite was quite right in refusing to tell the +secrets of his cousins, but he couldn't think of going home +without at least looking for those homes. He tried to look very +innocent as he asked if they also were in hanging bunches of +moss. But Sprite was too smart to be fooled and Peter learned +nothing at all. + +For some time Peter hopped around this way and that way, thinking +every bunch of moss he saw must surely contain a nest. But though +he looked and looked and looked, not another little round hole +did he find, and there were so many bunches of moss that finally +his neck ached from tipping his head back so much. Now Peter +hasn't much patience as he might have, so after a while he gave +up the search and started on his way home. On higher ground, just +above the low swampy place where grew the moss-covered trees, he +came to a lot of young hemlock-trees. These had no moss on them. +Having given up his search Peter was thinking of other things +when there flitted across in front of him a black and gray bird +with a yellow cap, yellow sides, and a yellow patch at the root +of his tail. Those yellow patches were all Peter needed to see to +recognize Fidget the Myrtle Warbler, one of the two friends he +had been so long looking for down among the moss-covered trees. + +"Oh, Fidget!" cried Peter, hurrying after the restless little +bird. "Oh, Fidget! I've been looking everywhere for you." + +"Well, here I am," retorted Fidget. "You didn't look everywhere +or you would have found me before. What can I do for you?" All +the time Fidget was hopping and flitting about, never still an +instant. + +"Yon can tell me where your nest is," replied Peter promptly. + +"I can, but I won't," retorted Fidget. "Now honestly, Peter, do +yon think you have any business to ask such a question?" + +Peter hung his head and then replied quite honestly, "No I don't, +Fidget. But you see Sprite told me that you had a nest not very +far from his and I've looked at bunches of moss until I've got a +crick in the back of my neck." + +"Bunches of moss!" exclaimed Fidget. "What under the sun do you +think I have to do with bunches of moss?" + +"Why--why--I just thought you probably had your nest in one, the +same as your cousin Sprite." + +Fidget laughed right out. "I'm afraid you would have a worse +crick in the back of your neck than you've got now before ever +you found my nest in a bunch of moss," said he. "Moss may suit my +cousin Sprite, but it doesn't suit me at all. Besides, I don't +like those dark places where the moss grows on the trees. I build +my nest of twigs and grass and weed-stalks and I line it with +hair and rootlets and feathers. Sometimes I bind it together with +spider silk, and if you really want to know, I like a little +hemlock-tree to put it in. It isn't very far from here, but where +it is I'm not going to tell you. Have you seen my cousin, Weechi?" + +"No," replied Peter. "Is he anywhere around here?" + +"Right here," replied another voice and Weechi the Magnolia +Warbler dropped down on the ground for just a second right in +front of Peter. + +The top of his head and the back of his neck were gray. Above his +eye was a white stripe and his cheeks were black. His throat was +clear yellow, just below which was a black band. From this black +streaks ran down across his yellow breast. At the root of his +tail he was yellow. His tail was mostly black on top and white +underneath. + +His wings were black and gray with two white bars. He was a +little smaller than Fidget the Myrtle Warbler and quite as +restless. + +Peter fairly itched to ask Weechi where his nest was, but by this +time he had learned a lesson, so wisely kept his tongue still. + +"What were you fellows talking about?" asked Weechi. + +"Nests," replied Fidget. "I've just been telling Peter that while +Cousin Sprite may like to build in that hanging moss down there, +it wouldn't suit me at all." + +"Nor me either," declared Weechi promptly. "I prefer to build a +real nest just as you do. By the way, Fidget, I stopped to look +at your nest this morning. I find we build a good deal alike and +we like the same sort of a place to put it. I suppose you know +that I am a rather near neighbor of yours?" + +"Of course I know it," replied Fidget. "In fact I watched you +start your nest. Don't you think you have it rather near the +ground?" + +"Not too near, Fidget; not too near. I am not as high-minded as +some people. I like to be within two or three feet of the +ground." + +"I do myself," replied Fidget. + +Fidget and Weechi became so interested in discussing nests and +the proper way of building them they quite forgot Peter Rabbit. +Peter sat around for a while listening, but being more interested +in seeing those nests than hearing about them, he finally stole +away to look for them. + +He looked and looked, but there were so many young hemlock-trees +and they looked so much alike that finally Peter lost patience +and gave it up as a bad job. + + + +CHAPTER XXVII A New Friend and an Old One. + +Peter Rabbit never will forget the first time he caught a glimpse +of Glory the Cardinal, sometimes called Redbird. He had come up +to the Old Orchard for his usual morning visit and just as he +hopped over the old stone wall he heard a beautiful clear, loud +whistle which drew his eyes to the top of an apple-tree. Peter +stopped short with a little gasp of sheer astonishment and +delight. Then he rubbed his eyes and looked again. He couldn't +quite believe that he saw what he thought he saw. He hadn't +supposed that any one, even among the feathered folks, could be +quite so beautiful. + +The stranger was dressed all in red, excepting a little black +around the base of his bill. Even his bill was red. He wore a +beautiful red crest which made him still more distinguished +looking, and how he could sing! Peter had noticed that quite +often the most beautifully dressed birds have the poorest songs. +But this stranger's song was as beautiful as his coat, and that +was one of the most beautiful, if not the most beautiful, that +Peter ever had seen. Of course he lost no time in hunting up +Jenny Wren. "Who is it, Jenny? Who is that beautiful stranger +with such a lovely song?" cried Peter, as soon as he caught sight +of Jenny. + +"It's Glory the Cardinal," replied Jenny Wren promptly. "Isn't he +the loveliest thing you've ever seen? I do hope he is going to +stay here. As I said before, I don't often envy any one's fine +clothes, but when I see Glory I'm sometimes tempted to be +envious. If I were Mrs. Cardinal I'm afraid I should be jealous. +There she is in the very same tree with him. Did you ever see +such a difference?" + +Peter looked eagerly. Instead of the glorious red of Glory, Mrs. +Cardinal wore a very dull dress. Her back was a brownish-gray. +Her throat was a grayish-black. Her breast was a dull buff with a +faint tinge of red. Her wings and tail were tinged with dull red. +Altogether she was very soberly dressed, but a trim, neat looking +little person. But if she wasn't handsomely dressed she could +sing. In fact she was almost as good a singer as her handsome +husband. + +"I've noticed," said Peter, "that people with fine clothes spend +most of their time thinking about them and are of very little use +when it comes to real work in life." + +"Well, you needn't think that of Glory," declared Jenny in her +vigorous way. "He's just as fine as he is handsome. He's a model +husband. If they make their home around here you'll find him +doing his full share in the care of their babies. Sometimes they +raise two families. When they do that, Glory takes charge of the +first lot of youngsters as soon as they are able to leave the +nest so that Mrs. Cardinal has nothing to worry about while she +is sitting on the second lot of eggs. He fusses over them as if +they were the only children in the world. Everybody loves Glory. +Excuse me, Peter, I'm going over to find out if they are really +going to stay." + +When Jenny returned she was so excited she couldn't keep still a +minute. "They like here, Peter!" she cried. "They like here so +much that if they can find a place to suit them for a nest +they're going to stay. I told them that it is the very best place +in the world. They like an evergreen tree to build in, and I +think they've got their eyes on those evergreens up near Farmer +Brown's house. My, they will add a lot to the quality of this +neighborhood." + +Mr. and Mrs. Cardinal whistled and sang as if their hearts were +bursting with joy, and Peter sat around listening as if he had +nothing else in the world to do. Probably he would have sat there +the rest of the morning had he not caught sight of an old friend +of whom he is very fond, Kitty the Catbird. In contrast with +Glory, Kitty seemed a regular little Quaker, for he was dressed +almost wholly in gray, a rather dark, slaty-gray. The top of his +head and tail were black, and right at the base of his tail was a +patch of chestnut color. He was a little smaller than Welcome +Robin. There was no danger of mistaking him for anybody else, for +there is no one dressed at all like him. + +Peter forgot all about Glory in his pleasure at discovering the +returned Kitty and hurried over to welcome him. Kitty had +disappeared among the bushes along the old stone wall, but Peter +had no trouble in finding him by the queer cries he was uttering, +which were very like the meow of Black Pussy the Cat. They were +very harsh and unpleasant and Peter understood perfectly why +their maker is called the Catbird. He did not hurry in among the +bushes at once but waited expectantly. In a few minutes the harsh +cries ceased and then there came from the very same place a song +which seemed to be made up of parts of the songs of all the other +birds of the Old Orchard. It was not loud, but it was charming. +It contained the clear whistle of Glory, and there was even the +tinkle of Little Friend the Song Sparrow. The notes of other +friends were in that song, and with them were notes of southern +birds whose songs Kitty had learned while spending the winter in +the South. Then there were notes all his own. + +Peter listened until the song ended, then scampered in among the +bushes. At once those harsh cries broke out again. You would have +thought that Kitty was scolding Peter for coming to see him +instead of being glad. But that was just Kitty's way. He is +simply brimming over with fun and mischief, and delights to +pretend. + +When Peter found him, he was sitting with all his feathers puffed +out until he looked almost like a ball with a head and tail. He +looked positively sleepy. Then as he caught sight of Peter he +drew those feathers down tight, cocked his tail up after the +manner of Jenny Wren, and was as slim and trim looking as any +bird of Peter's acquaintance. He didn't look at all like the same +bird of the moment before. Then he dropped his tail as if he +hadn't strength enough to hold it up at all. It hung straight +down. He dropped his wings and all in a second made himself look +fairly disreputable. But all the time his eyes were twinkling and +snapping, and Peter knew that these changes in appearance were +made out of pure fun and mischief. + +"I've been wondering if you were coming hack," cried Peter. "I +don't know of any one of my feathered friends I would miss so +much as you." + +"Thank you," responded Kitty. "It's very nice of you to say that, +Peter. If you are glad to see me I am still more glad to get +back." + +"Did you pass a pleasant winter down South?" asked Peter. + +"Fairly so. Fairly so," replied Kitty. "By the way, Peter, I +picked up some new songs down there. Would you like to hear +them?" + +"Of course," replied Peter, "but I don't think you need any new +songs. I've never seen such a fellow for picking up other +people's songs excepting Mocker the Mockingbird." + +At the mention of Mocker a little cloud crossed Kitty's face for +just an instant. "There's a fellow I really envy," said he. "I'm +pretty good at imitating others, but Mocker is better. I'm hoping +that, if I practice enough, some day I can be as good. I saw a +lot of him in the South and he certainly is clever." + +"Huh! You don't need to envy him," retorted Peter. "You are some +imitator yourself. How about those new notes you got when you +were in the South?" + +Kitty's face cleared, his throat swelled and he began to sing. It +was a regular medley. It didn't seem as if so many notes could +come from one throat. When it ended Peter had a question all +ready. + +"Are you going to build somewhere near here?" he asked. + +"I certainly am," replied Kitty. "Mrs. Catbird was delayed a day +or two. I hope she'll get here to-day and then we'll get busy at +once. I think we shall build in these bushes here somewhere. I'm +glad Farmer Brown has sense enough to let them grow. They are +just the kind of a place I like for a nest. They are near enough +to Farmer Brown's garden, and the Old Orchard is right here. +That's just the kind of a combination that suits me." + +Peter looked somewhat uncertain. "Why do you want to be near +Farmer Brown's garden?" he asked. + +"Because that is where I will get a good part of my living," +Kitty responded promptly. "He ought to be glad to have me about. +Once in a while I take a little fruit, but I pay for it ten times +over by the number of bugs and worms I get in his garden and the +Old Orchard. I pride myself on being useful. There's nothing like +being useful in this world, Peter." + +Peter nodded as if he quite agreed. Though, as you know and I +know, Peter himself does very little except fill his own big +stomach. + + + +CHAPTER XXVIII Peter Sees Rosebreast and Finds Redcoat. + +"Who's that?" Peter Rabbit pricked up his long ears and stared up +at the tops of the trees of the Old Orchard. + +Instantly Jenny Wren popped her head out of her doorway. She +cocked her head on one side to listen, then looked down at Peter, +and her sharp little eyes snapped. + +"I don't hear any strange voice," said she. "The way you are +staring, Peter Rabbit, one would think that you had really heard +something new and worth while." + +Just then there were two or three rather sharp, squeaky notes +from the top of one of the trees. "There!" cried Peter. "There! +Didn't you hear that, Jenny Wren?" + +"For goodness' sake, Peter Rabbit, you don't mean to say you +don't know whose voice that is," she cried. "That's Rosebreast. +He and Mrs. Rosebreast have been here for quite a little while. +I didn't suppose there was any one who didn't know those sharp, +squeaky voices. They rather get on my nerves. What anybody wants +to squeak like that for when they can sing as Rosebreast can, is +more than I can understand." + +At that very instant Mr. Wren began to scold as only he and Jenny +can. Peter looked up at Jenny and winked slyly. "And what anybody +wants to scold like that for when they can sing as Mr. Wren can, +is too much for me," retorted Peter. "But you haven't told me who +Rosebreast is." + +"The Grosbeak, of course, stupid," sputtered Jenny. "If you don't +know Rosebreast the Grosbeak, Peter Rabbit, you certainly must +have been blind and deaf ever since you were born. Listen to +that! Just listen to that song!" + +Peter listened. There were many songs, for it was a very +beautiful morning and all the singers of the Old Orchard were +pouring out the joy that was within them. One song was a little +louder and clearer than the others because it came from a tree +very close at hand, the very tree from which those squeaky notes +had come just a few minutes before. Peter suspected that that +must be the song Jenny Wren meant. He looked puzzled. He was +puzzled. "Do you mean Welcome Robin's song?" he asked rather +sheepishly, for he had a feeling that he would be the victim of +Jenny Wren's sharp tongue. + +"No, I don't mean Welcome Robin's song," snapped Jenny. "What +good are a pair of long ears if they can't tell one song from +another? That song may sound something like Welcome Robin's, but +if your ears were good for anything at all you'd know right away +that that isn't Welcome Robin singing. That's a better song than +Welcome Robin's. Welcome Robin's song is one of good cheer, but +this one is of pure happiness. I wouldn't have a pair of ears +like yours for anything in the world, Peter Rabbit." + +Peter laughed right out as he tried to picture to himself Jenny +Wren with a pair of long ears like his. "What are you laughing +at?" demanded Jenny crossly. "Don't you dare laugh at me! If +there is any one thing I can't stand it is being laughed at." + +"I wasn't laughing at you," replied Peter very meekly. "I was +just laughing, at the thought of how funny you would look with a +pair of long ears like mine. Now you speak of it, Jenny, that +song IS quite different from Welcome Robin's." + +"Of course it is," retorted Jenny. "That is Rosebreast singing up +there, and there he is right in the top of that tree. Isn't he +handsome?" + +Peter looked up to see a bird a little smaller than Welcome +Robin. His head, throat and back were black. His wings were black +with patches of white on them. But it was his breast that made +Peter catch his breath with a little gasp of admiration, for that +breast was a beautiful rose-red. The rest of him underneath was +white. It was Rosebreast the Grosbeak. + +"Isn't he lovely!"' cried Peter, and added in the next breath, +"Who is that with him?" + +"Mrs. Grosbeak, of course. Who else would it be?" sputtered Jenny +rather crossly, for she was still a little put out because she +had been laughed at. + +"I would never have guessed it," said Peter. "She doesn't look +the least bit like him." + +This was quite true. There was no beautiful rose color about Mrs. +Grosbeak. She was dressed chiefly in brown and grayish colors +with a little buff here and there and with dark streaks on her +breast. Over each eye was a whitish line. Altogether she looked +more as if she might be a big member of the Sparrow family than +the wife of handsome Rosebreast. While Rosebreast sang, Mrs. +Grosbeak was very busily picking buds and blossoms from the tree. + +"What is she doing that for?" inquired Peter. + +"For the same reason that you bite off sweet clover blossoms and +leaves," replied Jenny Wren tartly. + +"Do you mean to say that they live on buds and blossoms?" cried +Peter. "I never heard of such a thing." + +"Tut, tut, tut, tut, tut! You can ask more silly questions than +anybody of my acquaintance," retorted Jenny Wren. "Of course they +don't live on buds and blossoms. If they did they would soon +starve to death, for buds and blossoms don't last long. They eat +a few just for variety, but they live mostly on bugs and insects. +You ask Farmer Brown's boy who helps him most in his potato +patch, and he'll tell you it's the Grosbeaks. They certainly do +love potato bugs. They eat some fruit, but on the whole they are +about as useful around a garden as any one I know. Now run along, +Peter Rabbit, and don't bother me any more. + +Seeing Farmer Brown's boy coming through the Old Orchard Peter +decided that it was high time for him to depart. So he scampered +for the Green Forest, lipperty-lipperty-lip. Just within the edge +of the Green Forest he caught sight of something which for the +time being put all thought of Farmer Brown's boy out of his head. +Fluttering on the ground was a bird than whom not even Glory the +Cardinal was more beautiful. It was about the size of Redwing the +Blackbird. Wings and tail were pure black and all the rest was a +beautiful scarlet. It was Redcoat the Tanager. At first Peter had +eyes only for the wonderful beauty of Redcoat. Never before had +he seen Redcoat so close at hand. Then quite suddenly it came +over Peter that something was wrong with Redcoat, and he hurried +forward to see what the trouble might be. + +Redcoat heard the rustle of Peter's feet among the dry leaves and +at once began to flap and flutter in an effort to fly away, but +he could not get off the ground. "What is it, Redcoat? Has +something happened to you? It is just Peter Rabbit. You don't +have anything to fear from me," cried Peter. + +The look of terror which had been in the eyes of Redcoat died +out, and he stopped fluttering and simply lay panting. + +"Oh, Peter," he gasped, "you don't know how glad I am that it is +only you. I've had a terrible accident, and I don't know what I +am to do. I can't fly, and if I have to stay on the ground some +enemy will be sure to get me. What shall I do, Peter? What shall +I do?" + +Right away Peter was full of sympathy. "What kind of an accident +was it, Redcoat, and how did it happen?" he asked. + +"Broadwing the Hawk tried to catch me," sobbed Redcoat. "In +dodging him among the trees I was heedless for a moment and did +not see just where I was going. I struck a sharp-pointed dead +twig and drove it right through my right wing." + +Redcoat held up his right wing and sure enough there was a little +stick projecting from both sides close up to the shoulder. The +wing was bleeding a little. + +"Oh, dear, whatever shall I do, Peter Rabbit? Whatever shall I +do?" sobbed Redcoat. + +"Does it pain you dreadfully?" asked Peter. + +Redcoat nodded. "But I don't mind the pain," he hastened to say. +"It is the thought of what MAY happen to me." + +Meanwhile Mrs. Tanager was flying about in the tree tops near at +hand and calling anxiously. She was dressed almost wholly in +light olive-green and greenish-yellow. She looked no more like +beautiful Redcoat than did Mrs. Grosbeak like Rosebreast. + +"Can't you fly up just a little way so as to get off the ground?" +she cried anxiously. "Isn't it dreadful, Peter Rabbit, to have +such an accident? We've just got our nest half built, and I don't +know what I shall do if anything happens to Redcoat. Oh, dear, +here comes somebody! Hide, Redcoat! Hide!" Mrs. Tanager flew off +a short distance to one side and began to cry as if in the +greatest distress. Peter knew instantly that she was crying to +get the attention of whoever was coming. + +Poor Redcoat, with the old look of terror in his eyes, fluttered +along, trying to find something under which to hide. But there +was nothing under which he could crawl, and there was no hiding +that wonderful red coat. Peter heard the sound of heavy +footsteps, and looking back, saw that Farmer Brown's boy was +coming. "Don't be afraid, Redcoat," he whispered. "It's Farmer +Brown's boy and I'm sure he won't hurt you. Perhaps he can help +you." Then Peter scampered off for a short distance and sat up to +watch what would happen. + +Of coarse Farmer Brown's boy saw Redcoat. No one with any eyes at +all could have helped seeing him, because of that wonderful +scarlet coat. He saw, too, by the way Redcoat was acting, that he +was in great trouble. As Farmer Brown's boy drew near and Redcoat +saw that he was discovered, he tried his hardest to flutter away. +Farmer Brown's boy understood instantly that something was wrong +with one wing, and running forward, he caught Redcoat. + +"You poor little thing. You poor, beautiful little creature," +said Farmer Brown's boy softly as he saw the cruel twig sticking +through Redcoats' shoulder. "We'll have to get that out right +away," continued Farmer Brown's boy, stroking Redcoat ever so +gently. + +Somehow at that gentle touch Redcoat lost much of his fear, and a +little hope sprang in his heart. He saw, too, this was no enemy, +but a friend. Farmer Brown's boy took out his knife and carefully +cut off the twig on the upper side of the wing. Then, doing his +best to be careful and to hurt as little as possible, he worked +the other part of the twig out from the under side. Carefully he +examined the wing to see if any bones were broken. None were, and +after holding Redcoat a few minutes he carefully set him up in a +tree and withdrew a short distance. Redcoat hopped from branch to +branch until he was halfway up the tree. Then he sat there for +some time as if fearful of trying that injured wing. Meanwhile +Mrs. Tanager came and fussed about him and talked to him and +coaxed him and made as much of him as if he were a baby. + +Peter remained right where he was until at last he saw Redcoat +spread his black wings and fly to another tree. From tree to tree +he flew, resting a bit in each until he and Mrs. Tanager +disappeared in the Green Forest. + +"I knew Farmer Brown's boy would help him, and I'm so glad he +found him," cried Peter happily and started for the dear Old +Briar-patch. + + + +CHAPTER XXIX The Constant Singers. + +Over in a maple-tree on the edge of Farmer Brown's door yard +lived Mr. and Mrs. Redeye the Vireos. Peter Rabbit knew that they +had a nest there because Jenny Wren had told him so. He would +have guessed it anyway, because Redeye spent so much time in that +tree during the nesting season. No matter what hour of the day +Peter visited the Old Orchard he heard Redeye singing over in the +maple-tree. Peter used to think that if song is an expression of +happiness, Redeye must be the happiest of all birds. + +He was a little fellow about the size of one of the larger +Warblers and quite as modestly dressed as any of Peter's +acquaintances. The crown of his head was gray with a little +blackish border on either side. Over each eye was a white line. +Underneath he was white. For the rest he was dressed in light +olive-green. The first time he came down near enough for Peter to +see him well Peter understood at once why he is called Redeye. +His eyes were red. Yes, sir, his eyes were red and this fact +alone was enough to distinguish him from any other members of his +family. + +But it wasn't often that Redeye came down so near the ground that +Peter could see his eyes. He preferred to spend most of his time +in the tree tops, and Peter only got glimpses of him now and +then. But if he didn't see him often it was less often that he +failed to hear him. "I don't see when Redeye finds time to eat," +declared Peter as he listened to the seemingly unending song in +the maple-tree. + +"Redeye believes in singing while he works," said Jenny Wren. +"For my part I should think he'd wear his throat out. When other +birds sing they don't do anything else, but Redeye sings all the +time he is hunting his meals and only stops long enough to +swallow a worm or a bug when he finds it. Just as soon as it is +down he begins to sing again while he hunts for another. I must +say for the Redeyes that they are mighty good nest builders. Have +you seen their nest over in that maple-tree, Peter?" + +Peter shook his head. + +"I don't dare go over there except very early in the morning +before Farmer Brown's folks are awake," said he, "so I haven't +had much chance to look for it." + +"You probably couldn't see it, anyway," declared Jenny Wren. +"They have placed it rather high up from the ground and those +leaves are so thick that they hide it. It's a regular little +basket fastened in a fork near the end of a branch and it is +woven almost as nicely as is the nest of Goldy the Oriole. How +anybody has the patience to weave a nest like that is beyond me." + +"What's it made of?" asked Peter. + +"Strips of bark, plant down, spider's web, grass, and pieces of +paper!" replied Jenny. "That's a funny thing about Redeye; he +dearly loves a piece of paper in his nest. What for, I can't +imagine. He's as fussy about having a scrap of paper as Cresty +the Flycatcher is about having a piece of Snakeskin. I had just a +peep into that nest a few days ago and unless I am greatly +mistaken Sally Sly the Cowbird has managed to impose on the +Redeyes. I am certain I saw one of her eggs in that nest." + +A few mornings after this talk with Jenny Wren about Redeye the +Vireo Peter once more visited the Old Orchard. No sooner did he +come in sight than Jenny Wren's tongue began to fly. "What did I +tell you, Peter Rabbit? What did I tell you? I knew it was so, +and it is!" cried Jenny. + +"What is so?" asked Peter rather testily, for he hadn't the least +idea what Jenny Wren was talking about. + +"Sally Sly DID lay an egg in Redeye's nest, and now it has +hatched and I don't know whatever is to become of Redeye's own +children. It's perfectly scandalous! That's what it is, perfectly +scandalous!" cried Jenny, and hopped about and jerked her tail +and worked herself into a small brown fury. + +"The Redeyes are working themselves to feathers and bone feeding +that ugly young Cowbird while their own babies aren't getting +half enough to eat," continued Jenny. "One of them has died +already. He was kicked out of the nest by that young brute." + +"How dreadful!" cried Peter. "If he does things like that I +should think the Redeyes would throw HIM out of the nest." + +"They're too soft-hearted," declared Jenny. "I can tell you I +wouldn't be so soft-hearted if I were in their place. No, sir-ee, +I wouldn't! But they say it isn't his fault that he's there, and +that he's nothing but a helpless baby, and so they just take care +of him." + +"Then why don't they feed their own babies first and give him +what's left?" demanded Peter. + +"Because he's twice as big as any of their own babies and so +strong and greedy that he simply snatches the food out of the +very mouths of the others. Because he gets most of the food, he's +growing twice as fast as they are. I wouldn't be surprised if he +kicks all the rest of them out before he gets through. Mr. and +Mrs. Redeye are dreadfully distressed about it, but they will +feed him because they say it isn't his fault. It's a dreadful +affair and the talk of the whole Orchard. I suppose his mother is +off gadding somewhere, having a good time and not caring a flip +of her tail feathers what becomes of him. I believe in being +goodhearted, but there is such a thing as overdoing the matter. +Thank goodness I'm not so weak-minded that I can be imposed on in +any such way as that." + +"Speaking of the Vireos, Redeye seems to be the only member of +his family around here," remarked Peter. + +"Listen!" commanded Jenny Wren. "Don't you hear that warbling +song 'way over in the big elm in front of Farmer Brown's house +where Goldy the oriole has his nest?" + +Peter listened. At first he didn't hear it, and as usual Jenny +Wren made fun of him for having such big ears and not being able +to make better use of them. Presently he did hear it. The voice +was not unlike that of Redeye, but the song was smoother, more +continuous and sweeter. Peter's face lighted up. "I hear it," he +cried. + +"That's Redeye's cousin, the Warbling Vireo," said Jenny. "He's a +better singer than Redeye and just as fond of hearing his own +voice. He sings from the time jolly Mr. Sun gets up in the +morning until he goes to bed at night. He sings when it is so hot +that the rest of us are glad to keep still for comfort's sake. I +don't know of anybody more fond of the tree tops than he is. He +doesn't seem to care anything about the Old Orchard, but stays +over in those big trees along the road. He's got a nest over in +that big elm and it is as high up as that of Goldy the Oriole; I +haven't seen it myself, but Goldy told me about it. Why any one +so small should want to live so high up in the world I don't +know, any more than I know why any one wants to live anywhere but +in the Old Orchard." + +"Somehow I don't remember just what Warble looks like," Peter +confessed. + +"He looks a lot like his cousin, Redeye," replied Jenny. His coat +is a little duller olive-green and underneath he is a little bit +yellowish instead of being white. Of course he doesn't have red +eyes, and he is a little smaller than Redeye. The whole family +looks pretty much alike anyway." + +"You said something then, Jenny Wren," declared Peter. "They +get me all mixed up. If only some of them had some bright colors +it would be easier to tell them apart." + +"One has," replied Jenny Wren. "He has a bright yellow throat and +breast and is called the Yellow-throated Vireo. There isn't the +least chance of mistaking him." + +"Is he a singer, too?" asked Peter. + +"Of course," replied Jenny. "Every one of that blessed family +loves the sound of his own voice. It's a family trait. Sometimes +it just makes my throat sore to listen to them all day long. A +good thing is good, but more than enough of a good thing is too +much. That applies to gossiping just as well as to singing and +I've wasted more time on you than I've any business to. Now hop +along, Peter, and don't bother me any more to-day." + +Peter hopped. + + + +CHAPTER XXX Jenny Wren's Cousins. + +Peter Rabbit never will forget his surprise when Jenny Wren asked +him one spring morning if he had seen anything of her big cousin. +Peter hesitated. As a matter of fact, he couldn't think of any +big cousin of Jenny Wren. All the cousins he knew anything about +were very nearly Jenny's own size. + +Now Jenny Wren is one of the most impatient small persons in the +world. "Well, well, well, Peter, have you lost your tongue?" she +chattered. "Can't you answer a simple question without talking +all day about it? Have you seen anything of my big cousin? It is +high time for him to be here." + +"You needn't be so cross about it if I am slow," replied Peter. +"I'm just trying to think who your big cousin is. I guess, to be +quite honest, I don't know him." + +"Don't know him! Don't know him!" Sputtered Jenny. "Of course you +know him. You can't help but know him. I mean Brownie the +Thrasher." + +In his surprise Peter fairly jumped right off the ground. "What's +that?" he exclaimed. "Since when was Brownie the Thrasher related +to the Wren family?" + +"Ever since there have been any Wrens and Thrashers," retorted +Jenny. "Brownie belongs to one branch of the family and I belong +to another, and that makes him my second cousin. It certainly is +surprising how little some folks know." + +"But I have always supposed he belonged to the Thrush family," +protested Peter. "He certainly looks like a Thrush." + +"Looking like one doesn't make him one," snapped Jenny. "By this +time you ought to leave learned that you never can judge anybody +just by looks. It always makes me provoked to hear Brownie called +the Brown Thrush. There isn't a drop of Thrush blood in him. But +you haven't answered my question yet, Peter Rabbit. I want to +know if he has got here yet." + +"Yes," said Peter. "I saw him only yesterday on the edge of the +Old Pasture. He was fussing around in the bushes and on the +ground and jerking that long tail of his up and down and sidewise +as if he couldn't decide what to do with it. I've never seen +anybody twitch their tail around the way he does." + +Jenny Wren giggled. "That's just like him," said she. "It is +because he thrashes his tail around so much that he is called a +Thrasher. I suppose he was wearing his new spring suit." + +"I don't know whether it was a new suit or not, but it was mighty +good looking," replied Peter. "I just love that beautiful +reddish-brown of his back, wings and tail, and it certainly does +set off his white and buff waistcoat with those dark streaks and +spots. You must admit, Jenny Wren, that any one seeing him +dressed so much like the Thrushes is to be excused for thinking +him a Thrush." + +"I suppose so," admitted Jenny rather grudgingly. "But none of +the Thrushes have such a bright brown coat. Brownie is handsome, +if I do say so. Did you notice what a long bill he has?" + +Peter nodded. "And I noticed that he had two white bars on each +wing," said he. + +"I'm glad you're so observing," replied Jenny dryly. "Did you +hear him sing?" + +"Did I hear him sing!" cried Peter, his eyes shining at the +memory. "He sang especially for me. He flew up to the top of a +tree, tipped his head back and sang as few birds I know of can +sing. He has a wonderful voice, has Brownie. I don't know of +anybody I enjoy listening to more. And when he's singing he acts +as if he enjoyed it himself and knows what a good singer he is. I +noticed that long tail of his hung straight down the same way Mr. +Wren's does when he sings." + +"Of course it did," replied Jenny promptly. "That's a family +trait. The tails of both my other big cousins do the same thing." + +"Wha-wha-what's that? Have you got more big cousins?" cried +Peter, staring up at Jenny as if she were some strange person he +never had seen before. + +"Certainly," retorted Jenny. "Mocker the Mockingbird and Kitty +the Catbird belong to Brownie's family, and that makes them +second cousins to me." + +Such a funny expression as there was on Peter's face. He felt +that Jenny Wren was telling the truth, but it was surprising news +to him and so hard to believe that for a few minutes he couldn't +find his tongue to ask another question. Finally he ventured to +ask very timidly, "Does Brownie imitate the songs of other birds +the way Mocker and Kitty do?" + +Jenny Wren shook her head very decidedly. "No," said she. "He's +perfectly satisfied with his own song." Before she could add +anything further the clear whistle of Glory the Cardinal sounded +from a tree just a little way off. Instantly Peter forgot all +about Jenny Wren's relatives and scampered over to that tree. You +see Glory is so beautiful that Peter never loses a chance to see +him. + +As Peter sat staring up into the tree, trying to get a glimpse of +Glory's beautiful red coat, the clear, sweet whistle sounded once +more. It drew Peter's eyes to one of the upper branches, but +instead of the beautiful, brilliant coat of Glory the Cardinal he +saw a bird about the size of Welcome Robin dressed in sober +ashy-gray with two white bars on his wings, and white feathers on +the outer edges of his tail. He was very trim and neat and his +tail hung straight down after the manner of Brownie's when he +was singing. It was a long tail, but not as long as Brownie's. +Even as Peter blinked and stared in surprise the stranger opened +his mouth and from it came Glory's own beautiful whistle. Then +the stranger looked down at Peter, and his eyes twinkled with +mischief. + +"Fooled you that time, didn't I, Peter?" he chuckled. "You +thought you were going to see Glory the Cardinal, didn't you?" + +Then without waiting for Peter to reply, this sober-looking +stranger gave such a concert as no one else in the world could +give. From that wonderful throat poured out song after song and +note after note of Peter's familiar friends of the Old Orchard, +and the performance wound up with a lovely song which was all the +stranger's own. Peter didn't have to be told who the stranger +was. It was Mocker the Mockingbird. + +"Oh!" gasped Peter. "Oh, Mocker, how under the sun do you do it? +I was sure that it was Glory whom I heard whistling. Never again +will I be able to believe my own ears." + +Mocker chuckled. "You're not the only one I've fooled, Peter," +said he. "I flatter myself that I can fool almost anybody if I +set out to. It's lots of fun. I may not be much to look at, but +when it comes to singing there's no one I envy. + +"I think you are very nice looking indeed," replied Peter +politely. "I've just been finding out this morning that you can't +tell much about folks just by their looks." + +"And now you've learned that you can't always recognize folks by +their voices, haven't you?" chuckled Mocker. + +"Yes," replied Peter. "Hereafter I shall never be sure about any +feathered folks unless I can both see and hear them. Won't you +sing for me again, Mocker?" + +Mocker did. He sang and sang, for he clearly loves to sing. When +he finished Peter had another question ready. "Somebody told me +once that down in the South you are the best loved of all the +birds. Is that so?" + +"That's not for me to say," replied Mocker modestly. "But I can +tell you this, Peter, they do think a lot of me down there. There +are many birds down there who are very beautifully dressed, birds +who don't come up here at all. But not one of them is loved as I +am, and it is all on account of my voice. I would rather have a +beautiful voice than a fine coat." + +Peter nodded as if he quite agreed, which, when you think of it, +is rather funny, for Peter has neither a fine coat nor a fine +voice. A glint of mischief sparkled in Mocker's eyes. "There's +Mrs. Goldy the Oriole over there," said he. "Watch me fool her." + +He began to call in exact imitation of Goldy's voice when he is +anxious about something. At once Mrs. Goldy came hurrying over to +find out what the trouble was. When she discovered Mocker she +lost her temper and scolded him roundly; then she flew away a +perfect picture of indignation. Mocker and Peter laughed, for +they thought it a good joke. + +Suddenly Peter remembered what Jenny Wren had told him. "Was +Jenny Wren telling you the truth when she said that you are a +second cousin of hers?" he asked. + +Mocker nodded. "Yes," said he, "we are relatives. We each belong +to a branch of the same family." Then he burst into Mr. Wren's +own song, after which he excused himself and went to look for +Mrs. Mocker. For, as he explained, it was time for them to he +thinking of a nest. + + + +CHAPTER XXXI Voices of the Dusk. + +Jolly, round, red Mr. Sun was just going to bed behind the Purple +Hills and the Black Shadows had begun to creep all through the +Green Forest and out across the Green Meadows. It was the hour of +the day Peter Rabbit loves best. He sat on the edge of the Green +Forest watching for the first little star to twinkle high up in +the sky. Peter felt at peace with all the Great World, for it was +the hour of peace, the hour of rest for those who had been busy +all through the shining day. + +Most of Peter's feathered friends had settled themselves for the +coming night, the worries and cares of the day over and +forgotten. All the Great World seemed hushed. In the distance +Sweetvoice the Vesper Sparrow was pouring out his evening song, +for it was the hour when he dearly loves to sing. Far back in the +Green Forest Whip-poor-will was calling as if his very life +depended on the number of times he could say, "Whip poor Will," +without taking a breath. From overhead came now and then the +sharp, rather harsh cry of Boomer the Nighthawk, as he hunted his +supper in the air. + +For a time it seemed as if these were the only feathered friends +still awake, and Peter couldn't help thinking that those who went +so early to bed missed the most beautiful hour of the whole day. +Then, from a tree just back of him, there poured forth a song so +clear, so sweet, so wonderfully suited to that peaceful hour, +that Peter held his breath until it was finished. He knew that +singer and loved him. It was Melody the Wood Thrush. + +When the song ended Peter hopped over to the tree from which it +had come. It was still light enough for him to see the sweet +singer. He sat on a branch near the top, his head thrown back and +his soft, full throat throbbing with the flute-like notes he was +pouring forth. He was a little smaller than Welcome Robin. His +coat was a beautiful reddish-brown, not quite so bright as that +of Brownie the Thrasher. Beneath he was white with large, black +spots thickly dotting his breast and sides. He was singing as if +he were trying to put into those beautiful notes all the joy of +life. Listening to it Peter felt steal over him a wonderful +feeling of peace and pure happiness. Not for the world would he +have interrupted it. + +The Black Shadows crept far across the Green Meadows and it +became so dusky in the Green Forest that Peter could barely make +out the sweet singer above his head. Still Melody sang on and the +hush of eventide grew deeper, as if all the Great World were +holding its breath to listen. It was not until several little +stars had begun to twinkle high up in the sky that Melody stopped +singing and sought the safety of his hidden perch for the night. +Peter felt sure that somewhere near was a nest and that one thing +which had made that song so beautiful was the love Melody lad +been trying to express to the little mate sitting on the eggs +that nest must contain. "I'll just run over here early in the +morning," thought Peter. + +Now Peter is a great hand to stay out all night, and that is just +what he did that night. Just before it was time for jolly, round, +red Mr. Sun to kick off his rosy blankets and begin his daily +climb up in the blue, blue sky, Peter started for home in the +dear Old Briar-patch. Everywhere in the Green Forest, in the Old +Orchard, on the Green Meadows, his feathered friends were +awakening. He had quite forgotten his intention to visit Melody +and was reminded of it only when again he heard those beautiful +flute-like notes. At once he scampered over to where he had spent +such a peaceful hour the evening before. Melody saw him at once +and dropped down on the ground for a little gossip while he +scratched among the leaves in search of his breakfast. + +"I just love to hear you sing, Melody," cried Peter rather +breathlessly. "I don't know of any other song that makes me feel +quite as yours does, so sort of perfectly contented and free of +care and worry." + +"Thank you," replied Melody. "I'm glad you like to hear me sing +for there is nothing I like to do better. It is the one way in +which I can express my feelings. I love all the Great World and I +just have to tell it so. I do not mean to boast when I say that +all the Thrush family have good voices." + +"But you have the best of all," cried Peter. + +Melody shook his brown head. "I wouldn't say that," said he +modestly. "I think the song of my cousin Hermit, is even more +beautiful than mine. And then there is my other cousin, Veery. +His song is wonderful, I think." + +But just then Peter's curiosity was greater than his interest in +songs. "Have you built your nest yet?" he asked. + +Melody nodded. "It is in a little tree not far from here," said +he, "and Mrs. Wood Thrush is sitting on five eggs this blessed +minute. Isn't that perfectly lovely?" + +It was Peter's turn to nod. "What is your nest built of?" he +inquired. + +"Rootlets and tiny twigs and weed stalks and leaves and mud," +replied Melody. + +"Mud!" exclaimed Peter. "Why, that's what Welcome Robin uses in +his nest." + +"Well, Welcome Robin is my own cousin, so I don't know as there's +anything so surprising in that," retorted Melody. + +"Oh," said Peter. "I had forgotten that he is a member of the +Thrush family." + +"Well, he is, even if he is dressed quite differently from the +rest of us," replied Melody. + +"You mentioned your cousin, Hermit. I don't believe I know him," +said Peter. + +"Then it's high time you got acquainted with him," replied Melody +promptly. "He is rather fond of being by himself and that is why +he is called the Hermit Thrush. He is smaller than I and his coat +is not such a bright brown. His tail is brighter than his coat. +He has a waistcoat spotted very much like mine. Some folks +consider him the most beautiful singer of the Thrush family. I'm +glad you like my song, but you must hear Hermit sing. I really +think there is no song so beautiful in all the Green Forest." + +"Does he build a nest like yours?" asked Peter. + +"No," replied Melody. "He builds his nest on the ground, and he +doesn't use any mud. Now if you'll excuse me, Peter, I must get +my breakfast and give Mrs. Wood Thrush a chance to get hers." + +So Peter continued on his way to the dear Old Briar-patch and +there he spent the day. As evening approached he decided to go +back to hear Melody sing again. Just as he drew near the Green +Forest he heard from the direction of the Laughing Brook a song +that caused him to change his mind and sent him hurrying in that +direction. It was a very different song from that of Melody the +Wood Thrush, yet, if he had never heard it before, Peter would +have known that such a song could come from no throat except that +of a member of the Thrush family. As he drew near the Laughing +Brook the beautiful notes seemed to ring through the Green Forest +like a bell. As Melody's song had filled Peter with a feeling of +peace, so this song stirred in him a feeling of the wonderful +mystery of life. There was in it the very spirit of the Green +Forest. + +It didn't take Peter long to find the singer. It was Veery, who +has been named Wilson's Thrush; and by some folks is known as the +Tawny Thrush. + +At the sound of the patter of Peter's feet the song stopped +abruptly and he was greeted with a whistled "Wheeu! wheeu!" Then, +seeing that it was no one of whom he need be afraid, Veery came +out from under some ferns to greet Peter. He was smaller than +Melody the Wood Thrush, being about one-fourth smaller than +Welcome Robin. He wore a brown coat but it was not as bright as +that of his cousin, Melody. His breast was somewhat faintly +spotted with brown, and below he was white. His sides were +grayish-white and not spotted like the sides of Melody. + +"I heard you singing and I just had to come over to see you," +cried Peter. + +"I hope you like my song," said Veery. "I love to sing just at +this hour and I love to think that other people like to hear me." + +"They do," declared Peter most emphatically. "I can't imagine how +anybody could fail to like to hear you. I came 'way over here +just to sit a while and listen. Won't you sing some more for me, +Veery?" + +"I certainly will, Peter," replied Veery. "I wouldn't feel that I +was going to bed right if I didn't sing until dark. There is no +part of the day I love better than the evening, and the only way +I can express my happiness and my love of the Green Forest and +the joy of just being back here at home is by singing." + +Veery slipped out of sight, and almost at once his bell-like +notes began to ring through the Green Forest. Peter sat right +where he was, content to just listen and feel within himself the +joy of being alive and happy in the beautiful spring season which +Veery was expressing so wonderfully. The B1ack Shadows grew +blacker. One by one the little stars came out and twinkled down +through the tree tops. Finally from deep in the Green Forest +sounded the hunting call of Hooty the Owl. Veery's song stopped. +"Good night, Peter," he called softly. + +"Good night, Veery," replied Peter and hopped back towards the +Green Meadows for a feast of sweet clover. + + + +CHAPTER XXXII Peter Saves a Friend and Learns Something. + +Peter Rabbit sat in a thicket of young trees on the edge of the +Green Forest. It was warm and Peter was feeling lazy. He had +nothing in particular to do, and as he knew of no cooler place he +had squatted there to doze a bit and dream a bit. So far as he +knew, Peter was all alone. He hadn't seen anybody when he entered +that little thicket, and though he had listened he hadn't heard a +sound to indicate that he didn't have that thicket quite to +himself. It was very quiet there, and though when he first +entered he hadn't the least intention in the world of going to +sleep, it wasn't long before he was dozing. + +Now Peter is a light sleeper, as all little people who never know +when they may have to run for their lives must be. By and by he +awoke with a start, and he was very wide awake indeed. Something +had wakened him, though just what it was he couldn't say. His +long ears stood straight up as he listened with all his might for +some little sound which might mean danger. His wobbly little nose +wobbled very fast indeed as it tested the air for the scent of a +possible enemy. Very alert was Peter as he waited. + +For a few minutes he heard nothing and saw nothing. Then, near +the outer edge of the thicket, he heard a great rustling of dry +leaves. It must have been this that had wakened him. For just an +instant Peter was startled, but only for an instant. His long +ears told him at once that that noise was made by some one +scratching among the leaves, and he knew that no one who did not +wear feathers could scratch like that. + +"Now who can that be?" thought Peter, and stole forward very +softly towards the place from which the sound came. Presently, as +he peeped between the stems of the young trees, he saw the brown +leaves which carpeted the ground fly this way and that, and in +the midst of them was an exceedingly busy person, a little +smaller than Welcome Robin, scratching away for dear life. Every +now and then he picked up something. + +His head, throat, back and breast were black. Beneath he was +white. His sides were reddish-brown. His tail was black and +white, and the longer feathers of his wings were edged with +white. It was Chewink the Towhee, sometimes called Ground Robin. + +Peter chuckled, but it was a noiseless chuckle. He kept perfectly +still, for it was fun to watch some one who hadn't the least idea +that he was being watched. It was quite clear that Chewink was +hungry and that under those dry leaves he was finding a good +meal. His feet were made for scratching and he certainly knew how +to use them. For some time Peter sat there watching. He had just +about made up his mind that he would make his presence known and +have a bit of morning gossip when, happening to look out beyond +the edge of the little thicket, he saw something red. It was +something alive, for it was moving very slowly and cautiously +towards the place where Chewink was so busy and forgetful of +everything but his breakfast. Peter knew that there was only one +person with a coat of that color. It was Reddy Fox, and quite +plainly Reddy was hoping to catch Chewink. + +For a second or two Peter was quite undecided what to do. He +couldn't warn Chewink without making his own presence known to +Reddy Fox. Of course he could sit perfectly still and let Chewink +be caught, but that was such a dreadful thought that Peter didn't +consider it for more than a second or two. He suddenly thumped +the ground with his feet. It was his danger signal which all his +friends know. Then he turned and scampered lipperty-lipperty-lip +to a thick bramble-tangle not far behind him. + +At the sound of that thump Chewink instantly flew up in a little +tree. Then he saw Reddy Fox and began to scold. As for Reddy, he +looked over towards the bramble-tangle and snarled. "I'll get you +one of these days, Peter Rabbit," said he. "I'll get you one of +these days and pay you up for cheating me out of a breakfast." +Without so much as a glance at Chewink, Reddy turned and trotted +off, trying his best to look dignified and as if he had never +entertained such a thought as trying to catch Chewink. + +>From his perch Chewink watched until he was sure that Reddy Fox +had gone away for good. Then he called softly, "Towhee! Towhee! +Chewink! Chewink! All is safe now, Peter Rabbit. Come out and +talk with me and let me tell you how grateful to you I am for +saving my life." + +Chewink flew down to the ground and Peter crept out of the +bramble-tangle. "It wasn't anything," declared Peter. "I saw +Reddy and I knew you didn't, so of course I gave the alarm. You +would have done the same thing for me. Do you know, Chewink, I've +wondered a great deal about you." + +"What have you wondered about me?" asked Chewink. + +"I've wondered what family you belong to," replied Peter. + +Chewink chuckled. "I belong to a big family," said he. "I belong +to the biggest family among the birds. It is the Finch and +Sparrow family. There are a lot of us and a good many of us don't +look much alike, but still we belong to the same family. I +suppose you know that Rosebreast the Grosbeak and Glory the +Cardinal are members of my family." + +"I didn't know it," replied Peter, "but if you say it is so I +suppose it must be so. It is easier to believe than it is to +believe that you are related to the Sparrows." + +"Nevertheless I am," retorted Chewink. + +"What were you scratching for when I first saw you?" asked Peter. + +"Oh, worms and bugs that hide under the leaves," replied Chewink +carelessly. "You have no idea how many of them hide under dead +leaves." + +"Do you eat anything else?" asked Peter. + +"Berries and wild fruits in season," replied Chewink. "I'm very +fond of them. They make a variety in the bill of fare." + +"I've noticed that I seldom see you up in the tree tops," +remarked Peter. + +"I like the ground better," replied Chewink. "I spend more of my +time on the ground than anywhere else." + +"I suppose that means that you nest on the ground," ventured +Peter. + +Chewink nodded. "Of course," said he. "As a matter of fact, I've +got a nest in this very thicket. Mrs. Towhee is on it right now, +and I suspect she's worrying and anxious to know what happened +over here when you warned me about Reddy Fox. I think I must go +over and set her mind at rest." + +Peter was just about to ask if he might go along and see that +nest when a new voice broke in. + +"What are you fellows talking about?" it demanded, and there +flitted just in front of Peter a little bird the size of a +Sparrow but lovelier than any Sparrow of Peter's acquaintance. At +first glance he seemed to be all blue, and such a lovely bright +blue. But as he paused for an instant Peter saw that his wings +and tail were mostly black and that the lovely blue was brightest +on his head and back. It was Indigo the Bunting. + +"We were talking about our family," replied Chewink. "I was +telling Peter that we belong to the largest family among the +birds." + +"But you didn't say anything about Indigo," interrupted Peter. +"Do you mean to say that he belongs to the same family?" + +"I surely do," replied Indigo. "I'm rather closely related to the +Sparrow branch. Don't I look like a Sparrow?" + +Peter looked at Indigo closely. "In size and shape you do," he +confessed, "but just the same I should never in the world have +thought of connecting you with the Sparrows." + +"How about me?" asked another voice, and a little brown bird flew +up beside Indigo, twitching her tail nervously. She looked very +Sparrow-like indeed, so much so, that if Peter had not seen her +with her handsome mate, for she was Mrs. Indigo, he certainly +would have taken her for a Sparrow. + +Only on her wings and tail was there any of the blue which made +Indigo's coat so beautiful, and this was only a faint tinge. + +"I'll have to confess that so far as you are concerned it isn't +hard to think of you as related to the Sparrows," declared Peter. +"Don't you sometimes wish you were as handsomely dressed as +Indigo?" + +Mrs. Indigo shook her head in a most decided way. "Never!" she +declared. "I have worries enough raising a family as it is, but +if I had a coat like his I wouldn't have a moment of peace. You +have no idea how I worry about him sometimes. You ought to be +thankful, Peter Rabbit, that you haven't a coat like his. It +attracts altogether too much attention." + +Peter tried to picture himself in a bright blue coat and laughed +right out at the mere thought, and the others joined with him. +Then Indigo flew up to the top of a tall tree not far away and +began to sing. It was a lively song and Peter enjoyed it +thoroughly. Mrs. Indigo took this opportunity to slip away +unobserved, and when Peter looked around for Chewink, he too had +disappeared. He had gone to tell Mrs. Cbewink that he was quite +safe and that she bad nothing to worry about. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIII A Royal Dresser and a Late Nester. + +Jenny and Mr. Wren were busy. If there were any busier little +folks anywhere Peter Rabbit couldn't imagine who they could be. +You see, everyone of those seven eggs in the Wren nest had +hatched, and seven mouths are a lot to feed, especially when +every morsel of food must be hunted for and carried from a +distance. There was little time for gossip now. Just as soon as +it was light enough to see Jenny and Mr. Wren began feeding those +always hungry babies, and they kept at it with hardly time for an +occasional mouthful themselves, until the Black Shadows came +creeping out from the Purple Hills. Wren babies, like all other +bird babies, grow very fast, and that means that each one of them +must have a great deal of food every day. Each one of them often +ate its own weight in food in a day and all their food had to be +hunted for and when found carried back and put into the gaping +little mouths. Hardly would Jenny Wren disappear in the little +round doorway of her home with a caterpillar in her bill than she +would hop out again, and Mr. Wren would take her place with a +spider or a fly and then hurry away for something more. + +Peter tried to keep count of the number of times they came and +went but soon gave it up as a bad job. He began to wonder where +all the worms and bugs and spiders came from, and gradually he +came to have a great deal of respect for eyes sharp enough to +find them so quickly. Needless to say Jenny was shorter-tempered +than ever. She had no time to gossip and said so most +emphatically. So at last Peter gave up the idea of trying to find +out from her certain things he wanted to know, and hopped off to +look for some one who was less busy. He had gone but a short +distance when his attention was caught by a song so sweet and so +full of little trills that he first stopped to listen, then went +to look for the singer. + +It didn't take long to find him, for he was sitting on the very +tiptop of a fir-tree in Farmer Brown's yard. Peter didn't dare go +over there, for already it was broad daylight, and he had about +made up his mind that he would have to content himself with just +listening to that sweet singer when the latter flew over in the +Old Orchard and alighted just over Peter's head. "Hello, Peter!" +he cried. + +"Hello, Linnet!" cried Peter. "I was wondering who it could be +who was singing like that. I ought to have known, but you see +it's so long since I've heard you sing that I couldn't just +remember your song. I'm so glad you came over here for I'm just +dying to talk to somebody." + +Linnet the Purple Finch, for this is who it was, laughed right +out. "I see you're still the same old Peter," said he. "I suppose +you're just as full of curiosity as ever and just as full of +questions. Well, here I am, so what shall we talk about?" + +"You," replied Peter bluntly. "Lately I've found out so many +surprising things about my feathered friends that I want to know +more. I'm trying to get it straight in my head who is related to +who, and I've found out some things which have begun to make me +feel that I know very little about my feathered neighbors. It's +getting so that I don't dare to even guess who a person's +relatives are. If you please, Linnet, what family do you belong +to?" + +Linnet flew down a little nearer to Peter. "Look me over, Peter," +said he with twinkling eyes. "Look me over and see if you can't +tell for yourself." + +Peter stared solemnly at Linnet. He saw a bird of Sparrow size +most of whose body was a rose-red, brightest on the head, darkest +on the back, and palest on the breast. Underneath he was whitish. + +His wings and tail were brownish, the outer parts of the feathers +edged with rose-red. His bill was short and stout. + +Before Peter could reply, Mrs. Linnet appeared. There wasn't so +much as a touch of that beautiful rose-red about her. Her +grayish-brown back was streaked with black, and her white breast +and sides were spotted and streaked with brown. If Peter hadn't +seen her with Linnet he certainly would have taken her for a +Sparrow. She looked so much like one that he ventured to say, "I +guess you belong to the Sparrow family." + +"That's pretty close, Peter. That's pretty close," declared +Linnet. "We belong to the Finch branch of the family, which makes +the sparrows own cousins to us. Folks may get Mrs. Linnet mixed +with some of our Sparrow cousins, but they never can mistake me. +There isn't anybody else my size with a rose-red coat like mine. +If you can't remember my song, which you ought to, because there +is no other song quite like it, you can always tell me by the +color of my coat. Hello! Here comes Cousin Chicoree. Did you ever +see a happier fellow than he is? I'll venture to say that he has +been having such a good time that he hasn't even yet thought of +building a nest, and here half the people of the Old Orchard have +grown families. I've a nest and eggs myself, but that madcap +is just roaming about having a good time. Isn't that so, +Chicoree?" + +"Isn't what so?" demanded Chicoree the Goldfinch, perching very +near to where Linnet was sitting. + +"Isn't it true that you haven't even begun thinking about a +nest?" demanded Linnet. Chicoree flew down in the grass almost +under Peter's nose and began to pull apart a dandelion which had +gone to seed. He snipped the seeds from the soft down to which +they were attached and didn't say a word till he was quite +through. Then he flew up in the tree near Linnet, and while he +dressed his feathers, answered Linnet's question. + +"It's quite true, but what of it?" said he. "There's time enough +to think about nest-building and household cares later. Mrs. +Goldfinch and I will begin to think about them about the first of +July. Meanwhile we are making the most of this beautiful season +to roam about and have a good time. For one thing we like +thistledown to line our nest, and there isn't any thistledown +yet. Then, there is no sense in raising a family until there is +plenty of the right kind of food, and you know we Goldfinches +live mostly on seeds. I'll venture to say that we are the +greatest seed-eaters anywhere around. Of course when the babies +are small they have to have soft food, but one can find plenty of +worms and bugs any time during the summer. Just as soon as the +children are big enough to hunt their own food they need seeds, +so there is no sense in trying to raise a family until there are +plenty of seeds for them when needed. Meanwhile we are having a +good time. How do you like my summer suit, Peter?" + +"It's beautiful," cried Peter. "I wouldn't know you for the same +bird I see so often in the late fall and sometimes in the winter. +I don't know of anybody who makes a more complete change. That +black cap certainly is very smart and becoming." + +Chicoree cocked his head on one side, the better to show off that +black cap. The rest of his head and his whole body were bright +yellow. His wings were black with two white bars on each. His +tail also was black, with some white on it. In size he was a +little smaller than Linnet and altogether one of the smartest +appearing of all the little people who wear feathers. It was a +joy just to look at him. If Peter had known anything about +Canaries, which of course he didn't, because Canaries are always +kept in cages, he would have understood why Chicoree the +Goldfinch is often called the Wild Canary. + +Mrs. Goldfinch now joined her handsome mate and it was plain to +see that she admired him quite as much as did Peter. Her wings +and tail were much like his but were more brownish than black. +She wore no cap it all and her back and head were a grayish-brown +with an olive tinge. Underneath she was lighter, with a tinge of +yellow. All together she was a very modestly dressed small +person. As Peter recalled Chicoree's winter suit, it was very +much like that now worn by Mrs. Goldfinch, save that his wings +and tail were as they now appeared. + +All the time Chicoree kept up a continual happy twittering, +breaking out every few moments into song. It was clear that he +was fairly bubbling over with joy. + +"I suppose," said Peter, "it sounds foolish of me to ask if you +are a member of the same family as Linnet." + +"Very foolish, Peter. Very foolish," laughed Chicoree. "Isn't my +name Goldfinch, and isn't his name Purple Finch? We belong to the +same family and a mighty fine family it is. Now I must go over to +the Old Pasture to see how the thistles are coming on." + +Away he flew calling, "Chic-o-ree, per-chic-o-ree, chic-o-ree!" +Mrs. Goldfinch followed. As they flew, they rose and fell in the +air in very much the same way that Yellow Wing the Flicker does. + +"I'd know them just by that, even if Chicoree didn't keep calling +his own name," thought Peter. "It's funny how they often stay +around all winter yet are among the last of all the birds to set +up housekeeping. As I once said to Jenny Wren, birds certainly +are funny creatures." + +"Tut, tut, tut, tut, tut! It's no such thing, Peter Rabbit. It's +no such thing," scolded Jenny Wren as she flew last Peter on her +way to hunt for another worm for her hungry babies. + + + +CHAPTER, XXXIV Mourner the Dove and Cuckoo. + +A long lane leads from Farmer Brown's barnyard down to his +cornfield on the Green Meadows. It happened that very early one +morning Peter Rabbit took it into his funny little head to run +down that long lane to see what he might see. Now at a certain +place beside that long lane was a gravelly bank into which Farmer +Brown had dug for gravel to put on the roadway up near his house. +As Peter was scampering past this place where Farmer Brown had +dug he caught sight of some one very busy in that gravel pit. +Peter stopped short, then sat up to stare. + +It was Mourner the Dove whom Peter saw, an old friend of whom +Peter is very fond. His body was a little bigger than that of +Welcome Robin, but his long slender neck, and longer tail and +wings made him appear considerably larger. In shape he reminded +Peter at once of the Pigeons up at Farmer Brown's. His back was +grayish-brown, varying to bluish-gray. The crown and upper parts +of his head were bluish-gray. His breast was reddish-buff, +shading down into a soft buff. His bill was black and his feet +red. The two middle feathers of his tail were longest and of the +color of his back. The other feathers were slaty-gray with little +black bands and tipped with white. On his wings were a few +scattered black spots. Just under each ear was a black spot. But +it was the sides of his slender neck which were the most +beautiful part of Mourner. When untouched by the Jolly Little +Sunbeams the neck feathers appeared to be in color very like his +breast, but the moment they were touched by the Jolly Little +Sunbeams they seemed to be constantly changing, which, as you +know, is called iridescence. Altogether Mourner was lovely in a +quiet way. + +But it was not his appearance which made Peter stare; it was what +he was doing. He was walking about and every now and then picking +up something quite as if he were getting his breakfast in that +gravel pit, and Peter couldn't imagine anything good to eat down +there. He knew that there were not even worms there. Besides, +Mourner is not fond of worms; he lives almost altogether on seeds +and grains of many kinds. So Peter was puzzled. But as yon know +he isn't the kind to puzzle long over anything when he can use +his tongue. + +"Hello, Mourner!" he cried. "What under the sun are you doing in +there? Are you getting your breakfast?" + +"Hardly, Peter; hardly," cooed Mourner in the softest of voices. +"I've had my breakfast and now I'm picking up a little gravel for +my digestion." He picked up a tiny pebble and swallowed it. + +"Well, of all things!" cried Peter. "You must be crazy. The idea +of thinking that gravel is going to help your digestion. I should +say the chances are that it will work just the other way." + +Mourner laughed. It was the softest of little cooing laughs, very +pleasant to hear. "I see that as usual you are judging others by +yourself," said he. "You ought to know by this time that you can +do nothing more foolish. I haven't the least doubt that a +breakfast of gravel would give you the worst kind of a +stomach-ache. But you are you and I am I, and there is all the +difference in the world. You know I eat grain and hard seeds. Not +having any teeth I have to swallow them whole. One part of my +stomach is called a gizzard and its duty is to grind and crush my +food so that it may be digested. Tiny pebbles and gravel help +grind the food and so aid digestion. I think I've got enough now +for this morning, and it is time for a dust bath. There is a +dusty spot over in the lane where I take a dust bath every day." + +"If you don't mind," said Peter, "I'll go with you." + +Mourner said he didn't mind, so Peter followed him over to the +dusty place in the long lane. There Mourner was joined by Mrs. +Dove, who was dressed very much like him save that she did not +have so beautiful a neck. While they thoroughly dusted themselves +they chatted with Peter. + +"I see you on the ground so much that I've often wondered if you +build your nest on the ground," said Peter. + +"No," replied Mourner. "Mrs. Dove builds in a tree, but usually +not very far above the ground. Now if you'll excuse us we must +get back home. Mrs. Dove has two eggs to sit on and while she is +siting I like to be close at hand to keep her company and make +love to her." + +The Doves shook the loose dust from their feathers and flew away. +Peter watched to see where they went, but lost sight of them +behind some trees, so decided to run up to the Old Orchard. There +he found Jenny and Mr. Wren as busy as ever feeding that growing +family of theirs. Jenny wouldn't stop an instant to gossip. Peter +was so brimful of what he had found out about Mr. and Mrs. Dove +that he just had to tell some one. He heard Kitty the Catbird +meowing among the bushes along the old stone wall, so hurried +over to look for him. As soon as he found him Peter began to tell +what he had learned about Mourner the Dove. + +"That's no news, Peter," interrupted Kitty. "I know all about +Mourner and his wife. They are very nice people, though I must +say Mrs. Dove is one of the poorest housekeepers I know of. I +take it you never have seen her nest." + +Peter shook his head. "No," said he, "I haven't. What is it +like?" + +Kitty the Catbird laughed. "It's about the poorest apology for a +nest I know of," said he. "It is made of little sticks and mighty +few of them. How they hold together is more than I can understand. +I guess it is a good thing that Mrs. Dove doesn't lay more than +two eggs, and it's a wonder to me that those two stay in the +nest. Listen! There's Mourner's voice now. For one who is so +happy he certainly does have the mournfullest sounding voice. To +hear him you'd think he was sorrowful instead of happy. It always +makes me feel sad to hear him." + +"That's true," replied Peter, "but I like to hear him just the +same. Hello! Who's that?" + +>From one of the trees in the Old Orchard sounded a long, clear, +"Kow-kow-kow-kow-kow-kow!" It was quite unlike any voice Peter +had heard that spring. + +"That's Cuckoo," said Kitty. "Do you mean to say you don't know +Cuckoo?" + +"Of course I know him," retorted Peter. "I had forgotten the +sound of his voice, that's all." Tell me, Kitty, is it true that +Mrs. Cuckoo is no better than Sally Sly the Cowbird and goes +about laying her eggs in the nests of other birds? I've heard +that said of her." + +"There isn't a word of truth in it," declared Kitty emphatically. +"She builds a nest, such as it is, which isn't much, and she +looks after her own children. The Cuckoos have been given a bad +name because of some good-for-nothing cousins of theirs who live +across the ocean where Bully the English Sparrow belongs, and +who, if all reports are true, really are no better than Sally Sly +the Cowbird. It's funny how a bad name sticks. The Cuckoos have +been accused of stealing the eggs of us other birds, but I've +never known them to do it and I've lived neighbor to them for a +long time, I guess they get their bad name because of their +habit of slipping about silently and keeping out of sight as much +as possible, as if they were guilty of doing something wrong and +trying to keep from being seen. As a matter of fact, they are +mighty useful birds. Farmer Brown ought to be tickled to death +that Mr. and Mrs. Cuckoo have come back to the Old Orchard this +year." + +"Why?" demanded Peter. + +"Do you see that cobwebby nest with all those hairy caterpillars +on it and around it up in that tree?" asked Kitty. + +Peter replied that he did and that he had seen a great many nests +just like it, and had noticed how the caterpillars ate all the +leaves near them. + +"I'll venture to say that you won't see very many leaves eaten +around that nest," replied Kitty. "Those are called +tent-caterpillars, and they do an awful lot of damage. I can't +bear them myself because they are so hairy, and very few birds +will touch them. But Cuckoo likes them. There he comes now; just +watch him." + +A long, slim Dove-like looking bird alighted close to the +caterpillar's nest. Above he was brownish-gray with just a little +greenish tinge. Beneath he was white. His wings were +reddish-brown. His tail was a little longer than that of Mourner +the Dove. The outer feathers were black tipped with white, while +the middle feathers were the color of his back. The upper half of +his bill was black, but the under half was yellow, and from this +he is called the Yellow-billed Cuckoo. He has a cousin very much +like himself in appearance, save that his bill is all black and +he is listed the Black-billed Cuckoo. + +Cuckoo made no sound but began to pick off the hairy caterpillars +and swallow them. When he had eaten all those in sight he made +holes in the silken web of the nest and picked out the +caterpillars that were inside. Finally, having eaten his fill, he +flew off as silently as he had come and disappeared among the +bushes farther along the old stone wall. A moment later they +heard his voice, "Kow-kow-how-kow-kow-kow-kow-kow!" + +"I suppose some folks would think that it is going to rain," +remarked Kitty the Catbird. "They have the silly notion that +Cuckoo only calls just before rain, and so they call him the Rain +Crow. But that isn't so at all. Well, Peter, I guess I've +gossiped enough for one morning. I must go see how Mrs. Catbird +is getting along." + +Kitty disappeared and Peter, having no one to talk to, decided +that the best thing he could do would be to go home to the dear +Old Briar-patch. + + + +CHAPTER XXXV A Butcher and a Hummer. + +Not far from the Old Orchard grew a thorn-tree which Peter Rabbit +often passed. He never had paid particular attention to it. One +morning he stopped to rest under it. Happening to look up, he saw +a most astonishing thing. Fastened on the sharp thorns of one of +the branches were three big grasshoppers, a big moth, two big +caterpillars, a lizard, a small mouse and a young English +Sparrow. Do you wonder that Peter thought he must be dreaming? He +couldn't imagine how those creatures could have become fastened +on those long sharp thorns. Somehow it gave him an uncomfortable +feeling and he hurried on to the Old Orchard, bubbling over with +desire to tell some one of the strange and dreadful thing he had +seen in the thorn-tree. + +As he entered the Old Orchard in the far corner he saw Johnny +Chuck sitting on his doorstep and hurried over to tell him the +strange news. Johnny listened until Peter was through, then told +him quite frankly that never had he heard of such a thing, and +that he thought Peter must have been dreaming and didn't know it. + +"You're wrong, Johnny Chuck. Peter hasn't been dreaming at all," +said Skimmer the Swallow, who, you remember, lived in a hole in a +tree just above the entrance to Johnny Chuck's house. He had been +sitting where he could hear all that Peter had said. + +"Well, if you know so much about it, please explain," said Johnny +Chuck rather crossly. + +"It's simple enough," replied Skimmer. "Peter just happened to +find the storehouse of Butcher the Loggerhead Shrike. It isn't a +very pleasant sight, I must admit, but one must give Butcher +credit for being smart enough to lay up a store of food when it +is plentiful." + +"And who is Butcher the Shrike?" demanded Peter. "He's a new one +to me. + +"He's new to this location," replied Skimmer, "and you probably +haven't noticed him. I've seen him in the South often. There he +is now, on the tiptop of that tree over yonder." + +Peter and Johnny looked eagerly. They saw a bird who at first +glance appeared not unlike Mocker the Mockingbird. He was dressed +wholly in black, gray and white. When he turned his head they +noticed a black stripe across the side of his face and that the +tip of his bill was hooked. These are enough to make them forget +that otherwise he was like Mocker. While they were watching him +he flew down into the grass and picked up a grasshopper. Then he +flew with a steady, even flight, only a little above the ground, +for some distance, suddenly shooting up and returning to the +perch where they had first seen him. There he ate the grasshopper +and resumed his watch for something else to catch. + +"He certainly has wonderful eyes," said Skimmer admiringly. "He +mast have seen that grasshopper way over there in the grass +before he started after it, for he flew straight there. He +doesn't waste time and energy hunting aimlessly. He sits on a +high perch and watches until he sees something he wants. Many +times I've seen him sitting on top of a telegraph pole. I +understand that Bully the English Sparrow has become terribly +nervous since the arrival of Butcher. He is particularly fond of +English Sparrows. I presume it was one of Bully's children you +saw in the thorn-tree, Peter. For my part I hope he'll frighten +Bully into leaving the Old Orchard. It would he a good thing for +the rest of us." + +"But I don't understand yet why he fastens his victims on those +long thorns," said Peter. + +"For two reasons," replied Skimmer. "When he catches more +grasshoppers and other insects than he can eat, he sticks them on +those thorns so that later he may be sure of a good meal if it +happens there are no more to be caught when he is hungry. Mice, +Sparrows, and things too big for him to swallow he sticks on the +thorns so that he can pull them to pieces easier. You see his +feet and claws are not big and stout enough to hold his victims +while he tears them to pieces with his hooked bill. Sometimes, +instead of sticking them on thorns, he sticks them on the barbed +wire of a fence and sometimes he wedges them into the fork of two +branches." + +"Does he kill many birds?" asked Peter. + +"Not many," replied Skimmer, "and most of those he does kill are +English Sparrows. The rest of us have learned to keep out of his +way. He feeds mostly on insects, worms and caterpillars, but he +is very fond of mice and he catches a good many. He is a good +deal like Killy the Sparrow Hawk in this respect. He has a +cousin, the Great Northern Shrike, who sometimes comes down in +the winter, and is very much like him. Hello! Now what's +happened?" + +A great commotion had broken out not far away in the Old Orchard. +Instantly Skimmer flew over to see what it was all about and +Peter followed. He got there just in time to see Chatterer the +Red Squirrel dodging around the trunk of a tree, first on one +side, then on the other, to avoid the sharp bills of the angry +feathered folk who had discovered him trying to rob a nest of its +young. + +Peter chuckled. "Chatterer is getting just what is due him, I +guess," he muttered. "It reminds me of the time I got into a +Yellow Jacket's nest. My, but those birds are mad!" + +Chatterer continued to dodge from side to side of the tree while +the birds darted down at him, all screaming at the top of their +voices. Finally Chatterer saw his chance to run for the old stone +wall. Only one bird was quick enough to catch up with him and +that one was such a tiny fellow that he seemed hardly bigger than +a big insect. It was Hammer the Hummingbird. He followed +Chatterer clear to the old stone wall. A moment later Peter heard +a humming noise just over his head and looked up to see Hummer +himself alight on a twig, where he squeaked excitedly for a few +minutes, for his voice is nothing but a little squeak. + +Often Peter had seen Hummer darting about from flower to flower +and holding himself still in mid-air in front of each as he +thrust his long bill into the heart of the blossom to get the +tiny insects there and the sweet juices he is so fond of. But +this was the first time Peter had ever seen him sitting still. He +was such a mite of a thing that it was hard to realize that he +was a bird. His back was a bright, shining green. His wings and +tail were brownish with a purplish tinge. Underneath he was +whitish, But it was his throat on which Peter fixed his eyes. It +was a wonderful ruby-red that glistened and shone in the sun like +a jewel. + +Hummer lifted one wing and with his long needle-like bill +smoothed the feathers under it. Then he darted out into the air, +his wings moving so fast that Peter couldn't see them at all. But +if he couldn't see them he could hear them. You see they moved so +fast that they made a sound very like the humming of Bumble the +Bee. It is because of this that he is called the Hummingbird. A +fey' minutes later he was back again and now he was joined by +Mrs. Hummer. She was dressed very much like Hummer but did not +have the beautiful ruby throat. She stopped only a minute or two, +then darted over to what looked for all the world like a tiny cup +of moss. It was their nest. + +Just then Jenny Wren came along, and being quite worn out with +the work of feeding her seven babies, she was content to rest for +a few moments and gossip. Peter told her what he had discovered. + +"I know all about that," retorted Jenny. "You don't suppose I +hunt these trees over for food without knowing where my neighbors +are living, do you? I'd have you to understand, Peter, that that +is the daintiest nest in the Old Orchard. It is made wholly of +plant down and covered on the outside with bits of that gray +moss-like stuff that grows on the bark of the trees and is called +lichens. That is what makes that nest look like nothing more than +a knot on the branch. Chatterer made a big mistake when he +visited this tree. Hummer may he a tiny fellow but he isn't +afraid of anybody under the sun. That bill of his is so sharp and +he is so quick that few folks ever bother him more than once. +Why, there isn't a single member of the Hawk family that Hummer +won't attack. There isn't a cowardly feather on him." + +"Does he go very far south for the winter?" asked Peter. "He is +such a tiny fellow I don't see how he can stand a very long +journey." + +"Huh!" exclaimed Jenny Wren. "Distance doesn't bother Hummer any. +You needn't worry about those wings of his. He goes clear down to +South America. He has ever so many relatives down there. You +ought to see his babies when they first hatch out. They are no +bigger than bees. But they certainly do grow fast. Why, they are +flying three weeks from the time they hatch. I'm glad I don't +have to pump food down the throats of my youngsters the way Mrs. +Hummingbird has to down hers." + +Peter looked perplexed. "What do you mean by pumping food down +their throats?" he demanded. + +"Just what I say," retorted Jenny Wren. "Mrs. Hummer sticks her +bill right down their throats and then pumps up the food she has +already swallowed. I guess it is a good thing that the babies +have short bills." + +"Do they?" asked Peter, opening his eyes very wide with surprise. + +"Yes," replied Jenny. "When they hatch out they have short bills, +but it doesn't take them a great while to grow long." + +"How many babies does Mrs. Hummer usually have?" asked Peter. + +"Just two," replied Jenny. "Just two. That's all that nest will +hold. But goodness gracious, Peter, I can't stop gossiping here +any longer. You have no idea what a care seven babies are." + +With a jerk of her tail off flew Jenny Wren, and Peter hurried +back to tell Johnny Chuck all he had found out about Hummer the +Hummingbird. + + + +CHAPTER XXXVI A Stranger and a Dandy. + +Butcher the Shrike was not the only newcomer in the Old Orchard. +There was another stranger who, Peter Rabbit soon discovered, was +looked on with some suspicion by all the other birds of the Old +Orchard. The first time Peter saw him, he was walking about on +the ground some distance off. He didn't hop but walked, and at +that distance he looked all black. The way he carried himself and +his movements as he walked made Peter think of Creaker the +Grackle. In fact, Peter mistook him for Creaker. That was because +he didn't really look at him. If he had he would have seen at +once that the stranger was smaller than Creaker. + +Presently the stranger flew up in a tree and Peter saw that his +tail was little more than half as long as that of Creaker. At +once it came over Peter that this was a stranger to him, and of +course his curiosity was aroused. He didn't have any doubt +whatever that this was a member of the Blackbird family, but +which one it could be he hadn't the least idea. "Jenny Wren will +know," thought Peter and scampered off to hunt her up. + +"Who is that new member of the Blackbird family who has come +to live in the Old Orchard?" Peter asked as soon as he found +Jenny Wren. + +"There isn't any new member of the Blackbird family living in +the Old Orchard," retorted Jenny Wren tartly. + +"There is too," contradicted Peter. "I saw him with my own +eyes. I can see him now. He's sitting in that tree over yonder +this very minute. He's all black, so of course he must be a +member of the Blackbird family." + +"Tut, tut, tut, tut, tut!" scolded Jenny Wren. "Tut, tut, +tut, tut, tut! That fellow isn't a member of the Blackbird +family at all, and what's more, he isn't black. Go over there +and take a good look at him; then come back and tell me if you +still think he is black." + +Jenny turned her back on Peter and went to hunting worms. There +being nothing else to do, Peter hopped over where he could get +a good look at the stranger. The sun was shining full on him, and +he wasn't black at all. Jenny Wren was right. For the most part +he was very dark green. At least, that is what Peter thought at +first glance. Then, as the stranger moved, he seemed to be a +rich purple in places. In short he changed color as he turned. +His feathers were like those of Creaker the Grackle--iridescent. +All over he was speckled with tiny light spots. Underneath he +was dark brownish-gray. His wings and tail were of the same color, +with little touches of buff. His rather large bill was yellow. + +Peter hurried back to Jenny Wren and it must be confessed he +looked sheepish. "You were right, Jenny Wren; he isn't black at +all," confessed Peter. "Of course I was right. I usually am," +retorted Jenny. "He isn't black, he isn't even related to the +Blackbird family, and he hasn't any business in the Old Orchard. +In fact, if you ask me, he hasn't any business in this country +anyway. He's a foreigner. That's what he is--a foreigner." + +"But you haven't told me who he is," protested Peter. + +"He is Speckles the Starling, and he isn't really an American at +all," replied Jenny. "He comes from across the ocean the same as +Bully the English Sparrow. Thank goodness he hasn't such a +quarrelsome disposition as Bully. Just the same, the rest of us +would be better satisfied if he were not here. He has taken +possession of one of the old homes of Yellow Wing the Flicker, +and that means one less house for birds who really belong here. +If his family increases at the rate Bully's family does, I'm +afraid some of us will soon be crowded out of the Old Orchard. +Did you notice that yellow bill of his?" + +Peter nodded. "I certainly did," said he. "I couldn't very well +help noticing it." + +"Well, there's a funny thing about that bill," replied Jenny. +"In winter it turns almost black. Most of us wear a different +colored suit in winter, but our bills remain the same." + +"Well, he seems to be pretty well fixed here, and I don't see +but what the thing for the rest of you birds to do is to make +the best of the matter," said Peter. "What I want to know is +whether or not he is of any use." + +"I guess he must do some good," admitted Jenny Wren rather +grudgingly. "I've seen him picking up worms and grubs, but he +likes grain, and I have a suspicion that if his family becomes +very numerous, and I suspect it will, they will eat more of +Farmer Brown's grain than they will pay for by the worms and bugs +they destroy. Hello! There's Dandy the Waxwing and his friends." + +A flock of modestly dressed yet rather distinguished looking +feathered folks had alighted in a cherry-tree and promptly began +to help themselves to Farmer Brown's cherries. They were about +the size of Winsome Bluebird, but did not look in the least like +him, for they were dressed almost wholly in beautiful, rich, soft +grayish-brown. Across the end of each tail was a yellow band. On +each, the forehead, chin and a line through each eye was +velvety-black. Each wore a very stylish pointed cap, and on the +wings of most of them were little spots of red which looked like +sealing-wax, and from which they get the name of Waxwings. They +were slim and trim and quite dandified, and in a quiet way were +really beautiful. + +As Peter watched them he began to wonder if Farmer Brown would +have any cherries left. Peter himself can do pretty well in the +matter of stuffing his stomach, but even he marvelled at the way +those birds put the cherries out of sight. It was quite clear to +him why they are often called Cberrybirds. + +"If they stay long, Farmer Brown won't have any cherries left," +remarked Peter. + +"Don't worry," replied Jenny Wren. "They won't stay long. I +don't know anybody equal to them for roaming about. Here are most +of us with families on our hands and Mr. and Mrs. Bluebird with a +second family and Mr. and Mrs. Robin with a second set of eggs, +while those gadabouts up there haven't even begun to think about +housekeeping yet. They certainly do like those cherries, but I +guess Farmer Brown can stand the loss of what they eat. He may +have fewer cherries, but he'll have more apples because of them." + +"Bow's that?" demanded Peter. + +"Oh," replied Jenny Wren, "they were over here a while ago when +those little green cankerworms threatened to eat up the whole +orchard, and they stuffed themselves on those worms just the same +as they are stuffing themselves on cherries now. They are very +fond of small fruits but most of those they eat are the wild kind +which are of no use at all to Farmer Brown or anybody else. Now +just look at that performance, will you?" + +There were five of the Waxwings and they were now seated side by +side on a branch of the cherry tree. One of them had a plump +cherry which he passed to the next one. This one passed it on to +the next, and so it went to the end of the row and halfway back +before it was finally eaten. Peter laughed right out. "Never in +my life have I seen such politeness," said he. + +"Huh!" exclaimed Jenny Wren. "I don't believe it was politeness +at all. I guess if you got at the truth of the matter you would +find that each one was stuffed so full that he thought he didn't +have room for that cherry and so passed it along." + +"Well, I think that was politeness just the same," retorted +Peter. "The first one might have dropped the cherry if he +couldn't eat it instead of passing it along." Just then the +Waxwings flew away. + +It was the very middle of the summer before Peter Rabbit again +saw Dandy the Waxwing. Quite by chance he discovered Dandy +sitting on the tiptop of an evergreen tree, as if on guard. He +was on guard, for in that tree was his nest, though Peter didn't +know it at the time. In fact, it was so late in the summer that +most of Peter's friends were through nesting and he had quite +lost interest in nests. Presently Dandy flew down to a lower +branch and there he was joined by Mrs. Waxwing. Then Peter was +treated to one of the prettiest sights he ever had seen. They +rubbed their bills together as if kissing. They smoothed each +other's feathers and altogether were a perfect picture of two +little lovebirds. Peter couldn't think of another couple who +appeared quite so gentle and loving. + +Late in the fall Peter saw Mr. and Mrs. Waxwing and their family +together. They were in a cedar tree and were picking off and +eating the cedar berries as busily as the five Waxwings had picked +Farmer Brown's cherries in the early summer. Peter didn't know it +but because of their fondness for cedar berries the Waxwings were +often called Cedarbirds or Cedar Waxwings. + + + +CHAPTER XXXVII Farewells and Welcomes. + +All through the long summer Peter Rabbit watched his feathered +friends and learned things in regard to their ways he never had +suspected. As he saw them keeping the trees of the Old Orchard +free of insect pests working in Farmer Brown's garden, and +picking up the countless seeds of weeds everywhere, he began to +understand something of the wonderful part these feathered +folks have in keeping the Great World beautiful and worth while +living in. + +He had many a hearty laugh as he watched the bird babies learn +to fly and to find their own food. All summer long they were +going to school all about him, learning how to watch out for +danger, to use their eyes and ears, and all the things a bird +must know who would live to grow up. + +As autumn drew near Peter discovered that his friends were +gathering in flocks, roaming here and there. It was one of the +first signs that summer was nearly over, and it gave him just a +little feeling of sadness. He heard few songs now, for the +singing season was over. Also he discovered that many of the most +beautifully dressed of his feathered friends had changed their +finery for sober traveling suits in preparation for the long +journey to the far South where they would spend the winter. In +fact he actually failed to recognize some of them at first. + +September came, and as the days grew shorter, some of Peter's +friends bade him good-by. They were starting on the long journey, +planning to take it in easy stages for the most part. Each day +saw some slip away. As Peter thought of the dangers of the long +trip before them he wondered if he would ever see them again. But +some there were who lingered even after Jack Frost's first visit. +Welcome and Mrs. Robin, Winsome and Mrs. Bluebird. Little Friend +the Song Sparrow and his wife were among these. By and by even +they were forced to leave. + +Sad indeed and lonely would these days have been for Peter had it +not been that with the departure of the friends he had spent so +many happy hours with came the arrival of certain other friends +from the Far North where they had made their summer homes. Some +of these stopped for a few days in passing. Others came to stay, +and Peter was kept busy looking for and welcoming them. + +A few old friends there were who would stay the year through. +Sammy Jay was one. Downy and Hairy the Woodpeckers were others. +And one there was whom Peter loves dearly. It was Tommy Tit the +Chickadee. + +Now Tommy Tit had not gone north in the spring. In fact, he had +made his home not very far from the Old Orchard. It just happened +that Peter hadn't found that home, and had caught only one or two +glimpses of Tommy Tit. Now, with household cares ended and his +good-sized family properly started in life, Tommy Tit was no +longer interested in the snug little home he had built in a +hollow birch-stub, and he and Mrs. Chickadee spent their time +flitting about hither, thither, and yon, spreading good cheer. +Every time Peter visited the Old Orchard he found him there, and +as Tommy was always ready for a bit of merry gossip, Peter soon +ceased to miss Jenny Wren. + +"Don't you dread the winter, Tommy Tit?" asked Peter one day, +as he watched Tommy clinging head down to a twig as he picked +some tiny insect eggs from the under side. + +"Not a bit," replied Tommy. "I like winter. I like cold weather. +It makes a fellow feel good from the tips of his claws to the +tip of his bill. I'm thankful I don't have to take that long +journey most of the birds have to. I discovered a secret a long +time ago, Peter; shall I tell it to you?" + +"Please, Tommy," cried Peter. "You know how I love secrets." + +"Well," replied Tommy Tit, "this is it: If a fellow keeps his +stomach filled he will beep his toes warm." + +Peter looked a, little puzzled. "I--I--don't just see what your +stomach has to do with your toes," said he. + +Tommy Tit chuckled. It was a lovely throaty little chuckle. "Dee, +dee, dee!" said he. "What I mean is, if a fellow has plenty to +eat he will keep the cold out, and I've found that if a fellow +uses his eyes and isn't afraid of a little work, he can find +plenty to eat. At least I can. The only time I ever get really +worried is when the trees are covered with ice. If it were not +that Farmer Brown's boy is thoughtful enough to hang a piece of +suet in a tree for me, I should dread those ice storms more than +I do. As I said before, plenty of food keeps a fellow warm." + +"I thought it was your coat of feathers that kept you warm," said +Peter. + +"Oh, the feathers help," replied Tommy Tit. "Food makes heat and +a warm coat keeps the heat in the body. But the heat has got to +be there first, or the feathers will do no good. It's just the +same way with your own self, Peter. You know you are never really +warm in winter unless you have plenty to eat..." + +"That's so," replied Peter thoughtfully. "I never happened to +think of it before. Just the same, I don't see how you find food +enough on the trees when they are all bare in winter." + +"Dee, Dee, Chickadee! +Leave that matter just to me," + +Chuckled Tommy Tit. "You ought to know by this time Peter Rabbit, +that a lot of different kinds of bugs lay eggs on the twigs and +trunks of trees. Those eggs would stay there all winter and in +the spring hatch out into lice and worms if it were not for me. +Why, sometimes in a single day I find and eat almost five hundred +eggs of those little green plant lice that do so much damage in +the spring and summer. Then there are little worms that bore in +just under the bark, and there are other creatures who sleep the +winter away in little cracks in the bark. Oh, there is plenty for +me to do in the winter. I am one of the policemen of the trees. +Downy and Hairy the Woodpeckers, Seep-Seep the Brown Creeper and +Yank-Yank the Nuthatch are others. If we didn't stay right here +on the job all winter, I don't know what would become of the Old +Orchard." + +Tommy Tit hung head downward from a twig while he picked some tiny +insect eggs from the under side of it. It didn't seem to make the +least difference to Tommy whether he was right side up or upside +down. He was a little animated bunch of black and white feathers, +not much bigger than Jenny Wren. The top of his head, back of his +neck and coat were shining black. The sides of his head and neck +were white. His back was ashy. His sides were a soft cream-buff, +and his wing and tail feathers were edged with white. His tiny +bill was black, and his little black eyes snapped and twinkled in +a way good to see. Not one among all Peter's friends is such a +merry-hearted little fellow as Tommy Tit the Chickadee. Merriment +and happiness bubble out of him all the time, no matter what the +weather is. He is the friend of everyone and seems to feel that +everyone is his friend. + +"I've noticed," said Peter, "that birds who do not sing at any +other time of year sing in the spring. Do you have a spring song, +Tommy Tit?" + +"Well, I don't know as you would call it a song, Peter," chuckled +Tommy. "No, I hardly think you would call it a song. But I have a +little love call then which goes like this: Phoe-be! Phoe-be!" + +It was the softest, sweetest little whistle, and Tommy had +rightly called it a love call. "Why, I've often heard that in the +spring and didn't know it was your voice at all," cried Peter. +"You say Phoebe plainer than does the bird who is named Phoebe, +and it is ever so much softer and sweeter. I guess that is +because you whistle it." + +"I guess you guess right," replied Tommy Tit. "Now I can't stop +to talk any longer. These trees need my attention. I want Farmer +Brown's boy to feel that I have earned that suet I am sure he +will put out for me as soon as the snow and ice come. I'm not the +least bit afraid of Farmer Brown's boy. I had just as soon take +food from his hand as from anywhere else. He knows I like +chopped-up nut-meats, and last winter I used to feed from his +hand every day." Peter's eyes opened very wide with surprise. +"Do you mean to say," said he, "that you and Farmer Brown's boy +are such friends that you dare sit on his hand?" + +Tommy Tit nodded his little black-capped head vigorously. +"Certainly," said he. "Why not? What's the good of having friends +if you can't trust them? The more you trust them the better +friends they'll be." + +Just the same, I don't see how you dare to do it," Peter replied. +"I know Farmer Brown's boy is the friend of all the little +people, and I'm not much afraid of him myself, but just the same +I wouldn't dare go near enough for him to touch me." + +"Pooh!" retorted Tommy Tit. "That's no way of showing true +friendship. You've no idea, Peter, what a comfortable feeling it +is to know that you can trust a friend, and I feel that Farmer +Brown's boy is one of the best friends I've got. I wish more boys +and girls were like him." + + + +CHAPTER XXXVIII Honker and Dippy Arrive. + +The leaves of the trees turned yellow and red and brown and then +began to drop, a few at first, then more and more every day until +all but the spruce-trees and the pine-trees and the hemlock-trees +and the fir-trees and the cedar-trees were bare. By this time +most of Peter's feathered friends of the summer had departed, and +there were days when Peter had oh, such a lonely feeling. The fur +of his coat was growing thicker. The grass of the Green Meadows +had turned brown. All these things were signs which Peter knew +well. He knew that rough Brother North Wind and Jack Frost were +on their way down from the Far North. + +Peter had few friends to visit now. Johnny Chuck had gone to +sleep for the winter 'way down in his little bedroom under +ground. Grandfather Frog had also gone to sleep. So had Old Mr. +Toad. Peter spent a great deal of time in the dear Old +Briar-patch just sitting still and listening. What he was +listening for he didn't know. It just seemed to him that there +was something he ought to hear at this time of year, and so he +sat listening and listening and wondering what he was listening +for. Then, late one afternoon, there came floating down to him +from high up in the sky, faintly at first but growing louder, a +sound unlike any Peter had heard all the long summer through. The +sound was a voice. Rather it was many voices mingled "Honk, honk, +honk, honk, honk, honk, honk!" Peter gave a little jump. + +"That's what I've been listening for!" he cried. "Honker the +Goose and his friends are coming. Oh, I do hope they will stop +where I can pay them a call." + +He hopped out to the edge of the dear Old Briar-patch that he +might see better, and looked up in the sky. High up, flying in +the shape of a letter V, he saw a flock of great birds flying +steadily from the direction of the Far North. By the sound of +their voices he knew that they had flown far that day and were +tired. One bird was in the lead and this he knew to be his old +friend, Honker. Straight over his head they passed and as Peter +listened to their voices he felt within him the very spirit of +the Far North, that great, wild, lonely land which he had never +seen but of which he had so often heard. + +As Peter watched, Honker suddenly turned and headed in the +direction of the Big River. Then he began to slant down, his +flock following him. And presently they disappeared behind the +trees along the bank of the Great River. Peter gave a happy +little sigh. "They are going to spend the night there," thought +he. "When the moon comes up, I will run over there, for they will +come ashore and I know just where. Now that they have arrived I +know that winter is not far away. Honker's voice is as sure a +sign of the coming of winter as is Winsome Bluebird's that spring +will soon be here." + +Peter could hardly wait for the coming of the Black Shadows, and +just as soon as they had crept out over the Green Meadows he +started for the Big River. He knew just where to go, because he +knew that Honker and his friends would rest and spend the night +in the same place they had stopped at the year before. He knew +that they would remain out in the middle of the Big River until +the Black Shadows had made it quite safe for them to swim in. He +reached the bank of the Big River just as sweet Mistress Moon was +beginning to throw her silvery light over the Great World. There +was a sandy bar in the Great River at this point, and Peter +squatted on the bank just where this sandy bar began. + +It seemed to Peter that he had sat there half the night, but +really it was only a short time, before he heard a low signal out +in the Black Shadows which covered the middle of the Big River. +It was the voice of Honker. Then Peter saw little silvery lines +moving on the water and presently a dozen great shapes appeared +in the moonlight. Honker and his friends were swimming in. The +long neck of each of those great birds was stretched to its full +height, and Peter knew that each bird was listening for the +slightest suspicious sound. Slowly they drew near, Honker in the +lead. They were a picture of perfect caution. When they reached +the sandy bar they remained quiet, looking and listening for some +time. Then, sure that all was safe, Honker gave a low signal and +at once a low gabbling began as the big birds relaxed their +watchfulness and came out on the sandy bar, all save one. That +one was the guard, and he remained with neck erect on watch. Some +swam in among the rushes growing in the water very near to where +Peter was sitting and began to feed. Others sat on the sandy bar +and dressed their feathers. Honker himself came ashore close to +where Peter was sitting. + +"Oh, Honker," cried Peter, "I'm so glad you're back here safe and +sound." + +Honker gave a little start, but instantly recognizing Peter, came +over close to him. As he stood there in the moonlight he was +truly handsome. His throat and a large patch on each side of his +head were white. The rest of his head and long, slim neck were +black. His short tail was also black. His back, wings, breast and +sides were a soft grayish-brown. He was white around the base of +his tail and he wore a white collar. + +"Hello, Peter," said he. "It is good to have an old friend greet +me. I certainly am glad to be back safe and sound, for the +hunters with terrible guns have been at almost every one of our +resting places, and it has been hard work to get enough to eat. +It is a relief to find one place where there are no terrible +guns." + +"Have you come far?" asked Peter. + +"Very far, Peter; very far," replied Honker. "And we still have +very far to go. I shall be thankful when the journey is over, for +on me depends the safety of all those with me, and it is a great +responsibility." + +"Will winter soon be here?" asked Peter eagerly. + +"Rough Brother North Wind and Jack Frost were right behind us," +replied Honker. "You know we stay in the Far North just as long +as we can. Already the place where we nested is frozen and +covered with snow. For the first part of the journey we kept only +just ahead of the snow and ice, but as we drew near to where men +make their homes we were forced to make longer journeys each day, +for the places where it is safe to feed and rest are few and far +between. Now we shall hurry on until we reach the place in the +far-away South where we will make our winter home." + +Just then Honker was interrupted by wild, strange sounds from the +middle of the Great River. It sounded like crazy laughter. Peter +jumped at the sound, but Honker merely chuckled. "It's Dippy the +Loon," said he. "He spent the summer in the Far North not far +from us. He started south just before we did." + +"I wish he would come in here so that I can get a good look at +him and make his acquaintance," said Peter. + +"He may, but I doubt it," replied Honker. "He and his mate are +great people to keep by themselves. Then, too, they don't have +to come ashore for food. You know Dippy feeds altogether on fish. +He really has an easier time on the long journey than we do, +because he can get his food without running so much risk of being +shot by the terrible hunters. He practically lives on the water. +He's about the most awkward fellow on land of any one I know." + +"Why should he be any more awkward on land then you?" asked +Peter, his curiosity aroused at once. + +"Because," replied Honker, "Old Mother Nature has given him very +short legs and has placed them so far back on his body that he +can't keep his balance to walk, and has to use his wings and bill +to help him over the ground. On shore he is about the most +helpless thing you can imagine. But on water he is another fellow +altogether. He's just as much at home under water as on top. My, +how that fellow can dive! When he sees the flash of a gun he will +get under water before the shot can reach him. That's where he +has the advantage of us Geese. You know we can't dive. He could +swim clear across this river under water if he wanted to, and he +can go so fast under water that he can catch a fish. It is +because his legs have been placed so far back that he can swim so +fast. You know his feet are nothing but big paddles. Another +funny thing is that he can sink right down in the water when he +wants to, with nothing but his head out. I envy him that. It +would be a lot easier for us Geese to escape the dreadful hunters +if we could sink down that way." + +"Has he a bill like yours?" asked Peter innocently. + +"Of course not," replied Honker. "Didn't I tell you that he lives +on fish? How do you suppose he would hold on to his slippery fish +if he had a broad bill like mine? His bill is stout, straight and +sharp pointed. He is rather a handsome fellow. He is pretty +nearly as big as I am, and his back, wings, tail and neck are +black with bluish or greenish appearance in the sun. His back and +wings are spotted with white, and there are streaks of white on +his throat and the sides of his neck. On his breast and below he +is all white. You certainly ought to get acquainted with Dippy, +Peter, for there isn't anybody quite like him." + +"I'd like to," replied Peter. "But if he never comes to shore, +how can I? I guess I will have to be content to know him just by +his voice. I certainly never will forget that. It's about as +crazy sounding as the voice of Old Man Coyote, and that is saying +a great deal." + +"There's one thing I forgot to tell you," said Honker. "Dippy +can't fly from the land; he must be on the water in order to get +up in the air." + +"You can, can't you?" asked Peter. + +"Of course I can," replied Honker. "Why, we Geese get a lot of +our food on land. When it is safe to do so we visit the grain +fields and pick up the grain that has been shaken out during +harvest. Of course we couldn't do that if we couldn't fly from +the land. We can rise from either land or water equally well. Now +if you'll excuse me, Peter, I'll take a nap. My, but I'm tired! +And I've got a long journey to-morrow." + +So Peter politely bade Honker and his relatives good-night and +left them in peace on the sandy bar in the Big River. + + + +CHAPTER XXXIX Peter Discovers Two Old Friends. + +Rough Brother North Wind and Jack Frost were not far behind +Honker the Goose. In a night Peter Rabbit's world was +transformed. It had become a new world, a world of pure white. +The last laggard among Peter's feathered friends who spend the +winter in the far-away South had hurried away. Still Peter was +not lonely. Tommy Tit's cheery voice greeted Peter the very first +thing that morning after the storm. Tommy seemed to be in just as +good spirits as ever he had been in summer. + +Now Peter rather likes the snow. He likes to run about in it, and +so he followed Tommy Tit up to the Old Orchard. He felt sure that +he would find company there besides Tommy Tit, and he was not +disappointed. Downy and Hairy the Woodpeckers were getting their +breakfast from a piece of suet Farmer Brown's boy had +thoughtfully fastened in one of the apple-trees for them. Sammy +Jay was there also, and his blue coat never had looked better +than it did against the pure white of the snow. + +These were the only ones Peter really had expected to find in the +Old Orchard, and so you can guess how pleased he was as he hopped +over the old stone wall to hear the voice of one whom he had +almost forgotten. It was the voice of Yank-Yank the Nuthatch, and +while it was far from being sweet there was in it something of +good cheer and contentment. At once Peter hurried in the +direction from which it came. + +On the trunk of an apple-tree he caught sight of a gray and black +and white bird about the size of Downy the Woodpecker. The top of +his head and upper part of his back were shining black. The rest +of his back was bluish-gray. The sides of his head and his breast +were white. The outer feathers of his tail were black with white +patches near their tips. + +But Peter didn't need to see how Yank-Yank was dressed in order +to recognize him. Peter would have known him if he had been so +far away that the colors of his coat did not show at all. You +see, Yank-Yank was doing a most surprising thing, something no +other bird can do. He was walking head first down the trunk of +that tree, picking tiny eggs of insects from the bark and +seemingly quite as much at home and quite as unconcerned in that +queer position as if he were right side up. + +As Peter approached, Yank-Yank lifted his head and called a +greeting which sounded very much like the repetition of his own +name. Then he turned around and began to climb the tree as easily +as he had come down it. + +"Welcome home, Yank-Yank!" cried Peter, hurrying up quite out of +breath. + +Yank-Yank turned around so that he was once more head down, and +his eyes twinkled as he looked down at Peter. "You're mistaken +Peter," said he. "This isn't home. I've simply come down here for +the winter. You know home is where you raise your children, and +my home is in the Great Woods farther north. There is too much +ice and snow up there, so I have come down here to spend the +winter." + +"Well anyway, it's a kind of home; it's your winter home," +protested Peter, "and I certainly am glad to see you back. The +Old Orchard wouldn't be quite the same without you. Did you have +a pleasant summer? And if you please, Yank-Yank, tell me where +you built your home and what it was like." + +"Yes, Mr. Curiosity, I had a very pleasant summer," replied +Yank-Yank. "Mrs. Yank-Yank and I raised a family of six and that +is doing a lot better than some folks I know, if I do say it. As +to our nest, it was made of leaves and feathers and it was in a +hole in a certain old stump that not a soul knows of but Mrs. +Yank-Yank and myself. Now is there anything else you want to +know?" + +"Yes," retorted Peter promptly. "I want to know how it is that +you can walk head first down the trunk of a tree without losing +your balance and tumbling off." + +Yank-Yank chuckled happily. "I discovered a long time ago, +Peter," said he, "that the people who get on best in this world +are those who make the most of what they have and waste no time +wishing they could have what other people have. I suppose you +have noticed that all the Woodpecker family have stiff tail +feathers and use them to brace themselves when they are climbing +a tree. They have become so dependent on them that they don't +dare move about on the trunk of a tree without using them. If +they want to come down a tree they have to back down. + +"Now Old Mother Nature didn't give me stiff tail feathers, but +she gave me a very good pair of feet with three toes in front and +one behind and when I was a very little fellow I learned to make +the most of those feet. Each toe has a sharp claw. When I go up a +tree the three front claws on each foot hook into the bark. When +I come down a tree I simply twist one foot around so that I can +use the claws of this foot to keep me from falling. It is just as +easy for me to go down a tree as it is to go up, and I can go +right around the trunk just as easily and comfortably." Suiting +action to the word, Yank-Yank ran around the trunk of the +apple-tree just above Peter's head. When he reappeared Peter had +another question ready. + +"Do you live altogether on grubs and worms and insects and their +eggs?" he asked. + +"I should say not!" exclaimed Yank-Yank. "I like acorns and +beechnuts and certain kinds of seeds." + +"I don't see how such a little fellow as you can eat such hard +things as acorns and beechnuts," protested Peter a little +doubtfully. + +Yank-Yank laughed right out. "Sometime when I see you over in the +Green Forest I'll show you," said he. "When I find a fat beechnut +I take it to a little crack in a tree that will just hold it; +then with this stout bill of mine I crack the shell. It really is +quite easy when you know how. Cracking a nut open that way is +sometimes called hatching, and that is how I come by the name of +Nuthatch. Hello! There's Seep-Seep. I haven't seen him since we +were together up North. His home was not far from mine." + +As Yank-Yank spoke, a little brown bird alighted at the very foot +of the next tree. He was just a trifle bigger than Jenny Wren but +not at all like Jenny, for while Jenny's tail usually is cocked +up in the sauciest way, Seep-Seep's tail is never cocked up at +all. In fact, it bends down, for Seep-Seep uses his tail just as +the members of the Woodpecker family use theirs. He was dressed +in grayish-brown above and grayish-white beneath. Across each +wing was a little band of buffy-white, and his bill was curved +just a little. + +Seep-Seep didn't stop an instant but started up the trunk of that +tree, going round and round it as he climbed, and picking out +things to eat from under the bark. His way of climbing that tree +was very like creeping, and Peter thought to himself that +Seep-Seep was well named the Brown Creeper. He knew it was quite +useless to try to get Seep-Seep to talk, He knew that Seep-Seep +wouldn't waste any time that way. + +Round and round up the trunk of the tree he went, and when he +reached the top at once flew down to the bottom of the next tree +and without a pause started up that. He wasted no time exploring +the branches, but stuck to the trunk. Once in a while he would +cry in a thin little voice, "Seep! Seep!" but never paused to +rest or look around. If he had felt that on him alone depended +the job of getting all the insect eggs and grubs on those trees +he could not have been more industrious. + +"Does he build his nest in a hole in a tree?" asked Peter of +Yank-Yank. Yank-Yank shook his head. "No," he replied. "He hunts +for a tree or stub with a piece of loose bark hanging to it. In +behind this he tucks his nest made of twigs, strips of bark and +moss. He's a funny little fellow and I don't know of any one in +all the great world who more strictly attends to his own business +than does Seep-Seep the Brown Creeper. By the way, Peter, have +you seen anything of Dotty the Tree Sparrow?" + +"Not yet," replied Peter, "but I think he must be here. I'm glad +you reminded me of him. I'll go look for him. + + + + +CHAPTER XL Some Merry Seed-Eaters. + +Having been reminded of Dotty the Tree Sparrow, Peter Rabbit +became possessed of a great desire to find this little friend of +the cold months and learn how he had fared through the summer. + +He was at a loss just where to look for Dotty until he remembered +a certain weedy field along the edge of which the bushes had been +left growing. "Perhaps I'll find him there," thought Peter, for +he remembered that Dotty lives almost wholly on seeds, chiefly +weed seeds, and that he dearly loves a weedy field with bushes +not far distant in which he can hide. + +So Peter hurried over to the weedy field and there, sure enough, +he found Dotty with a lot of his friends. They were very busy +getting their breakfast. Some were clinging to the weed-stalks +picking the seeds out of the tops, while others were picking up +the seeds from the ground. It was cold. Rough Brother North Wind +was doing his best to blow up another snow-cloud. It wasn't at +all the kind of day in which one would expect to find anybody in +high spirits. But Dotty was. He was even singing as Peter came +up, and all about Dotty's friends and relatives were twittering +as happily and merrily as if it were the beginning of spring +instead of winter. + +Dotty was very nearly the size of Little Friend the Song Sparrow +and looked somewhat like him, save that his breast was clear +ashy-gray, all but a little dark spot in the middle, the little +dot from which he gets his name. He wore a chestnut cap, almost +exactly like that of Chippy the Chipping Sparrow. It reminded +Peter that Dotty is often called the Winter Chippy. + +"Welcome back, Dotty!" cried Peter. "It does my heart good to see +you." + +"Thank you, Peter," twittered Dotty happily. "In a way it is +good to be back. Certainly, it is good to know that an old friend +is glad to see me." + +"Are you going to stay all winter, Dotty?" asked Peter. + +"I hope so," replied Dotty. "I certainly shall if the snow does +not get so deep that I cannot get enough to eat. Some of these +weeds are so tall that it will take a lot of snow to cover them, +and as long as the tops are above the snow I will have nothing to +worry about. You know a lot of seeds remain in these tops all +winter. But if the snow gets deep enough to cover these I shall +have to move along farther south." + +"Then I hope there won't be much snow," declared Peter very +emphatically. "There are few enough folks about in winter at +best, goodness knows, and I don't know of any one I enjoy having +for a neighbor more than I do you." + +"Thank you again, Peter," cried Dotty, "and please let me return +the compliment. I like cold weather. I like winter when there +isn't too much ice and bad weather. I always feel good in cold +weather. That is one reason I go north to nest." + +"Speaking of nests, do you build in a tree?" inquired Peter. + +"Usually on or near the ground," replied Dotty. "You know I am +really a ground bird although I am called a Tree Sparrow. Most of +us Sparrows spend our time on or near the ground." + +"I know," replied Peter. "Do you know I'm very fond of the +Sparrow family. I just love your cousin Chippy, who nests in the +Old Orchard every spring. I wish he would stay all winter. I +really don't see why he doesn't. I should think he could if you +can." + +Dotty laughed. It was a tinkling little laugh, good to hear. +"Cousin Chippy would starve to death," he declared. "It is all a +matter of food. You ought to know that by this time, Peter. +Cousin Chippy lives chiefly on worms and bugs and I live almost +wholly on seeds, and that is what makes the difference. Cousin +Chippy must go where he can get plenty to eat. I can get plenty +here and so I stay." + +"Did you and your relatives come down from the Far North alone?" +asked Peter. + +"No," replied Dotty promptly. "Slaty the Junco and his relatives +came along with us and we had a very merry party." + +Peter pricked up his ears. "Is Slaty here now?" he asked +eagerly. + +"Very much here," replied a voice right behind Peter's back. It +was so unexpected that it made Peter jump. He turned to find +Slaty himself chuckling merrily as he picked up seeds. He was +very nearly the same size as Dotty but trimmer. In fact he was +one of the trimmest, neatest appearing of all of Peter's +friends. There was no mistaking Slaty the Junco for any other +bird. His head, throat and breast were clear slate color. +Underneath he was white. His sides were grayish. His outer tail +feathers were white. His bill was flesh color. It looked almost +white. + +"Welcome! Welcome!" cried Peter. "Are you here to stay all +winter?" + +I certainly am," was Slaty's prompt response. "It will take +pretty bad weather to drive me away from here. If the snow gets +too deep I'll just go up to Farmer Brown's barnyard. I can always +pick up a meal there, for Farmer Brown's boy is a very good +friend of mine. I know he won't let me starve, no matter what the +weather is. I think it is going to snow some more. I like the +snow. You know I am sometimes called the Snowbird." + +Peter nodded. "So I have heard," said he, "though I think that +name really belongs to Snowflake the Snow Bunting." + +"Quite right, Peter, quite right," replied Slaty. "I much prefer +my own name of Junco. My, these seeds are good!" All the time he +was busily picking up seeds so tiny that Peter didn't even see +them. + +"If you like here so much why don't you stay all the year?" +inquired Peter. + +"It gets too warm," replied Slaty promptly, + +"I hate hot weather. Give me cold weather every time." + +"Do you mean to tell me that it is cold all summer where you +nest in the Far North?" demanded Peter. + +"Not exactly cold," replied Slaty, "but a lot cooler than it is +down here. I don't go as far north to nest as Snowflake does, but +I go far enough to be fairly comfortable. I don't see how some +folks can stand hot weather." + +"It is a good thing they can," interrupted Dotty. "If everybody +liked the same things it wouldn't do at all. Just suppose all the +birds ate nothing but seeds. There wouldn't be seeds enough to go +around, and a lot of us would starve. Then, too, the worms and +the bugs would eat up everything. So, take it all together, it is +a mighty good thing that some birds live almost wholly on worms +and bugs and such things, leaving the seeds to the rest of us. I +guess Old Mother Nature knew what she was about when she gave us +different tastes." + +Peter nodded his head in approval. "You can always trust Old +Mother Nature to know what is best," said he sagely. "By the +way, Slaty, what do you make your nest of and where do you put +it?" + +"My nest is usually made of grasses, moss and rootlets. Sometimes +it is lined with fine grasses, and when I am lucky enough to find +them I use long hairs. Often I put my nest on the ground, and +never very far above it. I am like my friend Dotty in this +respect. It always seems to me easier to hide a nest on the +ground than anywhere else. There is nothing like having a nest +well hidden. It takes sharp eyes to find my nest, I can tell you +that, Peter Rabbit." + +Just then Dotty, who had been picking seeds out of the top of a +weed, gave a cry of alarm and instantly there was a flit of many +wings as Dotty and his relatives and Slaty sought the shelter of +the bushes along the edge of the field. Peter sat up very +straight and looked this way and looked that way. At first +he saw nothing suspicious. Then, crouching flat among the weeds, +he got a glimpse of Black Pussy, the cat from Farmer Brown's +house. She had been creeping up in the hope of catching one of +those happy little seedeaters. Peter stamped angrily. Then with +long jumps he started for the dear Old Briar-patch, +lipperty-lipperty-lip, for truth to tell, big as he was, he was a +little afraid of Black Pussy. + + + + +CHAPTER XLI More Friends Come With the Snow. + +Slaty the Junco had been quite right in thinking it was going +to snow some more. Rough Brother North Find hurried up one big +cloud after another, and late that afternoon the white feathery +flakes came drifting down out of the sky. + +Peter Rabbit sat tight in the dear Old Briar-patch. In fact +Peter did no moving about that night, but remained squatting just +inside the entrance to an old hole Johnny Chuck's grandfather had +dug long ago in the middle of the clear Old Briar-patch. Some +time before morning the snow stopped falling and then rough +Brother North Wind worked as hard to blow away the clouds as he +had done to bring them. + +When jolly, round, bright Mr. Sun began his daily climb up in the +blue, blue sky he looked down on a world of white. It seemed as +if every little snowflake twinkled back at every little sunbeam. +It was all very lovely, and Peter Rabbit rejoiced as he +scampered forth in quest of his breakfast. + +He started first for the weedy field where the day before he had +found Dotty the Tree Sparrow and Slaty the Junco. They were there +before him, having the very best time ever was as they picked +seeds from the tops of the weeds which showed above the snow. +Almost at once Peter discovered that they were not the only +seekers for seeds. Walking about on the snow, and quite as busy +seeking seeds as were Dotty and Slaty, was a bird very near their +size the top of whose head, neck and back were a soft +rusty-brown. There was some black on his wings, but the latter were +mostly white and the outer tail feathers were white. His breast +and under parts were white. It was Snowflake the Snow Bunting in +his winter suit. Peter knew him instantly. There was no mistaking +him, for, as Peter well knew, there is no other bird of his size +and shape who is so largely white. He had appeared so +unexpectedly that it almost seemed as if he must have come out of +the snow clouds just as had the snow itself. Peter had his usual +question ready. + +"Are you going to spend the winter here, Snowflake?" he cried. + +Snowflake was so busy getting his breakfast that he did not reply +at once. Peter noticed that he did not hop, but walked or ran. +Presently he paused long enough to reply to Peter's question. "If +the snow has come to stay all winter, perhaps I'll stay," said +he. + +"What has the snow to do with it?" demanded Peter. + +"Only that I like the snow and I like cold weather. When the snow +begins to disappear, I just naturally fly back farther north," +replied Snowflake. "It isn't that I don't like bare ground, +because I do, and I'm always glad when the snow is blown off in +places so that I can hunt for seeds on the ground. But when the +snow begins to melt everywhere I feel uneasy. I can't understand +how folks can be contented where there is no snow and ice. You +don't catch me going 'way down south. No, siree, you don't catch +me going 'way down south. Why, when the nesting season comes +around, I chase Jack Frost clear 'way up to where he spends the +summer. I nest 'way up on the shore of the Polar Sea, but of +course you don't know where that is, Peter Rabbit." + +"If you are so fond of the cold in the Far North, the snow and +the ice, what did you come south at all for? Why don't you stay +up there all the year around?" demanded Peter. + +"Because, Peter," replied Snowflake, twittering merrily, "like +everybody else, I have to eat in order to live. When you see me +down here you may know that the snows up north are so deep that +they have covered all the seeds. I always keep a weather eye out, +as the saying is, and the minute it looks as if there would be +too much snow for me to get a living, I move along. I hope I will +not have to go any farther than this, but if some morning you +wake up and find the snow so deep that all the heads of the weeds +are buried, don't expect to find me." + +"That's what I call good, sound common sense," said another +voice, and a bird a little bigger than Snowflake, and who at +first glance seemed to be dressed almost wholly in soft chocolate +brown, alighted in the snow close by and at once began to run +about in search of seeds. It was Wanderer the Horned Lark. +Peter hailed him joyously, for there was something of mystery +about Wanderer, and Peter, as you know, loves mystery. + +Peter had known him ever since his first winter, yet did not feel +really acquainted, for Wanderer seldom stayed long enough for a +real acquaintance. Every winter he would come, sometimes two or +three times, but seldom staying more than a few days at a time. +Quite often he and his relatives appeared with the Snowflakes, +for they are the best of friends and travel much together. + +Now as Wanderer reached up to pick seeds from a weed-top, Peter +had a good look at him. The first things he noticed were the two +little horn-like tufts of black feathers above and behind the +eyes. It is from these that Wanderer gets the name of Horned +Lark. No other bird has anything quite like them. His +forehead, a line over each eye, and his throat were yellow. +There was a black mark from each corner of the bill curving +downward just below the eye and almost joining a black +crescent-shaped band across the breast. Beneath this he was +soiled white with dusky spots showing here and there. His back +was brown, in places having almost a pinkish tinge. His tail was +black, showing a little white on the edges when he flew. All +together he was a handsome little fellow. + +"Do all of your family have those funny little horns?" asked +Peter. + +"No," was Wanderer's prompt reply. "Mrs. Lark does not have +them." + +"I think they are very becoming," said Peter politely. + +"Thank you," replied Wanderer. "I am inclined to agree with you. +You should see me when I have my summer suit." + +"Is it so very different from this?" asked Peter. "I think your +present suit is pretty enough." + +"Well said, Peter, well said," interrupted Snowflake. "I quite +agree with you. I think Wanderer's present suit is pretty enough +for any one, but it is true that his summer suit is even +prettier. It isn't so very different, but it is brighter, and +those black markings are much stronger and show up better. You +see, Wanderer is one of my neighbors in the Far North, and I know +all about him." + +"And that means that you don't know anything bad about me, +doesn't it?" chuckled Wanderer. + +Snowflake nodded. "Not a thing," he replied. "I wouldn't ask for +a better neighbor. You should hear him sing, Peter. He sings up +in the air, and it really is a very pretty song." + +"I'd just love to hear him," replied Peter. "Why don't you sing +here, Wanderer?" + +"This isn't the singing season," replied Wanderer promptly. +"Besides, there isn't time to sing when one has to keep busy +every minute in order to get enough to eat." + +"I don't see," said Peter, "why, when you get here, you don't +stay in one place." + +"Because it is easier to get a good living by moving about," +replied Wanderer promptly. "Besides, I like to visit new places. +I shouldn't enjoy being tied down in just one place like some +birds I know. Would you, Snowflake?" + +Snowflake promptly replied that he wouldn't. Just then Peter +discovered something that he hadn't known before. "My goodness," +he exclaimed, "what a long claw you have on each hind toe!" + +It was true. Each hind claw was about twice as long as any other +claw. Peter couldn't see any special use for it and he was just +about to ask more about it when Wanderer suddenly spied a flock +of his relatives some distance away and flew to join them. +Probably this saved him some embarrassment, for it is doubtful if +he himself knew why Old Mother Nature had given him such long +hind claws. + + + +CHAPTER XLII Peter Learns Something About Spooky. + +Peter Rabbit likes winter. At least he doesn't mind it so very +much, even though he has to really work for a living. Perhaps it +is a good thing that he does, for he might grow too fat to keep +out of the way of Reddy Fox. You see when the snow is deep Peter +is forced to eat whatever he can, and very often there isn't +much of anything for him but the bark of young trees. It is at +such times that Peter gets into mischief, for there is no bark he +likes better than that of young fruit trees. Now you know what +happens when the bark is taken off all the way around the trunk +of a tree. That tree dies. It dies for the simple reason that it +is up the inner layer of bark that the life-giving sap travels in +the spring and summer. Of course, when a strip of bark has been +taken off all the way around near the base of a tree, the sap +cannot go up and the tree must die. + +Now up near the Old Orchard Farmer Brown had set out a young +orchard. Peter knew all about that young orchard, for he had +visited it many times in the summer. Then there had been plenty +of sweet clover and other green things to eat, and Peter had +never been so much as tempted to sample the bark of those young +trees. But now things were very different, and it was very seldom +that Peter knew what it was to have a full stomach. He kept +thinking of that young orchard. He knew that if he were wise +he would keep away from there. But the more he thought of it +the more it seemed to him that he just must have some of that +tender young bark. So just at dusk one evening, Peter started for +the young orchard. + +Peter got there in safety and his eyes sparkled as he hopped over +to the nearest young tree. But when he reached it, Peter had a +dreadful disappointment. All around the trunk of that young +tree was wire netting. Peter couldn't get even a nibble of that +bark. He tried the next tree with no better result. Then he +hurried on from tree to tree, always with the same result. You +see Farmer Brown knew all about Peter's liking for the bark +of young fruit trees, and he had been wise enough to protect his +young orchard. + +At last Peter gave up and hopped over to the Old Orchard. As he +passed a certain big tree he was startled by a voice. "What's +the matter, Peter?" said the voice. "You don't look happy." + +Peter stopped short and stared up in the big apple-tree. Look as +he would he couldn't see anybody. Of course there wasn't a leaf +on that tree, and he could see all through it. Peter blinked and +felt foolish. He knew that had there been any one sitting on any +one of those branches he couldn't have helped seeing him. + +"Don't look so high, Peter; don't look so high," said the voice +with a chuckle. This time it sounded as if it came right out of +the trunk of the tree. Peter stared at the trunk and then +suddenly laughed right out. Just a few feet above the ground was +a good sized hole in the tree, and poking his head out of it was +a funny little fellow with big eyes and a hooked beak. + +"You certainly did fool me that time, Spooky," cried Peter. "I +ought to have recognized your voice, but I didn't." + +Spooky the Screech Owl, for that is who it was, came out of the +hole in the tree and without a sound from his wings flew over +and perched just above Peter's head. He was a little fellow, not +over eight inches high, but there was no mistaking the family to +which he belonged. In fact he looked very much like a small copy +of Hooty the Great Horned Owl, so much so that Peter felt a +little cold shiver run over him, although he had nothing in the +world to fear from Spooky. + +His head seemed to be almost as big around as his body, and he +seemed to leave no neck at all. He was dressed in bright +reddish-brown, with little streaks and bars of black. Underneath +he was whitish, with little streaks and bars of black and brown. +On each side of his head was a tuft of feathers. They looked like +ears and some people think they are ears, which is a mistake. His +eyes were round and yellow with a fierce hungry look in them. His +bill was small and almost hidden among the feathers of his face, +but it was hooked just like the bill of Hooty. As he settled +himself he turned his head around until he could look squarely +behind him, then brought it back again so quickly that to Peter +it looked as if it had gone clear around. You see Spooky's eyes +are fixed in their sockets and he cannot move them from side to +side. He has to turn his whole head in order to see to one side +or the other. + +"You haven't told me yet why you look so unhappy, Peter," said +Spooky. + +"Isn't an empty stomach enough to make any fellow unhappy?" +retorted Peter rather shortly. + +Spooky chuckled. "I've got an empty stomach myself, Peter," said +he, "but it isn't making me unhappy. I have a feeling that +somewhere there is a fat Mouse waiting for me." + +Just then Peter remembered what Jenny Wren had told him early in +the spring of how Spooky the Screech Owl lives all the year +around in a hollow tree, and curiosity made him forget for the +time being that he was hungry. "Did you live in that hole all +summer, Spooky?" he asked. + +Spooky nodded solemnly. "I've lived in that hollow summer and +winter for three years," said he. + +Peter's eyes opened very wide. "And till now I never even guessed +it," he exclaimed. "Did you raise a family there?" + +"I certainly did," replied Spooky. "Mrs. Spooky and I raised a +family of four as fine looking youngsters as you ever have seen. +They've gone out into the Great World to make their own living +now. Two were dressed just like me and two were gray." + +"What's that?" exclaimed Peter. + +"I said that two were dressed just like me and two were gray," +replied Spooky rather sharply. + +"That's funny," Peter exclaimed. + +"What's funny?" snapped Spooky rather crossly. + +"Why that all four were not dressed alike," said Peter. + +"There's nothing funny about it," retorted Spooky, and snapped +his bill sharply with a little cracking sound. "We Screech Owls +believe in variety. Some of us are gray and some of us are +reddish-brown. It is a case of where you cannot tell a person +just by the color of his clothes." + +Peter nodded as if he quite understood, although he couldn't +understand at all. "I'm ever so pleased to find you living here," +said he politely. "You see, in winter the Old Orchard is rather a +lonely place. I don't see how you get enough to eat when there +are so few birds about." + +"Birds!" snapped Spooky. "What have birds to do with it?" + +"Why, don't you live on birds?" asked Peter innocently. + +"I should say not. I guess I would starve if I depended on birds +for my daily food," retorted Spooky. "I catch a Sparrow now and +then, to be sure, but usually it is an English Sparrow, and I +consider that I am doing the Old Orchard a good turn every time I +am lucky enough to catch one of the family of Bully the English +Sparrow. But I live mostly on Mice and Shrews in winter and in +summer I eat a lot of grasshoppers and other insects. If it +wasn't for me and my relatives I guess Mice would soon overrun +the Great World. Farmer Brown ought to be glad I've come to live +in the Old Orchard and I guess he is, for Farmer Brown's boy +knows all about this house of mine and never disturbs me. Now if +you'll excuse me I think I'll fly over to Farmer Brown's young +orchard. I ought to find a fat Mouse or two trying to get some of +the bark from those young trees." + +"Huh!" exclaimed Peter. They can try all they want to, but they +won't get any; I can tell you that." + +Spooky's round yellow eyes twinkled. "It must be you have been +trying to get some of that bark yourself," said he. + +Peter didn't say anything but he looked guilty, and Spooky once +more chuckled as he spread his wings and flew away so soundlessly +that he seemed more like a drifting shadow than a bird. Then +Peter started for a certain swamp he knew of where he would be +sure to find enough bark to stay his appetite. + + + + +CHAPTER XLIII Queer Feet and a Queerer Bill. + +Peter Rabbit had gone over to the Green Forest to call on his +cousin, Jumper the Hare, who lives there altogether. He had no +difficulty in finding Jumper's tracks in the snow, and by +following these he at length came up with Jumper. The fact is, +Peter almost bumped into Jumper before he saw him, for Jumper was +wearing a coat as white as the snow itself. Squatting under a +little snow-covered hemlock-tree he looked like nothing more +than a little mound of snow. + +"Oh!" cried Peter. "How you startled me! I wish I had a winter +coat like yours. It must be a great help in avoiding your +enemies." + +"It certainly is, Cousin Peter," cried Jumper. "Nine times out +of ten all I have to do is to sit perfectly still when there +was no wind to carry my scent. I have had Reddy Fox pass within +a few feet of me and never suspect that I was near. I hope this +snow will last all winter. It is only when there isn't any snow +that I am particularly worried. Then I am not easy for a minute, +because my white coat can be seen a long distance against the +brown of the dead leaves." + +Peter chuckled. "that is just when I feel safest," he replied. +"I like the snow, but this brown-gray coat of mine certainly +does show up against it. Don't you find it pretty lonesome over +here in the Green Forest with all the birds gone, Cousin +Jumper?" + +Jumper shook his head. "Not all have gone, Peter, you know," +said he. "Strutter the Grouse and Mrs. Grouse are here, and I see +them every day. They've got snowshoes now." + +Peter blinked his eyes and looked rather perplexed. "Snowshoes!" +he exclaimed. "I don't understand what you mean." + +"Come with me," replied Jumper, "and I'll show you." + +So Jumper led the way and Peter followed close at his heels. +Presently they came to some tracks in the snow. At first +glance they reminded Peter of the queer tracks Farmer Brown's +ducks made in the mud on the edge of the Smiling Pool in summer. +"What funny tracks those are!" he exclaimed. "Who made them?" + +"Just keep on following me and you'll see," retorted Jumper. + +So they continued to follow the tracks until presently, just +ahead of them, they saw Strutter the Grouse. Peter opened his +eyes with surprise when he discovered that those queer tracks +were made by Strutter. + +"Cousin Peter wants to see your snowshoes, Strutter," said Jumper +as they came up with him. + +Strutter's bright eyes sparkled. "He's just as curious as ever, +isn't he?" said he. "Well, I don't mind showing him my +snowshoes because I think myself that they are really quite +wonderful." He held up one foot with the toes spread apart and +Peter saw that growing out from the sides of each toe were +queer little horny points set close together. They quite filled +the space between his toes. Peter recalled that when he had +seen Strutter in the summer those toes had been smooth and that +his tracks on soft ground had shown the outline of each toe +clearly. "How funny!" exclaimed Peter. + +"There's nothing funny about them," retorted Strutter. "If Old +Mother Nature hadn't given me something of this kind I +certainly would have a hard time of it when there is snow on the +ground. If my feet were just the same as in summer I would sink +right down in when the snow is soft and wouldn't be able to walk +about at all. Now, with these snowshoes I get along very nicely. +You see I sink in but very little." + +He took three or four steps and Peter saw right away how very +useful those snowshoes were. "My!" he exclaimed. "I wish Old +Mother Nature would give me snowshoes too." Strutter and Jumper +both laughed and after a second Peter laughed with them, for he +realized how impossible it would be for him to have anything like +those snowshoes of Strutter's. + +"Cousin Peter was just saying that he should think I would find +it lonesome over here in the Green Forest. He forgot that you and +Mrs. Grouse stay all winter, and he forgot that while most of the +birds who spent the summer here have left, there are others who +come down from the Far North to take their place." + +"Who, for instance?" demanded Peter. + +"Snipper the Crossbill," replied Jumper promptly. "I haven't seen +him yet this winter, but I know he is here because only this +morning I found some pine seeds on the snow under a certain +tree." + +"Huh!" Peter exclaimed. "That doesn't prove anything. Those +seeds might have just fallen, or Chatterer the Red Squirrel might +have dropped them." + +"This isn't the season for seeds to just fall, and I know by the +signs that Chatterer hasn't been about," retorted Jumper. "Let's +go over there now and see what we will see." + +Once more he led the way and Peter followed. As they drew near +that certain pine-tree, a short whistled note caused them to look +up. Busily at work on a pine cone near the top of a tree was a +bird about the size of Bully the English Sparrow. He was dressed +wholly in dull red with brownish-black wings and tail. + +"What did I tell you?" cried Jumper. "There's Snipper this very +minute, and over in that next tree are a lot of his family +and relatives. See in what a funny way they climb about among the +branches. They don't flit or hop, but just climb around. I don't +know of any other bird anywhere around here that does that." + +Just then a seed dropped and landed on the snow almost in front +of Peter's nose. Almost at once Snipper himself followed it, +picking it up and eating it with as much unconcern as if Peter +and Jumper were a mile away instead of only a foot or so. The +very first thing Peter noticed was Snipper's bill. The upper and +lower halves crossed at the tips. That bill looked very much as +if Snipper had struck something hard and twisted the tips over. + +"Have--have--you met with an accident?" he asked a bit +hesitatingly. + +Snipper looked surprised. "Are you talking to me?" he asked. +"Whatever put such an idea into your head?" + +"Your bill," replied Peter promptly. "How did it get twisted +like that?" + +Snipper laughed. "It isn't twisted," said he. "It is just the way +Old Mother Nature made it, and I really don't know what I'd do if +it were any different." + +Peter scratched one long ear, as is his way when he is puzzled. +"I don't see," said he, "how it is possible for you to pick +up food with a bill like that." + +"And I don't see how I would get my food if I didn't have a bill +like this," retorted Snipper. Then, seeing how puzzled Peter +really was, he went on to explain. "You see, I live very largely +on the seeds that grow in pine cones and the cones of other +trees. Of course I eat some other food, such as seeds and buds of +trees. But what I love best of all are the seeds that grow in the +cones of evergreen trees. If you've ever looked at one of those +cones, you will understand that those seeds are not very easy to +get at. But with this kind of a bill it is no trouble at all. I +can snip them out just as easily as birds with straight bills can +pick up seeds. You see my bill is very much like a pair of +scissors." + +"It really is very wonderful," confessed Peter. "Do you mind +telling me, Snipper, why I never have seen you here in summer?" + +"For the same reason that in summer you never see Snowflake and +Wanderer the Horned Lark and some others I might name," replied +Snipper. "Give me the Far North every time. I would stay there +the year through but that sometimes food gets scarce up there. +That is why I am down here now. If you'll excuse me, I'll go +finish my breakfast." + +Snipper flew up in the tree where the other Crossbills were at +work and Peter and Jumper watched them. + +"I suppose you know," said Jumper, "that Snipper has a cousin who +looks almost exactly like him with the exception of two white +bars on each wing. He is called the White-winged Crossbill." + +"I didn't know it," replied Peter, "but I'm glad you've told me. +I certainly shall watch out for him. I can't get over those +funny bills. No one could ever mistake it for any other bird. +Is there anyone else now from the Far North whom I haven't seen?" + + + + +CHAPTER XLIV More Folks in Red. + +Jumper the Hare didn't have time to reply to Peter Rabbit's +question when Peter asked if there was any one else besides the +Crossbills who had come down from the Far North. + +"I have," said a voice from a tree just back of them. + +It was so unexpected that it made both Peter and Jumper hop in +startled surprise. Then they turned to see who had spoken. There +sat a bird just a little smaller than Welcome Robin, who at first +glance seemed to be dressed in strawberry-red. However, a closer +look showed that there were slate-gray markings about his head, +under his wings and on his legs. His tail was brown. His wings +were brown, marked with black and white and slate. His bill was +thick and rather short. + +"Who are you?" demanded Peter very bluntly and impolitely. + +"I'm Piny the Pine Grosbeak," replied the stranger, seemingly not +at all put out by Peter's bluntness. + +"Oh," said Peter. "Are you related to Rosebreast the Grosbeak who +nested last summer in the Old Orchard?" + +"I certainly am," replied Piny. "He is my very own cousin. I've +never seen him because he never ventures up where I live and I +don't go down where he spends the winter, but all members of the +Grosbeak family are cousins." + +"Rosebreast is very lovely and I'm very fond of him," said +Peter. "We are very good friends." + +"Then I know we are going to be good friends," replied Piny. As +he said this he turned and Peter noticed that his tail was +distinctly forked instead of being square across like that of +Welcome Robin. Piny whistled, and almost at once he was joined by +another bird who in shape was just like him, but who was dressed +in slaty-gray and olive-yellow, instead of the bright red that he +himself wore. Piny introduced the newcomer as Mrs. Grosbeak. + +"Lovely weather, isn't it?" said she. "I love the snow. I +wouldn't feel at home with no snow about. Why, last spring I +even built my nest before the snow was gone in the Far North. +We certainly hated to leave up there, but food was getting so +scarce that we had to. We have just arrived. Can you tell me if +there are any cedar-trees or ash-trees or sumacs near here?" + +Peter hastened to tell her just where she would find these trees +and then rather timidly asked why she wanted to find them. + +"Because they hold their berries all winter," replied Mrs. +Grosbeak promptly, "and those berries make very good eating. +I rather thought there must be some around here. If there are +enough of them we certainly shall stay a while." + +"I hope you will," replied Peter. "I want to get better +acquainted with you. You know, if it were not for you folks who +come down from the Far North the Green Forest would be rather a +lonely place in winter. There are times when I like to be alone, +but I like to feel that there is someone I can call on when I +feel lonesome. Did you and Piny come down alone?" + +"No, indeed," replied Mrs. Grosbeak. "There is a flock of our +relatives not far away. We came down with the Crossbills. A11 +together we made quite a party." + +Peter and Jumper stayed a while to gossip with the Grosbeaks. +Then Peter bethought him that it was high time for him to return +to the dear Old Briar-patch, and bidding his new friends good-by, +he started off through the Green Forest, lipperty-lipperty-lip. +When he reached the edge of the Green Forest he decided to run +over to the weedy field to see if the Snowflakes and the Tree +Sparrows and the Horned Larks were there. They were, but almost +at once Peter discovered that they had company. Twittering +cheerfully as he busily picked seeds out of the top of a weed +which stood above the snow, was a bird very little bigger than +Chicoree the Goldfinch. But when Peter looked at him he just +had to rub his eyes. + +"Gracious goodness!" he muttered, "it must be something is +wrong with my eyes so that I am seeing red. I've already seen two +birds dressed in red and now there's another. It certainly must +be my eyes. There's Dotty the Tree Sparrow over there; I hear his +voice. I wonder if he will look red." + +Peter hopped near enough to get a good look at Dotty and found +him dressed just as he should be. That relieved Peter's mind. His +eyes were quite as they should be. Then he returned to look at +the happy little stranger still busily picking seeds from that +weed-top. + +The top of his head was bright red. There was no doubt about it. +His back was toward Peter at the time and but for that bright red +cap Peter certainly would have taken him for one of his friends +among the Sparrow family. You see his back was grayish-brown. +Peter could think of several Sparrows with backs very much like +it. But when he looked closely he saw that just above his tail +this little stranger wore a pinkish patch, and that was something +no Sparrow of Peter's acquaintance possesses. + +Then the lively little stranger turned to face Peter and a pair +of bright eyes twinkled mischievously. "Well," said he, "how do +you like my appearance? Anything wrong with me? I was taught that +it is very impolite to stare at any one. I guess your mother +forgot to teach you manners." + +Peter paid no attention to what was said but continued to stare. +"My, how pretty you are!" he exclaimed. + +The little stranger WAS pretty. His breast was PINK. Below this +he was white. The middle of his throat was black and his sides +were streaked with reddish-brown. He looked pleased at Peter's +exclamation. + +"I'm glad you think I'm pretty," said he. "I like pink myself. I +like it very much indeed. I suppose you've already seen my +friends, Snipper the Crossbill and Piny the Grosbeak." + +Peter promptly bobbed his head. "I've just come from making their +acquaintance," said he. "By the way you speak, I presume you also +are from the Far North. I am just beginning to learn that there +are more folks who make their homes in the Far North than I +had dreamed of. If you please, I don't believe I know you at +all." + +"I'm Redpoll," was the prompt response. "I am called that because +of my red cap. Yes, indeed, I make my home in the Far North. +There is no place like it. You really ought to run up there and +get acquainted with the folks who make their homes there and love +it." + +Redpoll laughed at his own joke, but Peter didn't see the joke at +all. "Is it so very far?" he asked innocently; then added, "I'd +dearly love to go." + +Redpoll laughed harder than ever. "Yes," said he, "it is. I am +afraid you would be a very old and very gray Rabbit by the time +you got there. I guess the next thing is for you to make the +acquaintance of some of us who get down here once in awhile." + +Redpoll called softly and almost at once was joined by another +red-capped bird but without the pink breast, and with sides more +heavily streaked. "This is Mrs. Redpoll," announced her lively +little mate. Then he turned to her and added, "I've just been +telling Peter Rabbit that as long as he cannot visit our +beautiful Far North he must become acquainted with those of us +who come down here in the winter. I'm sure he'll find us very +friendly folks." + +"I'm sure I shall," said Peter. "If you please, do you live +altogether on these weed seeds?" + +Redpoll laughed his usual happy laugh. "Hardly, Peter," replied +he. "We like the seeds of the birches and the alders, and we eat +the seeds of the evergreen trees when we get them. Sometimes we +find them in cones Snipper the Crossbill has opened but hasn't +picked all the seeds out of. Sometimes he drops some for us. Oh, +we always manage to get plenty to eat. There are some of our +relatives over there and we must join them. We'll see you again, +Peter." + +Peter said he hoped they would and then watched them fly over to +join their friends. Suddenly, as if a signal had been given, all +spread their wings at the same instant and flew up in a +birch-tree not far away. All seemed to take wing at precisely the +same instant. Up in the birch-tree they sat for a minute or so and +then, just as if another signal had been given, all began to pick +out the tiny seeds from the birch tassels. No one bird seemed to +be first. It was quite like a drill, or as if each had thought of +the same thing at the same instant. Peter chuckled over it all +the way home. And somehow he felt better for having made the +acquaintance of the Redpolls. It was the feeling that everybody +so fortunate as to meet them on a gold winter's day is sure to +have. + + + +CHAPTER XLV Peter Sees Two Terrible Feathered Hunters. + +While it is true that Peter Rabbit likes winter, it is also true +that life is anything but easy for him that season. In the +first place he has to travel about a great deal to get sufficient +food, and that means that he must run more risks. There isn't a +minute of day or night that he is outside of the dear Old +Briar-patch when he can afford not to watch and listen for +danger. You see, at this season of the year, Reddy Fox often finds +it difficult to get a good meal. He is hungry most of the time, +and he is forever hunting for Peter Rabbit. With snow on the +ground and no leaves on the bushes and young trees, it is not +easy for Peter to hide. So, as he travels about, the thought of +Reddy Fox is always in his mind. + +But there are others whom Peter fears even more, and these wear +feathers instead of fur coats. One of these is Terror the +Goshawk. Peter is not alone in his fear of Terror. There is not +one among his feathered friends who will not shiver at the +mention of Terror's name. Peter will not soon forget the day he +discovered that Terror had come down from the Far North, and was +likely to stay for the rest of the winter. Peter went hungry all +the rest of that day. + +You see it was this way: Peter had gone over to the Green Forest +very early that morning in the hope of getting breakfast in a +certain swamp. He was hopping along, lipperty-lipperty-lip, with +his thoughts chiefly on that breakfast he hoped to get, but at +the same time with ears and eyes alert for possible danger, when +a strange feeling swept over him. It was a feeling that great +danger was very near, though he saw nothing and heard nothing to +indicate it. It was just a feeling, that was all. + +Now Peter has learned that the wise thing to do when one has such +a feeling as that is to seek safety first and investigate +afterwards. At the instant he felt that strange feeling of fear +he was passing a certain big, hollow log. Without really knowing +why he did it, because, you know, he didn't stop to do any +thinking, he dived into that hollow log, and even as he did so +there was the sharp swish of great wings. Terror the Goshawk had +missed catching Peter by the fraction of a second. + +With his heart thumping as if it were trying to pound its way +through his ribs, Peter peeped out of that hollow log. Terror had +alighted on a tall stump only a few feet away. To Peter in his +fright he seemed the biggest bird he ever had seen. Of course he +wasn't. Actually he was very near the same size as Redtail the +Hawk, whom Peter knew well. He was handsome. There was no denying +the fact that he was handsome. + +His back was bluish. His head seemed almost black. Over and +behind each eye was a white line. Underneath he was beautifully +marked with wavy bars of gray and white. On his tail were four +dark bands. Yes, he was handsome. But Peter had no thought for +his beauty. He could see nothing but the fierceness of the eyes +that were fixed on the entrance to that hollow log. Peter +shivered as if with a cold chill. He knew that in Terror was no +pity or gentleness. + +"I hope," thought Peter, "that Mr. and Mrs. Grouse are nowhere +about." You see he knew that there is no one that Terror would +rather catch than a member of the Grouse family. + +Terror did not sit on that stump long. He knew that Peter was +not likely to come out in a hurry. Presently he flew away, and +Peter suspected from the direction in which he was headed that +Terror was going over to visit Farmer Brown's henyard. Of all the +members of the Hawk family there is none more bold than Terror +the Goshawk. He would not hesitate to seize a hen from almost +beneath Farmer Brown's nose. He is well named, for the mere +suspicion that he is anywhere about strikes terror to the heart +of all the furred and feathered folks. He is so swift of wing +that few can escape him, and he has no pity, but kills for the +mere love of killing. In this respect he is like Shadow the +Weasel. To kill for food is forgiven by the little people of the +Green Forest and the Green Meadows, but to kill needlessly is +unpardonable. This is why Terror the Goshawk is universally hated +and has not a single friend. + +All that day Peter remained hidden in that hollow log. He did not +dare put foot outside until the Black Shadows began to creep +through the Green Forest. Then he knew that there was nothing +more to fear from Terror the Goshawk, for he hunts only by day. +Once more Peter's thoughts were chiefly of his stomach, for it +was very, very empty. + +But it was not intended that Peter should fill his stomach at +once. He had gone but a little way when from just ahead of +him the silence of the early evening was broken by a terrifying +sound--"Whooo-hoo-hoo, whooo-hoo!" It was so sudden and there was +in it such a note of fierceness that Peter had all he could do to +keep from jumping and running for dear life. But he knew that +voice and he knew, too, that safety lay in keeping perfectly +still. So with his heart thumping madly, as when he had escaped +from Terror that morning, Peter sat as still as if he could not +move. + +It was the hunting call of Hooty the Great Horned Owl, and it +had been intended to frighten some one into jumping and running, +or at least into moving ever so little. Peter knew all about that +trick of Hooty's. He knew that in all the Green Forest there are +no ears so wonderful as those of Hooty the Owl, and that the +instant he had uttered that fierce hunting call he had strained +those wonderful ears to catch the faintest sound which some +startled little sleeper of the night might make. The rustle of a +leaf would be enough to bring Hooty to the spot on his great +silent wings, and then his fierce yellow eyes, which are made for +seeing in the dusk, would find the victim. + +So Peter sat still, fearful that the very thumping of his heart +might reach those wonderful ears. Again that terrible hunting cry +rang out, and again Peter had all he could do to keep from +jumping. But he didn't jump, and a few minutes later, as he sat +staring at a certain tall, dead stub of a tree, wondering just +where Hooty was, the top of that stub seemed to break off, and a +great, broad-winged bird flew away soundlessly like a drifting +shadow. It was Hooty himself. Sitting perfectly straight on the +top of that tall, dead stub he had seemed a part of it. Peter +waited some time before he ventured to move. Finally he heard +Hooty's hunting call in a distant part of the Green Forest, and +knew that it was safe for him to once more think of his empty +stomach. + +Later in the winter while the snow still lay in the Green Forest, +and the ice still bound the Laughing Brook, Peter made a +surprising discovery. He was over in a certain lonely part of +the Green Forest when he happened to remember that near there was +an old nest which had once belonged to Redtail the Hawk. Out of +idle curiosity Peter ran over for a look at that old nest. +Imagine how surprised he was when just as he came within sight of +it, he saw a great bird just settling down on it. Peter's heart +jumped right up in his throat. At least that is the way it +seemed, for he recognized Mrs. Hooty. + +Of course Peter stopped right where he was and took the greatest +care not to move or make a sound. Presently Hooty himself +appeared and perched in a tree near at hand. Peter has seen Hooty +many times before, but always as a great, drifting shadow in the +moonlight. Now he could see him clearly. As he sat bolt upright +he seemed to be of the same height as Terror the Goshawk, but +with a very much bigger body. If Peter had but known it, his +appearance of great size was largely due to the fluffy feathers +in which Hooty was clothed. Like his small cousin, Spooky the +Screech Owl, Hooty seemed to have no neck at all. He looked as if +his great head was set directly on his shoulders. From each side +of his head two great tufts of feathers stood out like ears or +horns. His bill was sharply hooked. He was dressed wholly in +reddish-brown with little buff and black markings, and on his +throat was a white patch. His legs were feathered, and so were +his feet clear to the great claws + +But it was on the great, round, fierce, yellow eyes that Peter +kept his own eyes. He had always thought of Hooty as being able +to see only in the dusk of evening or on moonlight nights, but +somehow he had a feeling that even now in broad daylight Hooty +could see perfectly well, and he was quite right. + +For a long time Peter sat there without moving. He dared not do +anything else. After he had recovered from his first fright he +began to wonder what Hooty and Mrs. Hooty were doing at that old +nest. His curiosity was aroused. He felt that he simply must find +out. By and by Hooty flew away very carefully, so as not to +attract the attention of Mrs. Hooty. Peter stole back the way he +had come. + +When he was far enough away to feel reasonably safe, he +scampered as fast as ever he could. He wanted to get away from +that place, and he wanted to find some one of whom he could ask +questions. + +Presently he met his cousin, Jumper the Hare, and at once in a +most excited manner told him all he had seen. + +Jumper listened until Peter was through. "If you'll take my +advice," said he, "you'll keep away from that part of the Green +Forest, Cousin Peter. From what you tell me it is quite clear to +me that the Hooties have begun nesting." + +"Nesting!" exclaimed Peter. "Nesting! Why, gentle Mistress Spring +will not get here for a month yet!" + +"I said NESTING," retorted Jumper, speaking rather crossly, for +you see he did not like to have his word doubted. "Hooty the +Great Horned Owl doesn't wait for Mistress Spring. He and Mrs. +Hooty believe in getting household cares out of the way early. +Along about this time of year they hunt up an old nest of Redtail +the Hawk or Blacky the Crow or Chatterer the Red Squirrel, for +they do not take the trouble to build a nest themselves. Then +Mrs. Hooty lays her eggs while there is still snow and ice. Why +their youngsters don't catch their death from cold when they +hatch out is more than I can say. But they don't. I'm sorry to +hear that the Hooties have a nest here this year. It means a bad +time for a lot of little folks in feathers and fur. I certainly +shall keep away in from that part of the Green Forest, and I advise +you to." + +Peter said that he certainly should, and then started on for the +dear Old Briar-patch to think things over. The discovery that +already the nesting season of a new year had begun turned Peter's +thoughts towards the coming of sweet Mistress Spring and the +return of his many feathered friends who had left for the far-away +South so long before. A great longing to hear the voices of Welcome +Robin and Winsome Bluebird and Little Friend the Song Sparrow swept +over him, and a still greater longing for a bit of friendly gossip +with Jenny Wren. In the past year he had learned much about his +feathered neighbors, but there were still many things he wanted +to know, things which only Jenny Wren could tell him. He was only +just beginning to find out that no one knows all there is to know, +especially about the birds. And no one ever will. + + + + + +The End of this Project Gutenberg Etext of The Burgess Bird Book +for Children, by Thornton W. Burgess. + diff --git a/old/bbbfc10.zip b/old/bbbfc10.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..dd218b7 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/bbbfc10.zip |