The Burgess Bird Book for Children

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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.

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