Part 16 (1/2)

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 s.n.a.t.c.hes 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 Suns.h.i.+ne!” 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 Suns.h.i.+ne flitting about from bush to bush.

”Oh, Suns.h.i.+ne!” 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. Suns.h.i.+ne are going to make your home somewhere near here where I can see you every day.”

”h.e.l.lo, Peter! I am just as glad to see you as you are to see me,” cried Suns.h.i.+ne 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 Suns.h.i.+ne. ”She made us a lot of trouble last year. But we fooled her.”

”How did you fool her?” asked Peter.

Suns.h.i.+ne 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. Suns.h.i.+ne 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.”