Part 16 (2/2)

Suns.h.i.+ne 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 Suns.h.i.+ne. ”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.

Suns.h.i.+ne nodded. ”Yes, sir,” said he, ”and it was a mighty fine nest, if I do say it. If there's anything Mrs. Suns.h.i.+ne 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 gra.s.ses 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 Suns.h.i.+ne 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 suns.h.i.+ne 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. Suns.h.i.+ne. She was not such a bright yellow as was Suns.h.i.+ne, 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 Suns.h.i.+ne, 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 Suns.h.i.+ne 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 pa.s.sed 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 Woodp.e.c.k.e.rs, Nuthatches, and Tommy t.i.t the Chickadee.”

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