Part 24 (2/2)

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 be 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 x.x.xVI. 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 s.h.i.+ning 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.

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