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 HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN & CO. 
 BOSTON AND NEW YORK 
 
The Curious Book of Birds 
 
Mr. Stork and Miss Heron (page 
 
The Curious Book 
 of Birds 
 
 By Abbie Farwell Brown 
 
 With Illustrations 
 
 By E. Boyd Smith 
 
 BOSTON AND NEW YORK 
 HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN AND COMPANY 
 
 re&, Cambridge 
 1903 
 
COPYRIGHT 1903 BY ABBIE FARWELL BROWN 
 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED 
 
 Published October, rqoj. 
 
THERE #r^ ;###j ^00/fo written nowadays which 
 will tell you about birds as folk of the twentieth 
 century see them. They describe carefully the singer s 
 house, his habits, the number of his little wife s eggs, 
 and the color of every tiny feather on her pretty wings. 
 But these books tell you nothing at all about bird- 
 history; about what birds have meant to all the gen- 
 erations of men, women, and children since the world 
 began. Tou would think, to read the words of the 
 bird-book men, that they were the very first folk to see 
 any bird, and that what they think they have seen is 
 the only matter worth the knowing. 
 
 Now the interesting facts about birds we have 
 always with us. We can find them out for ourselves, 
 which is a very pleasant thing to do, or we can take 
 the word of others, of which there is no lack. But it 
 is the quaint fancies about birds which are in dan- 
 ger of being lost. The long-time fancies which the 
 worlds children in all lands have been taught are 
 quite as important as the every-day facts. They show 
 what the little feathered brothers have been to the 
 children of men ; how we have come to like some and 
 
 M346662 
 
to dislike others as we do ; why the foets have called 
 them by certain nicknames which we ought to know ; 
 and why a great many strange things are so, in the 
 minds of childlike people. 
 
 Facts are not what one looks for in a Curious 
 Book. Tet it may be that some facts have crept in 
 among the ancient fancies of this volume, just as book- 
 worms will crawl into the nicest books ; but they do 
 not belong there^ and it is for these that the Book 
 apologizes to the children. It has no apology to offer 
 those grown folks who insist that facts , never fancies , 
 are what children need. 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 / 
 
 PAGE 
 
 THE DISOBEDIENT WOODPECKER . . i 
 
 (French) 
 
 MOTHER MAGPIE'S KINDERGARTEN . 6 
 
 (Isle of Wight) 
 
 THE GORGEOUS GOLDFINCH . . 14 
 
 (Roumanian) 
 
 KING OF THE BIRDS . . . . 18 
 
 (Gascon) 
 
 HALCYONE ...... 27 
 
 (Greek) 
 
 THE FORGETFUL KINGFISHER 33 
 
 (German) 
 
 THE WREN WHO BROUGHT FIRE . . 39 
 
 (French) 
 
 How THE BLUEBIRD CROSSED ... 45 
 (Samoan) 
 
 THE PEACOCK'S COUSIN . . . 49 
 (Arabic, Malay) 
 
 THE MASQUERADING CROW . . 59 
 (Russian) 
 
 vii 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 KING SOLOMON AND THE BIRDS . . 69 
 
 (Arabic) 
 
 THE Pious ROBIN . . . .. 81 
 
 (Breton, Basque, Greek) 
 
 THE ROBIN WHO WAS AN INDIAN , , 87 
 
 ( Ojibway) 
 
 THE INQUISITIVE WOMAN . . . 94 
 (Roumanian) 
 
 WHY THE NIGHTINGALE WAKES . . .98 
 (French) 
 
 MRS. PARTRIDGE'S BABIES . . . IQC 
 (Greek) 
 
 THE EARLY GIRL . . .. .109 
 (Roumanian) 
 
 How THE BLACKBIRD SPOILED HIS COAT . 114 
 (French) 
 
 THE BLACKBIRD AND THE Fox . . .124 
 (French) 
 
 THE DOVE WHO SPOKE TRUTH . / 127 
 (tTM) 
 
 THE FOWLS ON PILGRIMAGE . . 
 (Greek) 
 
 THE GROUND-PIGEON . \ . . 138 
 (Malay) 
 
 SISTER HEN AND THE CROCODILE . . 145 
 (Congo Negro) 
 
 viii 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 THE THRUSH AND THE CUCKOO . . 153 
 (Roumanian, German) 
 
 THE OWL AND THE MOON ... . . 157 
 
 (Malay) 
 
 THE TUFTED CAP . . . . . 164 
 (Ainu, Japanese Islands) 
 
 THE GOOD HUNTER . . . . 168 
 
 (Iroquois) 
 
 THE COURTSHIP OF MR. STORK AND Miss 
 
 HERON ...... 176 
 
 (Russian) 
 
 THE PHOZNIX . . . . . .184 
 
 (Egyptian) 
 
 Seven of these tales appeared originally in The Church- 
 man and two in The Congregationalist. They are reprinted 
 by the courteous permission of the publishers of those 
 magazines. 
 
 IX 
 
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 PAGE 
 
 MR. STORK AND Miss HERON (page 178) 
 
 Frontispiece 
 
 " NEXT YOU MUST LAY A FEATHER " .10 
 
 SUCH A GORGEOUS COAT ! . . . 16 
 " BLESS ME ! " HE EXCLAIMED, " WHOM HAVE 
 
 WE HERE ? " . . . . . 64 
 
 HERE ARE SOME NICE FAT WIGGLY WORMS 106 
 
 HE MANAGED TO FLUTTER OUT OF REACH 126 
 
 " O BROTHER, DON'T ! " . . . .148 
 PUTRI BALAN BEGAN TO LAUGH 160 
 
The Curious Book of Birds 
 
" Not you alone, proud truths of the world, 
 Not you alone, ye facts of modern science, 
 But myths and fables of eld, Asia's, Africa's fables." 
 
 Whitman. 
 
The Curious Book 
 of Birds 
 ,/'" * 
 
 THE DISOBEDIENT WOODPECKER 
 
 ONG, long ago, at the beginning of 
 things, they say that the Lord made the 
 world smooth and round like an apple. 
 There were no hills nor mountains : 
 nor were there any hollows or valleys to hold the 
 seas and rivers, fountains and pools, which the 
 world of men would need. It must, indeed, have 
 been a stupid and ugly earth in those days, with 
 no chance for swimming or sailing, rowing or 
 fishing. But as yet there was no one to think any- 
 thing about it, no one who would long to swim, 
 sail, row, and fish. For this was long before men 
 were created. 
 
 The Lord looked about Him at the flocks of 
 
THE CURIOUS BOOK OF BIRDS 
 
 newly made birds, who were preening their wings 
 and wondering at their own bright feathers, and 
 said to Himself, 
 
 " I will make these pretty creatures useful, from 
 the very beginning, so that in after time men shall 
 love them dearly. Come, my birds," He cried, 
 " come hither to me, and with the beaks which I 
 have given you hollow me out here, and here, 
 and here, basins for the lakes and pools which I 
 intend to fill with water for men and for you, 
 their friends. Come, little brothers, busy your- 
 selves as you would wish to be happy hereafter." 
 
 Then there was a twittering and fluttering as 
 the good birds set to work with a will, singing 
 happily over the work which their dear Lord had 
 given them to do. They pecked and they pecked 
 with their sharp little bills; they scratched and 
 they scratched with their sharp little claws, till in 
 the proper places they had hollowed out great 
 basins and valleys and long river beds, and little 
 holes in the ground. 
 
 Then the Lord sent great rains upon the earth 
 until the hollows which the birds had made were 
 filled with water, and so became rivers and lakes, 
 little brooks and fountains, just as we see them to- 
 day. Now it was a beautiful, beautiful world, and 
 the good birds sang happily and rejoiced in the 
 
THE DISOBEDIENT WOODPECKER 
 
 work which they had helped, and in the sparkling 
 water which was sweet to their taste. 
 
 All were happy except one. The Woodpecker 
 had taken no part with the other busy birds. She 
 was a lazy, disobedient creature, and when she 
 heard the Lord's commands she had only said, 
 " Tut tut ! " and sat still on the branch where she 
 had perched, preening her pretty feathers and ad- 
 miring her silver stockings. " You can toil if you 
 want to," she said to the other birds who wondered 
 at her, " but I shall do no such dirty work. My 
 clothes are too fine." 
 
 Now when the world was quite finished and 
 the beautiful water sparkled and glinted here and 
 there, cool and refreshing, the Lord called the birds 
 to Him and thanked them for their help, praising 
 them for their industry and zeal. But to the Wood- 
 pecker He said, 
 
 " As for you, O Woodpecker, I observe that 
 your feathers are unruffled by work and that there 
 is no spot of soil upon your beak and claws. How 
 did you manage to keep so neat *? " 
 
 The Woodpecker looked sulky and stood upon 
 one leg. 
 
 " It is a good thing to be neat," said the Lord, 
 " but not if it comes from shirking a duty. It is 
 good to be dainty, but not from laziness. Have 
 
 3 
 
THE CURIOUS BOOK OF BIRDS 
 
 you not worked with your brothers as I com- 
 manded you ? " 
 
 " It was such very dirty work," piped the Wood- 
 pecker crossly ; " I was afraid of spoiling my 
 pretty bright coat and my silver shining hose." 
 
 " Oh, vain and lazy bird ! " said the Lord sadly. 
 " Have you nothing to do but show off your fine 
 clothes and give yourself airs ? You are no more 
 beautiful than many of your brothers, yet they 
 all obeyed me willingly. Look at the snow-white 
 Dove, and the gorgeous Bird of Paradise, and the 
 pretty Grosbeak. They have worked nobly, yet 
 their plumage is not injured. I fear that you 
 must be punished for your disobedience, little 
 Woodpecker. Henceforth you shall wear stock- 
 ings of sooty black instead of the shining silver 
 ones of which you are so proud. You who were 
 too fine to dig in the earth shall ever be pecking 
 at dusty wood. And as you declined to help in 
 building the water-basins of the world, so you shall 
 never sip from them when you are thirsty. Never 
 shall you thrust beak into lake or river, little rip- 
 pling brook or cool, sweet fountain. Raindrops 
 falling scantily from the leaves shall be your 
 drink, and your voice shall be heard only when 
 other creatures are hiding themselves from the 
 approaching storm." 
 
 4 
 
THE DISOBEDIENT WOODPECKER 
 
 It was a sad punishment for the Woodpecker, 
 but she certainly deserved it. Ever since that time, 
 whenever we hear a little tap-tapping in the tree 
 city, we know that it is the poor Woodpecker dig- 
 ging at the dusty wood, as the Lord said she 
 should do. And when we spy her, a dusty little 
 body with black stockings, clinging upright to 
 the tree trunk, we see that she is creeping, climb- 
 ing, looking up eagerly toward the sky, longing 
 for the rain to fall into her thirsty beak. She is 
 always hoping for the storm to come, and plain- 
 tively pipes, " Plui-plm ! Rain, O Rain ! " until 
 the drops begin to patter on the leaves. 
 
MOTHER MAGPIE'S KINDERGARTEN 
 
 ID you ever notice how different are 
 the nests which the birds build in 
 springtime, in tree or bush or sandy 
 bank or hidden in the grass *? Some 
 are wonderfully wrought, pretty little homes for 
 birdikins. But others are clumsy, and carelessly 
 fastened to the bough, most unsafe cradles for the 
 feathered baby on the treetop. Sometimes after a 
 heavy wind you find on the ground under the nest 
 poor little broken eggs which rolled out and lost 
 their chance of turning into birds with safe, safe 
 wings of their own. Now such sad things as this 
 happen because in their youth the lazy father and 
 mother birds did not learn their lesson when Mother 
 Magpie had her class in nest-making. The clum- 
 siest nest of all is that which the Wood-Pigeon tries 
 to build. Indeed, it is not a nest at all, only the 
 beginning of one. And there is an old story about 
 this, which I shall tell you. 
 
 In the early springtime of the world, when birds 
 were first made, none of them except Mother 
 Magpie knew how to build a nest. In that 
 
 6 
 
MOTHER MAGPIE'S KINDERGARTEN 
 
 lovely garden where they lived the birds went flut- 
 tering about trying their new wings, so interested 
 in this wonderful game of flying that they forgot 
 all about preparing a home for the baby birds who 
 were to come. When the time came to lay their 
 eggs the parents knew not what to do. There 
 was no place safe from the four-legged creatures 
 who cannot fly, and they began to twitter help- 
 lessly : " Oh, how I wish 1 had a nice warm nest 
 for my eggs ! " " Oh, what shall we do for a home *? " 
 " Dear me ! I don't know anything about house- 
 keeping." And the poor silly things ruffled up 
 their feathers and looked miserable as only a little 
 bird can look when it is unhappy. 
 
 All except Mother Magpie ! She was not the 
 best oh, no! but she was the cleverest and wis- 
 est of all the birds ; it seemed as if she knew every- 
 thing that a bird could know. Already she had 
 found out a way, and was busily building a famous 
 nest for herself. She was indeed a clever bird ! 
 She gathered turf and sticks, and with clay bound 
 them firmly together in a stout elm tree. About 
 her house she built a fence of thorns to keep away 
 the burglar birds who had already begun mischief 
 among their peaceful neighbors. Thus she had a 
 snug and cosy dwelling finished before the others 
 even suspected what she was doing. She popped 
 
 7 
 
THE CURIOUS BOOK OF BIRDS 
 
 into her new house and sat there comfortably, peer- 
 ing out through the window-slits with her sharp 
 little eyes. And she saw the other birds hopping 
 about and twittering helplessly. 
 
 "What silly birds they are!" she croaked. 
 " Ha, ha ! What would they not give for a nest 
 like mine ! " 
 
 But presently a sharp-eyed Sparrow spied 
 Mother Magpie sitting in her nest. 
 
 " Oho ! Look there ! " he cried. " Mother Mag- 
 pie has found a way. Let us ask her to teach us." 
 
 Then all the other birds chirped eagerly, "Yes, 
 yes ! Let us ask her to teach us ! " 
 
 So, in a great company, they came fluttering, 
 hopping, twittering up to the elm tree where 
 Mother Magpie nestled comfortably in her new 
 house. 
 
 "O wise Mother Magpie, dear Mother Magpie," 
 they cried, " teach us how to build our nests like 
 yours, for it is growing night, and we are tired 
 and sleepy." 
 
 The Magpie said she would teach them if they 
 would be a patient, diligent, obedient class of little 
 birds. And they all promised that they would. 
 
 She made them perch about her in a great cir- 
 cle, some on the lower branches of the trees, some 
 on the bushes, and some on the ground among the 
 
 8 
 
MOTHER MAGPIE'S KINDERGARTEN 
 
 grass and flowers. And where each bird perched, 
 there it was to build its nest. Then Mother Mag- 
 pie found clay and bits of twigs and moss and 
 grass everything a bird could need to build a 
 nest ; and there is scarcely anything you can think 
 of which some bird would not find very useful. 
 When these things were all piled up before her 
 she told every bird to do just as she did. It was 
 like a great big kindergarten of birds playing at 
 a new building game, with Mother Magpie for 
 the teacher. 
 
 She began to show them how to weave the bits of 
 things together into nests, as they should be made. 
 And some of the birds, who were attentive and 
 careful, soon saw how it was done, and started nice 
 homes for themselves. You have seen what won- 
 derful swinging baskets the Oriole makes for his 
 baby-cradle ? Well, it was the Magpie who taught 
 him how, and he was the prize pupil, to be sure. 
 But some of the birds were not like him, nor like 
 the patient little Wren. Some of them were lazy 
 and stupid and envious of Mother Magpie's cosy 
 nest, which was already finished, while theirs was 
 yet to do. 
 
 As Mother Magpie worked, showing them how, 
 it seemed so very simple that they were ashamed 
 not to have discovered it for themselves. So, as she 
 
 9 
 
THE CURIOUS BOOK OF BIRDS 
 
 went on bit by bit, the silly things pretended that 
 they had known all about it from the first which 
 was very unpleasant for their teacher. 
 
 Mother Magpie took two sticks in her beak and 
 began like this : " First of all, my friends, you must 
 lay two sticks crosswise for a foundation, thus," 
 and she placed them carefully on the branch be- 
 fore her. 
 
 44 Oh yes, oh yes ! " croaked old Daddy Crow, in- 
 terrupting her rudely. " I thought that was the way 
 to begin." 
 
 Mother Magpie snapped her eyes at him and 
 went on, " Next you must lay a feather on a bit 
 of moss, to start the walls." 
 
 44 Certainly, of course," screamed the Jackdaw. 
 44 1 knew that came next. That is what I told the 
 Parrot but a moment since." 
 
 Mother Magpie looked at him impatiently, but 
 she did not say anything. " Then, my friends, you 
 must place on your foundation moss, hair, feath- 
 ers, sticks, and grass whatever you choose for 
 your house. You must place them like this." 
 
 " Yes, yes," cried the Starling, " sticks and grass, 
 every one knows how to do that ! Of course, of 
 course ! Tell us something new." 
 
 Now Mother Magpie was very angry, but she 
 kept on with her lesson in spite of these rude and 
 
 10 
 
Next you must lay a feather " 
 
MOTHER MAGPIE'S KINDERGARTEN 
 
 silly interruptions. She turned toward the Wood- 
 Pigeon, who was a rattle-pated young thing, and 
 who was not having any success with the sticks 
 which she was trying to place. 
 
 " Here, Wood-Pigeon," said Mother Magpie, 
 " you must place those sticks through and across, 
 criss-cross, criss-cross, so" 
 
 "Criss-cross, criss-cross, so," interrupted the 
 Wood-Pigeon. " I know. That will do-o-o, that 
 will do-o-o ! " 
 
 Mother Magpie hopped up and down on one 
 leg, so angry she could hardly croak. 
 
 "You silly Pigeon," she sputtered, "not so. 
 You are spoiling your nest. Place the sticks 
 so ! " 
 
 " I know, I know ! That will do-o-o, that will 
 do-o-o ! " cooed the Wood-Pigeon obstinately in 
 her soft, foolish little voice, without paying the 
 least attention to Mother Magpie's directions. 
 
 " We all know that anything more *? " chirped 
 the chorus of birds, trying to conceal how anxious 
 they were to know what came next, for the nests 
 were only half finished. 
 
 But Mother Magpie was thoroughly disgusted, 
 and refused to go on with the lesson which had 
 been so rudely interrupted by her pupils. 
 
 " You are all so wise, friends," she said, " that 
 ii 
 
THE CURIOUS BOOK OF BIRDS 
 
 surely you do not need any help from me. You 
 say you know all about it, then go on and finish 
 your nests by yourselves. Much luck may you 
 have ! " And away she flew to her own cosy nest 
 in the elm tree, where she was soon fast asleep, 
 forgetting all about the matter. 
 
 But oh ! What a pickle the other birds were 
 in ! The lesson was but half finished, and most of 
 them had not the slightest idea what to do next. 
 That is why to this day many of the birds have 
 never learned to build a perfect nest. Some do 
 better than others, but none build like Mother 
 Magpie. 
 
 But the Wood-Pigeon was in the worst case of 
 them all. For she had only the foundation laid 
 criss-cross as the Magpie had shown her. And so, 
 if you find in the woods the most shiftless, silly 
 kind of nest that you can imagine just a plat- 
 form of sticks laid flat across a branch, with no 
 railing to keep the eggs from rolling out, no roof 
 to keep the rain from soaking in when you see 
 that foolishness, you will know that it is the nest 
 of little Mistress Wood-Pigeon, who was too stu- 
 pid to learn the lesson which Mother Magpie was 
 ready to teach. 
 
 And the queerest part of all is that the birds 
 blamed the Magpie for the whole matter, and have 
 
 12 
 
MOTHER MAGPIE'S KINDERGARTEN 
 
 never liked her since. But, as you may have 
 found out for yourselves, that is often the fate 
 of wise folk who make discoveries or who do 
 things better than others. 
 
THE GORGEOUS GOLDFINCH 
 
 HE Goldfinch who lives in Europe is 
 one of the gaudiest of the little feath- 
 ered brothers. He is a very Joseph 
 of birds in his coat of many colors, 
 and folk often wonder how he came to have 
 feathers so much more gorgeous than his kindred. 
 But after you have read this tale you will wonder 
 no longer. 
 
 You must know that when the Father first made 
 all the birds they were dressed alike in plumage 
 of sober gray. But this dull uniform pleased Him 
 no more than it did the birds themselves, who 
 begged that they might wear each the particular 
 style which was most becoming, and by which 
 they could be recognized afar. 
 
 So the Father called the birds to Him, one by 
 one, as they stood in line, and dipping His brush 
 in the rainbow color-box painted each appropri- 
 ately in the colors which it wears to-day. (Except, 
 indeed, that some had later adventures which 
 altered their original hues, as you shall hear in 
 due season.) 
 
THE GORGEOUS GOLDFINCH 
 
 But the Goldfinch did not come with the other 
 birds. That tardy little fellow was busy elsewhere 
 on his own affairs and heeded not the Father's 
 command to fall in line and wait his turn for being 
 made beautiful. 
 
 So it happened that not until the painting was 
 finished and all the birds had flown away to admire 
 themselves in the water-mirrors of the earth, did 
 the Goldfinch present himself at the Father's feet 
 out of breath. 
 
 " O Father ! " he panted, " I am late. But I was 
 so busy ! Pray forgive me and permit me to have 
 a pretty coat like the others." 
 
 " You are late indeed," said the Father reproach- 
 fully, "and all the coloring has been done. You 
 should have come when I bade you. Do you 
 not know that it is the prompt bird who fares 
 best *? My rainbow color-box has been generously 
 used, and I have but little of each tint left. Yet 
 I will paint you with the colors that I have, 
 and if the result be ill you have only yourself to 
 blame." 
 
 The Father smiled gently as He took up the 
 brush which He had laid down, and dipped it 
 in the first color which came to hand. This He 
 used until there was no more, when He began 
 with another shade, and so continued until the 
 
THE CURIOUS BOOK OF BIRDS 
 
 Goldfinch was completely colored from head to 
 foot. Such a gorgeous coat! His forehead and 
 throat were of the most brilliant crimson. His 
 cap and sailor collar were black. His back was 
 brown and yellow, his breast white, his wings 
 golden set off with velvet black, and his tail was 
 black with white-tipped feathers. Certainly there 
 was no danger of his being mistaken for any other 
 bird. 
 
 When the Goldfinch looked down into a pool 
 and saw the reflection of his gorgeous coat, he 
 burst out into a song of joy. " I like it, oh, I like 
 it ! " he warbled, and his song was very sweet. 
 " Oh, I am glad that I was late, indeed I am, dear 
 Father ! " 
 
 But the kind Father sighed and shook His head 
 as He put away the brush, exclaiming, "Poor little 
 Goldfinch ! You are indeed a beautiful bird. But 
 I fear that the gorgeous coat which you wear, and 
 which is the best that I could give you, because 
 you came so late, will cause you more sorrow than 
 joy. Because of it you will be chased and cap- 
 tured and kept in captivity ; and your life will be 
 spent in mourning for the days when you were a 
 plain gray bird." 
 
 And so it happened. For to this day the Gold- 
 finch is persecuted by human folk who admire his 
 
 16 
 
Such a gorgeous (oat ! 
 
THE GORGEOUS GOLDFINCH 
 
 wonderful plumage and his beautiful song. He is 
 kept captive in a cage, while his less gorgeous 
 brothers fly freely in the beautiful world out of 
 doors. 
 
KING OF THE BIRDS 
 
 |NCE upon a time, when the world 
 was very new and when the birds had 
 just learned from Mother Magpie 
 how to build their nests, some one 
 said, " We ought to have a king. Oh, we need a 
 king of the birds very much ! " 
 
 For you see, already in the Garden of Birds 
 trouble had begun. There were disputes every 
 morning as to which was the earliest bird who was 
 entitled to the worm. There were quarrels over 
 the best places for nest-building and over the fat- 
 test bug or beetle ; and there was no one to settle 
 these difficulties. Moreover, the robber birds were 
 growing too bold, and there was no one to rule 
 and punish them. There was no doubt about it ; 
 the birds needed a king to keep them in order 
 and peace. 
 
 So the whisper went about, " We must have 
 a king. Whom shall we choose for our king 2 " 
 
 They decided to hold a great meeting for the 
 election. And because the especial talent of a bird 
 is for flying, they agreed that the bird who could 
 
 18 
 
KING OF THE BIRDS 
 
 fly highest up into the blue sky, straight toward 
 the sun, should be their king, king of all the 
 feathered tribes of the air. 
 
 Therefore, after breakfast one beautiful morn- 
 ing, the birds met in the garden to choose their 
 king. All the birds were there, from the largest to 
 the smallest, chirping, twittering, singing on every 
 bush and tree and bit of dry grass, till the noise 
 was almost as great as nowadays at an election of 
 two-legged folk without feathers. They swooped 
 down in great clouds, till the sky was black with 
 them, and they were dotted on the grass like punc- 
 tuation marks on a green page. There were so 
 many that not even wise Mother Magpie or old 
 Master Owl could count them, and they all talked 
 at the same time, like ladies at an afternoon tea, 
 which was very confusing. 
 
 Little Robin Redbreast was there, hopping about 
 and saying pleasant things to every one, for he was 
 a great favorite. Gorgeous Goldfinch was there, 
 in fine feather; and little Blackbird, who was 
 then as white as snow. There were the proud Pea- 
 cock and the silly Ostrich, the awkward Penguin 
 and the Dodo, whom no man living has ever seen. 
 Likewise there were the Jubjub Bird and the Dinky 
 Bird, and many other curious varieties that one 
 never finds desc/ibed in die wise Bird Books, 
 
 19 
 
THE CURIOUS BOOK OF BIRDS 
 
 which is very strange, and sad, too, I think. Yes, 
 all the birds were there for the choosing of their 
 king, both the birds who could fly, and those who 
 could not. (But for what were they given wings, 
 if not to fly*? How silly an Ostrich must feel!) 
 
 Now the Eagle expected to be king. He felt 
 sure that he could fly higher than any one else. 
 He sat apart on a tall pine tree, looking very dig- 
 nified and noble, as a future king should look. 
 And the birds glanced at one another, nodded their 
 heads, and whispered, " He is sure to be elected 
 king. He can fly straight up toward the sun with- 
 out winking, and his great wings are so strong, 
 so strong ! He never grows tired. He is sure to be 
 king." 
 
 Thus they whispered among themselves, and the 
 Eagle heard them, and was pleased. But the little 
 brown Wren heard also, and he was not pleased. 
 The absurd little bird! He wanted to be king 
 himself, although he was one of the tiniest birds 
 there, who could never be a protector to the 
 others, nor stop trouble when it began. No, in- 
 deed ! Fancy him stepping as a peacemaker be- 
 tween a robber Hawk and a bloody Falcon. It was 
 they who would make pieces of him. But he 
 was a conceited little creature, and saw no reason 
 why he should not make a noble sovereign. 
 
 20 
 
KING OF THE BIRDS 
 
 " I am cleverer than the Eagle," he said to him- 
 self, " though he is so much bigger. I will be king in 
 spite of him. Ha-ha ! We shall see what we shall 
 see ! " For the Wren had a great idea in his wee 
 little head an idea bigger than the head itself, 
 if you can explain how that could be. He ruffled 
 up his feathers to make himself as huge as pos- 
 sible, and hopped over to the branch where the 
 Eagle was sitting. 
 
 " Well, Eagle," said the Wren pompously, " I 
 suppose you expect to be king, eh *? " 
 
 The Eagle stared hard at him with his great 
 bright eyes. " Well, if I do, what of that *? " he 
 said. " Who will dispute me *? " 
 
 "I shall," said the Wren, bobbing his little 
 brown head and wriggling his tail saucily. 
 
 " You ! " said the Eagle. " Do you expect to 
 fly higher than I ? " 
 
 " Yes," chirped the Wren, " I do. Yes, I do, 
 do, do!" 
 
 " Ho ! " said the Eagle scornfully. " I am big 
 and strong and brave. I can fly higher than the 
 clouds. You, poor little thing, are no bigger than 
 a bean. You will be out of breath before we have 
 gone twice this tree's height." 
 
 " Little as I am, I can mount higher than you," 
 said the Wren. 
 
 21 
 
THE CURIOUS BOOK OF BIRDS 
 
 "What will you wager, Wren?" asked the 
 Eagle. " What will you give me if I win *? " 
 
 " If you win you will be king," said the Wren. 
 " But beside that, if you win I will give you my fat 
 little body to eat for your breakfast. But if I win, 
 Sir, I shall be king, and you must promise never, 
 never, never, to hurt me or any of my people." 
 
 " Very well. I promise," said the Eagle haugh- 
 tily. " Come now, it is time for the trial, you poor 
 little foolish creature." 
 
 The birds were flapping their wings and singing 
 eagerly, " Let us begin begin. We want to see 
 who is to be king. Come, birds, to the trial. Who 
 can fly the highest ? Come ! " 
 
 Then the Eagle spread his great wings and 
 mounted leisurely into the air, straight toward the 
 noonday sun. And after him rose a number of 
 other birds who wanted to be king, the wicked 
 Hawk, the bold Albatross, and the Skylark sing- 
 ing his wonderful song. The long-legged Stork 
 started also, but that was only for a joke. " Fancy 
 me for a king ! " he cried, and he laughed so that 
 he had to come down again in a minute. But the 
 Wren was nowhere to be seen. The truth was, 
 he had hopped ever so lightly upon the Eagle's 
 head, where he sat like a tiny crest. But the Eagle 
 did not know he was there. 
 
 22 
 
KING OF THE BIRDS 
 
 Soon the Hawk and the Albatross and even the 
 brave little Skylark fell behind, and the Eagle 
 began to chuckle to himself at his easy victory. 
 "Where are you, poor little Wren?" he cried 
 very loudly, for he fancied that the tiny bird must 
 be left far, far below. 
 
 " Here I am, here I am, away up above you, 
 Master Eagle ! " piped the Wren in a weak little 
 voice. And the Eagle fancied the Wren was so 
 far up in the air that even his sharp eyes could 
 not spy the tiny creature. " Dear me ! " said he to 
 himself. " How extraordinary that he has passed 
 me." So he redoubled his speed and flew on, 
 higher, higher. 
 
 Presently he called out again in a tremendous 
 voice, " Well, where are you now ? Where are 
 you now, poor little Wren *? " 
 
 Once more he heard the tiny shrill voice from 
 somewhere above piping, " Here I am, here I am, 
 nearer the sun than you, Master Eagle. Will you 
 give up now ? " 
 
 Of course the Eagle would not give up yet. He 
 flew on, higher and higher, till the garden and its 
 flock of patient birds waiting for their king grew 
 dim and blurry below. And at last even the mighty 
 wings of the Eagle were weary, for he was far above 
 the clouds. " Surely," he thought, " now the Wren 
 
 2 3 
 
THE CURIOUS BOOK OF BIRDS 
 
 is left miles behind." He gave a scream of triumph 
 and cried, "Where are you now, poor little 
 Wren? Can you hear me at all, down below 
 there?" 
 
 But what was his amazement to hear the same 
 little voice above his head shrilling, " Here I am, 
 here I am, Sir Eagle. Look up and see me, look ! " 
 And there, sure enough, he was fluttering above 
 the Eagle's head. " And now, since I have mounted 
 so much higher than you, will you agree that I 
 have won?" 
 
 " Yes, you have won, little Wren. Let us de- 
 scend together, for I am weary enough," cried the 
 Eagle, much mortified ; and down he swooped, on 
 heavy, discouraged wings. 
 
 " Yes, let us descend together," murmured the 
 Wren, once more perching comfortably on the 
 Eagle's head. And so down he rode on this con- 
 venient elevator, which was the first one invented 
 in this world. 
 
 When the Eagle nearly reached the ground, 
 the other birds set up a cry of greeting. 
 
 " Hail, King Eagle ! " they sang. " How high 
 you flew ! How near the sun ! Did he not scorch 
 your Majesty's feathers ? Hail, mighty king ! " and 
 they made a deafening chorus. But the Eagle 
 stopped them. 
 
 24 
 
KING OF THE BIRDS 
 
 " The Wren is your king, not I," he said. " He 
 mounted higher than I did." 
 
 "The Wren? Ha-ha! The Wren ! We can't 
 believe that. The Wren flew higher than you? 
 No, no ! " they all shouted. But just then the 
 Eagle lighted on a tree, and from the top of his 
 head hopped the little Wren, cocking his head 
 and ruffling himself proudly. 
 
 " Yes, I mounted higher than he," he cried, " for 
 I was perched on his head all the while, ha-ha! 
 And now, therefore, I am king, small though 
 I be." 
 
 Now the Eagle was very angry when he saw 
 the trick that had been played upon him, and he 
 swooped upon the sly Wren to punish him. But 
 the Wren screamed, " Remember, remember your 
 promise never to injure me or mine ! " Then the 
 Eagle stopped, for he was a noble bird and never 
 forgot a promise. He folded his wings and turned 
 away in disgust. 
 
 "Be king, then, O cheat and trickster!" he 
 said. 
 
 "Cheat and trickster!" echoed the other birds. 
 " We will have no such fellow for our king. Cheat 
 and trickster he is, and he shall be punished. You 
 shall be king, brave Eagle, for without your strength 
 he could never have flown so high. It is you whom 
 
 25 
 
THE CURIOUS BOOK OF BIRDS 
 
 we want for our protector and lawmaker, not this 
 sly fellow no bigger than a bean." 
 
 So the Eagle became their king, after all ; and 
 a noble bird he is, as you must understand, or he 
 would never have been chosen to guard our na- 
 tion's coat of arms. And besides this you may see 
 his picture on many a banner and crest and coin 
 of gold or silver, so famous has he become. 
 
 But the Wren was to be punished. And while 
 the birds were trying to decide what should be 
 done with him, they put him in prison in a mouse- 
 hole and set Master Owl to guard the door. Now 
 while the judges were putting their heads together 
 the lazy Owl fell fast asleep, and out of prison 
 stole the little Wren and was far away before any 
 one could catch him. So he was never punished 
 after all, as he richly deserved to be. 
 
 The birds were so angry with old Master Owl 
 for his carelessness that he has never since dared 
 to show his face abroad in daytime, but hides away 
 in his hollow tree. And only at night he wanders 
 alone in the woods, sorry and ashamed. 
 
 26 
 
HALCYONE 
 
 'HE story of the first Kingfisher is a 
 sad one, and you need not read it 
 unless for a very little while you wish 
 to feel sorry. 
 Long, long ago when the world was new, there 
 lived a beautiful princess named Halcyone. She 
 was the daughter of old JSolus, King of the Winds, 
 and lived with him on his happy island, where it 
 was his chief business to keep in order the four 
 boisterous brothers, Boreas, the North Wind, 
 Zephyrus, the West Wind, Auster, the South 
 Wind, and Eurus, the East Wind. Sometimes, in- 
 deed, ^Eolus had a hard time of it ; for the Winds 
 would escape from his control and rush out upon 
 the sea for their terrible games, which were sure to 
 bring death and destruction to the sailors and their 
 ships. Knowing them so well, for she had grown up 
 with these rough playmates, Halcyone came to 
 dread more than anything else the cruelties which 
 they practiced at every opportunity. 
 
 One day the Prince Ceyx came to the island of 
 King ^Eolus. He was the son of Hesperus, the 
 
 27 
 
THE CURIOUS BOOK OF BIRDS 
 
 Evening Star, and he was the king of the great 
 land of Thessaly. Ceyx and Halcyone grew to 
 love each other dearly, and at last with the consent 
 of good King ^Eolus, but to the wrath of the four 
 Winds, the beautiful princess went away to be the 
 wife of Ceyx and Queen of Thessaly. 
 
 For a long time they lived happily in their 
 peaceful kingdom, but finally came a day when 
 Ceyx must take a long voyage on the sea, to visit 
 a temple in a far country. Halcyone could not 
 bear to have him go, for she feared the dangers of 
 the great deep, knowing well the cruelty of the 
 Winds, whom King JEolus had such difficulty in 
 keeping within bounds. She knew how the mis- 
 chievous brothers loved to rush down upon ven- 
 turesome sailors and blow them into danger, and 
 she knew that they especially hated her husband 
 because he had carried her away from the island 
 where she had watched the Winds at their terrible 
 play. She begged Ceyx not to go, but he said 
 that it was necessary. Then she prayed that if he 
 must go he would take her with him, for she could 
 not bear to remain behind dreading what might 
 happen. 
 
 But Ceyx was resolved that Halcyone should 
 not go. The good king longed to take her with 
 him ; no more than she could he smile at the 
 . 28 
 
HALCYONE 
 
 thought of separation. But he also feared the sea, 
 not on his own account, but for his dear wife. In 
 spite of her entreaties he remained firm. If all went 
 well he promised to return in two months' time. 
 But Halcyone knew that she should never see him 
 again as now he spoke. 
 
 The day of separation came. Standing heart- 
 broken upon the shore, Halcyone watched the ves- 
 sel sail away into the East, until as a little speck it 
 dropped below the horizon ; then sobbing bitterly 
 she returned to the palace. 
 
 Now the king and his men had completed but 
 half their journey when a terrible storm arose. 
 The wicked Winds had escaped from the control 
 of good old ^Eolus and were rushing down upon 
 the ocean to punish Ceyx for carrying away the 
 beautiful Halcyone. Fiercely they blew, the light- 
 ning flashed, and the sea ran high; and in the 
 midst of the horrible tumult the good ship went 
 to the bottom with all on board. Thus the fears 
 of Halcyone were proved true, and far from his 
 dear wife poor Ceyx perished in the cruel waves. 
 
 That very night when the shipwreck occurred, 
 the sad and fearful Halcyone, sleeping lonely at 
 home, knew in a dream the very calamity which 
 had happened. She seemed to see the storm and 
 the shipwreck, and the form of Ceyx appeared, 
 
 29 
 
THE CURIOUS BOOK OF BIRDS 
 
 saying a sad farewell to her. As soon as it was 
 light she rose and hastened to the seashore, trem- 
 bling with a horrible dread. Standing on the very 
 spot whence she had last seen the fated ship, she 
 looked wistfully over the waste of stormy waters. 
 At last she spied a dark something tossing on the 
 waves. The object floated nearer and nearer, until 
 a huge breaker cast before her on the sand the body 
 of her drowned husband. 
 
 " O dearest Ceyx ! " she cried. "Is it thus that 
 you return to me ^ " Stretching out her arms to- 
 ward him, she leaped upon the sea wall as if she 
 would throw herself into the ocean, which advanced 
 and retreated, seething around his body. But a dif- 
 ferent fate was to be hers. As she leaped forward 
 two strong wings sprouted from her shoulders, and 
 before she knew it she found herself skimming 
 lightly as a bird over the water. From her throat 
 came sounds of sobbing, which changed as she flew 
 into the shrill piping of a bird. Soft feathers now 
 covered her body, and a crest rose above the fore- 
 head which had once been so fair. Halcyone was 
 become a Kingfisher, the first Kingfisher who ever 
 flew lamenting above the waters of the world. 
 
 The sad bird fluttered through the spray straight 
 to the body that was tossed upon the surf. As her 
 wings touched the wet shoulders, and as her horny 
 
 3 
 
HALCYONE 
 
 beak sought the dumb lips in an attempt to kiss 
 what was once so dear, the body of Ceyx began to 
 receive new life. The limbs stirred, a faint color 
 returned to the cheeks. At the same moment a 
 change like that which had transformed Halcyone 
 began to pass over her husband. He too was be- 
 coming a Kingfisher. He too felt the thrill of wings 
 upon his shoulders, wings which were to bear him 
 up and away out of the sea which had been his 
 death. He too was clad in soft plumage with a 
 kingly crest upon his kingly head. With a faint 
 cry, half of sorrow for what had happened, half of 
 joy for the future in which these two loving ones 
 were at least to be together, Ceyx rose from the 
 surf-swept sand where his lifeless limbs had lain 
 and went skimming over the waves beside Hal- 
 cyone his wife. 
 
 So those unhappy mortals became the first king- 
 fishers, happy at last in being reunited. So we see 
 them still, flying up and down over the waters of 
 the world, royal forms with royal crests upon their 
 heads. 
 
 They built their nest of the bones of fish, a stout 
 and well-joined basket which floated on the waves 
 as safely as any little boat. And while their chil- 
 dren, the baby Halcyons, lay in this rocking cradle, 
 for seven days in the heart of winter, no storms 
 
 3 1 
 
THE CURIOUS BOOK OF BIRDS 
 
 ever troubled the ocean and mariners could set out 
 upon their voyages without fear. 
 
 For while his little grandchildren rocked in their 
 basket, the good King ^Eolus, pitying the sorrows 
 of his daughter Halcyone, was always especially 
 careful to chain up in prison those wicked brothers 
 the Winds, so that they could do no mischief of 
 any kind. 
 
 And that is why a halcyon time has come to 
 mean a season of peace and safety. 
 
THE FORGETFUL KINGFISHER 
 
 |N these days the Kingfisher is a sad 
 and solitary bird, caring not to venture 
 far from the water where she finds her 
 food. Up and down the river banks 
 she goes, uttering a peculiar plaintive cry. What 
 is she saying, and why is she so restless? The 
 American Kingfisher is gray, but her cousin of 
 Europe is a bird of brilliant azure with a breast of 
 rusty red. Therefore it must have been the foreign 
 Kingfisher who was forgetful, as you shall hear. 
 
 Long, long after the sorrows of Halcyone, the 
 first Kingfisher, were ended, came the great storm 
 which lasted forty days and forty nights, causing 
 the worst flood which the world has ever known. 
 That was a terrible time. When Father Noah has- 
 tened to build his ark, inviting the animals and 
 birds to take refuge with him, the Kingfisher her- 
 self was glad to go aboard. For even she, pro- 
 tected by ^Eolus from the fury of winds and 
 waters, was not safe while there was no place in 
 all the world for her to rest foot and weary wing. 
 So the Kingfisher fluttered in with the other birds 
 
 33 
 
THE CURIOUS BOOK OF BIRDS 
 
 and animals, a strange company ! And there they 
 lived all together, Noah and his arkful of pets, for 
 many weary days, while the waters raged and the 
 winds howled outside, and all the earth was cov- 
 ered fathoms deep out of sight below the waves. 
 
 But after long weeks the storm ceased, and Father 
 Noah opened the little window in the ark and sent 
 forth the Dove to see whether or not there was 
 land visible on which the ark might find rest. 
 Now after he had sent out the Dove, Noah looked 
 about him at the other birds and animals which 
 crowded around him eagerly, for they were grow- 
 ing very restless from their long confinement, and 
 he said, " Which of you is bravest, and will dare 
 follow our friend the Dove out into the watery 
 world *? Ah, here is the Kingfisher. Little mother, 
 you at least, reared among the winds and waters, 
 will not be afraid. Take wing, O Kingfisher, and 
 see if the earth be visible. Then return quickly 
 and bring me faithful word of what you find out 
 yonder." 
 
 Day was just beginning to dawn when the King- 
 fisher, who was then as gray as gray, flew out 
 from the little window of the ark whence the Dove 
 had preceded her. But hardly had she left the safe 
 shelter of Father Noah's floating home, when there 
 came a tremendous whirlwind which blew her 
 
 34 
 
THE FORGETFUL KINGFISHER 
 
 about and buffeted her until she was almost beaten 
 into the waves, which rolled endlessly over the 
 face of the whole earth, covering the high hills and 
 the very mountains. The Kingfisher was greatly 
 frightened. She could not go back into the ark, 
 for the little window was closed, and there was no 
 land anywhere on which she could take refuge. 
 Just think for a moment what a dreadful situa- 
 tion it was ! There was nothing for her to do but 
 to fly up, straight up, out of reach from the toss- 
 ing waves and dashing spray. 
 
 The Kingfisher was fresh and vigorous, and 
 her wings were strong and powerful, for she had 
 been resting long days in the quiet ark, eating 
 the provisions which Father Noah had thought- 
 fully prepared for his many guests. So up, up she 
 soared, above the very clouds, on into the blue 
 ether which lies beyond. And lo ! as she did so, 
 her sober gray dress became a brilliant blue, the 
 color caught from the azure of those clear heights. 
 Higher and higher she flew, feeling so free and 
 happy after her long captivity, that she quite for- 
 got Father Noah and the errand upon which she 
 had been sent. Up and up she went, higher than 
 the sun, until at last she saw him rising far be- 
 neath her, a beautiful ball of fire, more dazzling, 
 more wonderful than she had ever guessed. 
 
 35 
 
THE CURIOUS BOOK OF BIRDS 
 
 " Hola ! " she cried, beside herself with joy at the 
 sight. " There is the dear sun, whom I have not 
 seen for many days. And how near, how beauti- 
 ful he is! I will fly closer still, now that I have 
 come so near. I will observe him in all his splendor, 
 as no other bird, not even the high-flying, sharp- 
 eyed Eagle, has ever seen him." 
 
 And with that the foolish Kingfisher turned her 
 course downward, with such mad, headlong speed 
 that she had scarcely time to feel what terrible, in- 
 creasing heat shot from the sun's rays, until she was 
 so close upon him that it was too late to escape. 
 Oh, but that was a dreadful moment ! The feath- 
 ers on her poor little breast were scorched and set 
 afire, and she seemed in danger not only of spoiling 
 her beautiful new blue dress but of being burned 
 into a wretched little cinder. Horribly frightened 
 at her danger, the Kingfisher turned once more, 
 but this time toward the rolling waters which cov- 
 ered the earth. Down, down she swooped, until 
 with the hiss of burning feathers she splashed into 
 the cold wetness, putting out the fire which threat- 
 ened to consume her. Once, twice, thrice, she 
 dipped into the grateful coolness, flirting the drops 
 from her blue plumage, now alas ! sadly scorched. 
 
 When the pain of her burns was somewhat re- 
 lieved she had time to think what next she should 
 
 36 
 
THE FORGETFUL KINGFISHER 
 
 do. She longed for rest, for refuge, for Father 
 Noah's gentle, caressing hand to which she had 
 grown accustomed during those stormy weeks of 
 companionship in the ark. But where was Father 
 Noah ? Where was the ark ? On all the rolling 
 sea of water there was no movement of life, no 
 sign of any human presence. Then the Kingfisher 
 remembered her errand, and how carelessly she 
 had performed it. She had been bidden to return 
 quickly; but she had wasted many hours she 
 could not tell how many in her forgetful flight. 
 And now she was to be punished indeed, if she 
 could not find her master and the ark of refuge. 
 
 The poor Kingfisher looked wildly about. She 
 fluttered here and there, backward and forward, 
 over the weary stretch of waves, crying piteously 
 for her master. He did not answer ; there was no 
 ark to be found. The sun set and the night came 
 on, but still she sought eagerly from east to west, 
 from north to south, always in vain. She could 
 never find what she had so carelessly lost. 
 
 The truth is that during her absence the Dove, 
 who had done her errand faithfully, returned at last 
 with the olive leaf which told of one spot upon 
 the earth's surface at last uncovered by the waves. 
 Then the ark, blown hither and thither by the same 
 storm which had driven the Kingfisher to fly up- 
 
 37 
 
THE CURIOUS BOOK OF BIRDS 
 
 ward into the ether-blue, had drifted far and far to 
 Mount Ararat, where it ran aground. And Father 
 Noah, disembarking with his family and all the as- 
 sembled animals, had broken up the ark, intending 
 there to build him a house out of the materials 
 from which it was made. But this was many, many 
 leagues from the place where the poor Kingfisher, 
 lonely and frightened, hovered about, crying pite- 
 ously for her master. 
 
 And even when the waters dried away, uncover- 
 ing the earth in many places, so that the Kingfisher 
 could alight and build herself a nest, she was never 
 happy nor content, but to this day flies up and 
 down the water-ways of the world piping sadly, 
 looking eagerly for her dear master and for some 
 traces of the ark which sheltered her. And the re- 
 flection which she makes in the water below shows 
 an azure-blue body, like a reflection of the sky 
 above, with some of the breast-feathers scorched to 
 a rusty red. And now you know how it all came 
 about. 
 
THE WREN WHO BROUGHT FIRE 
 
 JENTURIES and centuries ago, when 
 men were first made, there was no 
 such thing as fire known in all the 
 world. Folk had no fire with which 
 to cook their food, and so they were obliged to eat 
 it raw ; which was very unpleasant, as you may 
 imagine ! There were no cheery fireplaces about 
 which to sit and tell stories, or make candy or 
 pop corn. There was no light in the darkness at 
 night except the sun and moon and stars. There 
 were not even candles in those days, to say nothing 
 of gas lamps or electric lights. It is strange to 
 think of such a world where even the grown folks, 
 like the children and the birds, had to go to bed 
 at dusk, because there was nothing else to do. 
 
 But the little birds, who lived nearer heaven than 
 men, knew of the fire in the sun, and knew also 
 what a fine thing it would be for the tribes without 
 feathers if they could have some of the magic ele- 
 ment. 
 
 One day the birds held a solemn meeting, when 
 it was decided that men must have fire. Then 
 
 39 
 
THE CURIOUS BOOK OF BIRDS 
 
 some one must fly up to the sun and bring a fire- 
 brand thence. Who would undertake this danger- 
 ous errand ? Already by sad experience the King- 
 fisher had felt the force of the sun's heat, while 
 the Eagle and the Wren, in the famous flight 
 which they had taken together, had learned the 
 same thing. The assembly of birds looked at one 
 another, and there was a silence. 
 
 " I dare not go," said the Kingfisher, trembling 
 at the idea ; " I have been up there once, and the 
 warning I received was enough to last me for some 
 time." 
 
 " I cannot go," said the Peacock, " for my plum- 
 age is too precious to risk." 
 
 " I ought not to go," said the Lark, " for the 
 heat might injure my pretty voice." 
 
 " I must not go," said the Stork, " for I have 
 promised to bring a baby to the King's palace this 
 evening." 
 
 " I cannot go," said the Dove, " for I have a nest- 
 ful of little ones who depend upon me for food." 
 
 " Nor I," said the Sparrow, " for I am afraid." 
 " Nor I ! " " Nor I ! " " Nor I ! " echoed the other 
 birds. 
 
 " I will not go," croaked the Owl, " for I sim- 
 ply do not wish to." 
 
 Then up spoke the little Wren, who had been 
 40 
 
THE WREN WHO BROUGHT FIRE 
 
 keeping in the background of late, because he was 
 despised for his attempt to deceive the birds into 
 electing him their king. 
 
 " I will go," said the Wren. " I will go and bring 
 fire to men. I am of little use here. No one loves 
 me. Every one despises me because of the trick 
 which I played the Eagle, our King. No one 
 will care if I am injured in the attempt. I will go 
 and try." 
 
 " Bravely spoken, little friend," said the Eagle 
 kindly. " I myself would go but that I am the 
 King, and kings must not risk the lives upon 
 which hangs the welfare of their people. Go you, 
 little Wren, and if you are successful you will win 
 back the respect of your brothers which you have 
 forfeited." 
 
 The brave little bird set out upon his errand 
 without further words. And weak and delicate 
 though he was, he flew and he flew up and up so 
 sturdily that at last he reached the sun, whence he 
 plucked a firebrand and bore it swiftly in his beak 
 back toward the earth. Like a falling star the 
 bright speck flashed through the air, drawing ever 
 nearer and nearer to the cool waters of Birdland and 
 the safety which awaited him there. The other 
 birds gathered in a flock about their king and 
 anxiously watched the Wren's approach. 
 
THE CURIOUS BOOK OF BIRDS 
 
 Suddenly the Robin cried out, " Alas ! He 
 burns ! He has caught fire ! " And off darted the 
 faithful little friend to help the Wren. Sure 
 enough, a spark from the blazing brand had fallen 
 upon the plumage of the Wren, and his poor little 
 wings were burning as he fluttered piteously down, 
 still holding the fire in his beak. 
 
 The Robin flew up to him and said, " Well 
 done, brother ! You have succeeded. Now give 
 me the fire and I will relieve you while you drop 
 into the lake below us to quench the flame which 
 threatens your life." 
 
 So the Robin in his turn seized the firebrand in 
 his beak and started down with it. But, like the 
 Wren, he too was soon fluttering in the blaze of 
 his own burning plumage, a little living firework, 
 falling toward the earth. 
 
 Then up came the Lark, who had been watch- 
 ing the two unselfish birds. " Give me the brand, 
 brother Robin," she cried, " for your pretty feathers 
 are all ablaze and your life is in danger." 
 
 So it was the Lark who finally brought the fire 
 safely to the earth and gave it to mankind. But 
 the Robin and the Wren, when they had put out 
 the flame which burned their feathers, appeared 
 in the assembly of the birds, and were greeted 
 with great applause as the heroes of the day. The 
 
 42 
 
THE WREN WHO BROUGHT FIRE 
 
 Robin's breast was scorched a brilliant red, but the 
 poor, brave little Wren was wholly bare of plum- 
 age. All his pretty feathers had been burned away, 
 and he stood before them shivering and piteous. 
 
 " Bravo ! little Wren," cried King Eagle. " A 
 noble deed you have done this day, and nobly 
 have you won back the respect of your brother 
 birds and earned the everlasting gratitude of men. 
 Now what shall we do to help you in your sorry 
 plight *? " After a moment's thought he turned to 
 the other birds and said, " Who will give a feather 
 to help patch a covering for our brave friend*? " 
 
 " I ! " and " I ! " and " I ! " and " I ! " chorused 
 the generous birds. And in turn each came forward 
 with a plume or a bit of down from his breast. 
 The Robin first, who had shared his peril, brought 
 a feather sadly scorched, but precious ; the Lark 
 next, who had helped in the time of need. The 
 Eagle bestowed a kingly feather, the Thrush, the 
 Nightingale, every bird contributed except the 
 Owl. 
 
 But the selfish Owl said, " I see no reason 
 why I should give a feather. Hoot ! No ! The 
 Wren brought me into trouble once, and I will 
 not help him now. Let him go bare, for all my 
 aid." 
 
 " Shame ! Shame ! " cried the birds indignantly. 
 43 
 
THE CURIOUS BOOK OF BIRDS 
 
 " Old Master Owl, you ought to be ashamed. But 
 if you are so selfish we will not have you in our 
 society. Go back to your hollow tree ! " 
 
 " Yes, go back to your hollow tree," cried the 
 Eagle sternly ; " and when winter comes may you 
 shiver with cold as you would have left the brave 
 little Wren to shiver this day. You shall ruffle 
 your feathers as much as you like, but you will 
 always feel cold at heart, because your heart is 
 selfish." 
 
 And indeed, since that day for all his feathers the 
 Owl has never been able to keep warm enough in 
 his lonely hollow tree. 
 
 But the Wren became one of the happiest of all 
 the birds, and a favorite both with his feathered 
 brothers and with men, because of his brave deed, 
 and because of the great fire-gift which he had 
 brought from the sun. 
 
 44 
 
HOW THE BLUEBIRD CROSSED 
 
 F course every one knows that the 
 Bluebird was made from a piece of 
 the azure sky itself. One has only to 
 match his wonderful color against the 
 April heaven to be sure of that Therefore the lit- 
 tle Bluebird was especially dear to the Spirit of the 
 sky, the Father in Heaven. 
 
 One day this venturesome little bird started out 
 upon a long journey across the wide Pacific Ocean 
 toward this New World which neither Columbus 
 nor any other man had yet discovered. Under him 
 tossed the wide, wide sea, rolling for miles in every 
 direction, with no land visible anywhere on which 
 a little bird might rest his foot For this was also 
 before there were any islands in all that stretch of 
 waters. Soon the poor little Bluebird became very 
 weary and wished he had not ventured upon so 
 long a flight. His wings began to droop and he 
 sank lower and lower toward the sea which seemed 
 eager to overwhelm his blueness with its own. He 
 had come so far over the salty wastes that he was 
 very thirsty; but with water, water everywhere 
 
 45 
 
THE CURIOUS BOOK OF BIRDS 
 
 there was not a drop to drink. The poor little bird 
 glanced despairingly up toward the blue sky from 
 which he had been made and cried, 
 
 "O Spirit of the blue sky, O my Father in 
 Heaven, help your child the Bluebird! Give 
 me, I pray you, a place to rest and refreshment 
 for my thirsty throat, or I perish in the cruel blue 
 waters ! " 
 
 At these sorrowful words the kind Father took 
 pity upon his little Bluebird. And what do you 
 think ? He made a baby earthquake which heaved 
 a rocky point of land up through the waves, just 
 big enough for a little bird's perch. It was a tiny 
 reef, and a crack in the rock held but a few drops 
 of the rain which began to fall ; but it meant at 
 least a moment's safety and draught of life for the 
 weary bird, and glad enough he was to reach it. 
 
 He had not been there long, however, when a 
 big wave almost washed him away. He was not 
 yet safe. Still he lacked the rest and refreshment 
 which he so sorely needed. For the raindrops were 
 soon turned brackish by the waves which dashed 
 upon the reef from all sides, and the Bluebird had 
 to keep hopping up and down to avoid being 
 drowned in the tossing spray. He was more tired 
 than ever, and this continuous exercise made him 
 even more thirsty. Once more he prayed to the 
 
 46 
 
HOW THE BLUEBIRD CROSSED 
 
 Father for help. And once more the kind Spirit 
 of the Sky heard him from the blueness. 
 
 This time there was a terrible earthquake, until 
 the sea boiled and rolled into huge waves as if 
 churned by a mighty churn at the very bottom of 
 things, and with a terrified scream the Bluebird 
 flew high into the air. 
 
 But when the noise and the rumbling died away 
 and once more the sea lay calm and still, what do 
 you think the Bluebird saw*? The great ocean 
 which had once stretched an unbroken sheet of blue 
 as far as the eye could see was now dotted here and 
 there by islands, big islands and little islands, groups 
 and archipelagoes of them, just as on the map one 
 sees them to-day peppering the Pacific Ocean. Sa- 
 moa came up, and Tonga, and Tulima, and many 
 others with names quite as bad, if not worse. From 
 one island to another the Bluebird flew, finding 
 rest and refreshment on each, until he reached the 
 mainland in safety. And there the islands re- 
 main to this day for other travelers to visit, break- 
 ing their journey from west to east or from east 
 to west. There are forests and cascades, springs 
 of fresh and pleasant water, delicious fruits, won- 
 derful birds and animals, and finally a race of 
 strange, dark men. (But they came long, long 
 after.) 
 
 47 
 
THE CURIOUS BOOK OF BIRDS 
 
 So the Bluebird crossed the Pacific, folk tell. 
 Was it not wonderful how the kind Father came to 
 scatter those many islands in the Pacific Ocean, 
 stepping-stones for a tiny little Bluebird so that he 
 need not wet his feet in crossing that wide salty 
 river *? 
 
 48 
 
THE PEACOCK'S COUSIN 
 
 JONG, long ago in the days of wise King 
 Solomon, the Crow and the Pheasant 
 were the best of friends, and were al- 
 ways seen going about together, wing 
 in wing. Now the Pheasant was the Peacock's 
 own cousin, a great honor, many thought, for 
 the Peacock was the most gorgeous of all the 
 birds. But it was not altogether pleasant for the 
 Pheasant, because at that time he wore such plain 
 and shabby old garments that his proud relative 
 was ashamed of him, and did not like to be re- 
 minded that they were of the same family. When 
 the Peacock went strutting about with his wonder- 
 ful tail spread fan-wise, and with his vain little 
 eyes peering to see who might be admiring his 
 beauty, the Peacock's cousin and his friend the 
 Crow, who was then a plain white bird, would 
 slink aside and hide behind a tree, whence they 
 would peep enviously until the Peacock had 
 passed by. Then the Peacock's cousin would 
 say, 
 
 " Oh, how beautiful, how grand, how noble he 
 49 
 
THE CURIOUS BOOK OF BIRDS 
 
 is ! How came such a lordly bird to have for a 
 cousin so homely a creature as I ? " 
 
 But the Crow would answer, trying to comfort 
 his friend, " Yes, he is gorgeous. But listen, what 
 a harsh and disagreeable voice he has ! And see 
 how vain he is. I would not be so vain had I so 
 scandalous a tale in my family history." 
 
 Then the Crow told the Peacock's cousin how 
 his proud relative came to have so unmusical a 
 voice. 
 
 When Adam and Eve were living peacefully 
 in their fair garden, while Satan was still seeking 
 in vain a way to enter there, the Peacock was 
 the most beautiful of all the companions who 
 surrounded the happy pair. His plumage shone 
 like pearl and emerald, and his voice was so 
 melodious that he was selected to sing the Lord's 
 praises every day in the streets of heaven. But 
 he was then, as now, very, very vain; and Satan, 
 prowling about outside the wall of Paradise, saw 
 this. 
 
 " Aha ! " he said to himself, " here is the vainest 
 creature in all the world. He is the one I must 
 flatter in order to win entrance to the garden, where 
 I am to work my mischief. Let me approach the 
 Peacock." 
 
 5o 
 
THE PEACOCK'S COUSIN 
 
 Satan stole softly to the gate and in a whee- 
 dling voice called to the Peacock, 
 
 " O most wonderful and beautiful bird ! Are you 
 one of the birds of Paradise ? " 
 
 " Yes, I am one of the dwellers in the happy 
 garden," answered the Peacock, strutting. " But 
 who are you who slink about so secretly, as if 
 afraid of some one *? " 
 
 " I am one of the cherubim who are appointed 
 to sing the Lord's praises," answered the wicked 
 Satan. " I have stopped for a moment to visit the 
 Paradise which He has prepared for the blest, and 
 I find as my first glimpse of its glories you, O 
 most lovely bird ! Will you conceal me under 
 your rainbow wings and bring me within the 
 walls 2 " 
 
 " I dare not," answered the Peacock. " The Lord 
 allows none to enter here. He will be angry and 
 will punish me." 
 
 " O charming bird ! " went on Satan with his 
 smooth tongue, " take me with you, and I will 
 teach you three mysterious words which shall pre- 
 serve you forever from sickness, age, and death." 
 
 At this promise the Peacock was greatly tempted 
 and began to hesitate in his refusals. And at last 
 he said, 
 
 " I dare not myself let you in, O stranger, but 
 
THE CURIOUS BOOK OF BIRDS 
 
 if you keep your promise I will send the Serpent, 
 who is wiser than I and who may more easily find 
 some way to let you enter unobserved." 
 
 So it was through the Peacock that Satan met 
 the vile Serpent, whose shape he assumed in order 
 to enter the garden and tempt Eve with the ap- 
 ple. And for the Peacock's share in the doings of 
 that dreadful day the Lord took away his beautiful 
 voice and sent him forth from the pleasant garden 
 to chatter harshly in this workaday world, where 
 his gorgeousness and his vanity are but a reminder 
 to men of the shame which he brought upon their 
 ancestors. 
 
 " And therefore," said the Crow, concluding his 
 gossip, " therefore, dear Pheasant, I see no reason 
 why we should envy your cousin. We are very 
 plain citizens of Birdland, but we are at least re- 
 spectable. I like you much better, having no- 
 thing to make you vain, nothing of which to be 
 ashamed." 
 
 So the Crow spoke, in the wisdom which he 
 had learned from Solomon. But the Peacock's 
 cousin refused to be comforted. The shabbiness 
 of his coat preyed upon his mind, and he fan- 
 cied that the other birds jeered at him because in 
 
 52 
 
THE PEACOCK'S COUSIN 
 
 such old clothes he dared to be the Peacock's 
 cousin. It seemed to him that every day the Pea- 
 cock himself grew more haughty and more 
 patronizing. 
 
 One day the Crow and the Peacock's cousin 
 were sauntering through the Malay woods when 
 they met the Peacock face to face. The Crow 
 looked defiant and stood jauntily; but the Pheas- 
 ant tried to shrink out of sight. The Peacock, 
 however, had spied his poor relative, and was filled 
 with cousinly resentment at his appearance. 
 
 He stopped short. He stood upon one leg. 
 He puffed and ruffled himself, spreading out his 
 thousand-eyed tail so that its colors flashed won- 
 derfully in the sunshine. He frilled his neck feath- 
 ers and snapped his mean little eyes maliciously; 
 then turning his back on the shabby couple said, 
 as he stepped airily away, 
 
 " Ah, I have dropped some of my old feathers 
 back there a little way. You can have them if 
 you like, Pheasant. They will freshen you up a 
 bit ; you really are looking shockingly seedy. But 
 for mercy's sake don't wear them in my presence ! 
 I can't bear to see any one parading in my cast-off 
 elegance." Then the Peacock minced away. 
 
 The Peacock's cousin stamped on the ground 
 and flapped his wings with rage. If he had been 
 
 53 
 
THE CURIOUS BOOK OF BIRDS 
 
 a girl he would have burst into tears. " I cannot 
 stand this," he cried. " To be treated as if I were a 
 beggar ! To be given old clothes to wear ! Crow, 
 Crow, if you were any kind of friend you would 
 help me. But you stand staring there and see me 
 insulted, without turning a feather ! What is the 
 use of all your wisdom that you learned from 
 King Solomon if you cannot help a friend in 
 need? I tell you, I must have some better gar- 
 ments, or I shall die of mortification." 
 
 " Don't be excited," said the Crow soothingly. 
 " I have been thinking the matter over, and I be- 
 lieve I can do something. Listen. Yesterday I 
 found brushes and a box of colors in a room of 
 the King's palace. They belonged to the Court 
 Painter. Now they belong to me, for I have hid- 
 den them away in a hollow tree where no one else 
 can find them. I thought they might be useful, 
 and I think so still." 
 
 " Well, well ! What do you propose to do 
 with paints and brushes?" cried the Peacock's 
 cousin impatiently. 
 
 " I propose to paint you, to varnish you, to gild 
 you," patiently answered the Crow. 
 
 " Oh, you dear Crow ! " exclaimed the other, 
 clapping his wings. " You will make me brilliant 
 and beautiful ! You will make me worthy of the 
 
 54 
 
THE PEACOCK'S COUSIN 
 
 Peacock, will you not *? How clever of you to 
 think of such a thing ! " 
 
 " Yes," replied the Crow ; " I watched the Court 
 Painter at work in the garden one day, and I know 
 how it is done. I will make you as gorgeous as 
 you wish. But you must return the compliment. 
 If you are to be an ornament of fashion, so must 
 I be; for are we not inseparable cronies? And 
 when you become beautiful it would not do for 
 you to be seen with such a dowdy as I am." 
 
 " You dear creature ! " said the Peacock's cousin 
 affectionately ; " of course we will share alike. I 
 will paint you as soon as I see how you succeed 
 with me. Ah, I know your skill in everything. 
 You will be a fine artist, my friend ! But come, 
 let us get to work at once." 
 
 So the flattered Crow led him to the hollow 
 tree where he had concealed the brushes and the 
 gilding and the India ink, and all the gorgeous 
 changeable tints which an Eastern artist uses in his 
 paintings. " Here we are," said the Crow. " Now 
 let us see what we shall see, when Master Crow 
 turns painter." 
 
 The Crow set to work with a will, splashing on 
 the colors generously, gold and green and bronze 
 iridescence. He had the Peacock in mind, and 
 though he did not exactly copy the plumage of 
 
 55 
 
THE CURIOUS BOOK OF BIRDS 
 
 that wonderful bird, he managed to suggest the 
 cousinship of the Pheasant in the golden eyes of 
 his long and beautiful tail. When he had finished, 
 the Crow was delighted with his work. 
 
 " Ah ! " he cried. " Now bend over this fountain, 
 my dear friend, and observe yourself. I think you 
 do credit to my skill as an artist, eh ? " 
 
 The Peacock's cousin hurried down to the water- 
 pool, all in a flutter of excitement. And when he 
 saw his image he cried, " How beautiful, how 
 truly beautiful, I am ! Why, I am quite as hand- 
 some as Peacock himself. Surely, now he need 
 not be ashamed to call me cousin. I shall move 
 in the most fashionable circles. Heavens ! Look 
 at my lovely tail ! Look at my burnished feathers ! 
 I must go immediately and show my new dress 
 to Cousin Peacock. I should not be surprised if 
 he became jealous of my gorgeousness." And off 
 he started as fast as he could go. 
 
 " Hold on ! " cried the Crow. " Don't run away 
 so quickly. You have forgotten something. Don't 
 you remember that you promised to paint me 
 beautiful like yourself?" 
 
 "Oh, bother!" answered the ungrateful friend, 
 tossing his head. " I have no time now for such 
 business. I must hasten to my cousin, for this is a 
 matter of family pride. Run along like a good 
 
 56 
 
THE PEACOCK'S COUSIN 
 
 creature ; and by the way, you may as well gather 
 the feathers which Peacock mentioned. I am sure 
 they will make you look quite respectable. Be- 
 sides, I will give you some of mine when I have 
 worn them a little. Ta-ta!" And he stepped 
 airily away. 
 
 But the Crow strode after him, shaking his 
 wings and crying, " Come back, come back and 
 perform your part of the bargain, you selfish, un- 
 grateful creature ! " And he caught the Pheasant 
 by one of his long tail-feathers. 
 
 " Let go my train, impertinent wretch ! " shrieked 
 the Peacock's cousin, turning upon him fiercely. 
 "I tell you I have no time to spend in such 
 nonsense. I must be presenting myself in high 
 society." 
 
 "Villain!" croaked the Crow, and he rushed 
 forward fiercely, intending to tear out the beautiful 
 feathers which he had painted for his ungrateful 
 friend. Thereupon the Pheasant exclaimed, 
 
 " You want to be painted, do you ? Well, 
 take that I " and, seizing the bottle of India ink 
 which was in the Eastern artist's paint-box, he 
 hurled it at the poor Crow, deluging with black- 
 ness his spotless feathers. Then laughing harshly, 
 away he flew to his cousin the Peacock, who re- 
 ceived him with proud affection, because they 
 
 57 
 
THE CURIOUS BOOK OF BIRDS 
 
 were now really birds of a feather. For the Pea- 
 cock's cousin was become one of the most beau- 
 tiful birds in the world. 
 
 But the poor Crow was now a sombre, black 
 bird, wearing the seedy-looking, inky coat which 
 we know so well to-day. His heart was broken 
 by his friend's faithlessness, and he became a sour 
 cynic who can see no good in anything. He 
 flies about crying " Caw ! Caw ! " in the most 
 disagreeable, sarcastic tone, as if sneering at the 
 mean action of that Malay bird, which he can 
 never forget. 
 
II . * ..-. .. 
 
 THE MASQUERADING CROW 
 
 >" 
 
 'HE Crow became very sour and dis- 
 agreeable after his friend the Peacock's 
 cousin deserted him for more gorgeous 
 company. Though he pretended not 
 to care because the Pheasant was now a proud, 
 beautifully-coated dandy, while he was the shab- 
 biest of all the birds in his coat of rusty black, yet 
 in truth he did care very much. He could not for- 
 get how the Peacock's cousin had dyed him this 
 sombre hue, after promising to paint him bright 
 and wonderful, like himself. He could not help 
 thinking how fine he would have looked in simi- 
 lar plumage of a rainbow tint, or how becoming a 
 long swallow-tail would be to his style of beauty. 
 He wished that there was a tailor in Birdland to 
 whom he could go for a new suit of clothes. But 
 alas ! There seemed no way but for him to remain 
 ugly old Crow to the end of the chapter. 
 
 The Crow went moping about most unhappily 
 while this was preying on his mind, until he really 
 became somewhat crazy upon the subject. The 
 only thing about which he could think was clothes 
 
 59 
 
THE CURIOUS BOOK OF BIRDS 
 
 clothes clothes ; and that is indeed a foolish 
 matter to absorb one's mind. One word of the 
 Peacock's cousin remained in his memory and re- 
 fused to be forgotten. He had advised the Crow 
 to gather up the feathers which had fallen from the 
 Peacock's plumage and to make himself fine with 
 them. First the Crow remembered these words 
 sadly, because they showed the unkind heart of his 
 old friend. Next he remembered them with scorn, 
 because they showed vanity. Then he remembered 
 them with interest because they gave him an idea. 
 And that idea gradually grew bigger and bigger 
 until it became a plan. 
 
 The plan came to him completely one day while 
 he was sitting moodily on a tree watching the Pea- 
 cock and his cousin sweeping proudly over the 
 velvet lawn of the King's garden. For nowadays 
 the Pheasant moved in the most courtly circles, 
 as he had promised himself. As they passed under 
 the Crow two beautiful feathers fell behind them 
 and lay on the grass shining in the sunlight with 
 a hundred colors. 
 
 " Once more the cast-off plumage of the Peacock 
 family is left for me ! " croaked the Crow to him- 
 self. " Am I only to be made beautiful by borrow- 
 ing from others *? Perhaps I might collect feathers 
 enough from all the birds to conceal my inky coat 
 
 60 
 
THE MASQUERADING CROW 
 
 Aha ! I have it." And this was the plan of the 
 Crow. He would steal from every dweller in Bird- 
 land a feather, and see whether he could not make 
 himself more beautiful than the Peacock's cousin 
 himself. 
 
 Now the Crow was a skilful thief. He could 
 steal the silver off the King's table from under 
 the steward's very nose. He could steal a maid's 
 thimble from her finger as she nodded sleepily 
 over her work. He could steal the pen from be- 
 hind a scribe's ear, as he paused to scratch his head 
 and think over the spelling of a word. So tfie 
 Crow felt sure that he could steal their feathers 
 from the birds without any trouble. 
 
 When the Peacock and his cousin had passed 
 by, the Crow swooped down and carried off the 
 two feathers which were to begin his collection. 
 He hid them in his treasure-house in the hollow 
 tree, and started out for more. 
 
 It was great fun for the Crow, and he almost 
 forgot to be miserable. He followed old lady 
 Ostrich about for some time before he dared tweak 
 a handful of feathers from her tail. But finally he 
 succeeded ; and though she squawked horribly and 
 turned, quick as a flash, she was not quick enough 
 to catch the nimble thief, who was already hidden 
 under a bush. In the same way he secured some 
 
 61 
 
THE CURIOUS BOOK OF BIRDS 
 
 lovely plumes from the Bird of Paradise, the Par- 
 rot, and the Cock. He robbed the Redbreast of 
 his ruddy vest, the Hoopoe of his crown, and he 
 secured a swallow-tail which he had long coveted. 
 He took some rosy-redness from the Flamingo, the 
 gilding of the Goldfinch, the gray down of an 
 Eider-Duck. He burgled the Bluebird and the 
 Redbird and the Yellowbird; and not one single 
 feathered creature escaped his clever beak. At last 
 his hole in the tree was brimming with feathers 
 of every color, length, and degree of softness, a 
 gorgeous feather-bed on which it would dazzle 
 one to sleep. 
 
 Then the Crow set to work to make himself a 
 coat of many colors, like Joseph's. He was a very 
 clever bird, and a wondrous coat it turned out to 
 be. It had no particular cut nor style ; it was not 
 like the coat which any bird had ever before worn. 
 The feathers were placed in any fashion that hap- 
 pened to please his original fancy. Some pointed 
 up and some down; some were straight and some 
 were curled; some drooped about his feet and 
 others curved gracefully over his head ; some trailed 
 far behind. He was completely covered from top 
 to toe, so that not one blot of his own inky feath- 
 ers showed through the gorgeousness. A red vest 
 he wore, and a swallow-tail, of course, and there 
 
 62 
 
THE MASQUERADING CROW 
 
 was a crown of feathers on his head. Never was 
 there seen a more extraordinary bird nor one more 
 gaudy. Perhaps he was not in the best of taste, 
 but at least he was striking. 
 
 When all was finished the Crow went and looked 
 at himself in the fountain mirror; and he was much 
 pleased. 
 
 " Well now ! " he cried. " How am I for a bird ? 
 I believe no one will know me, and that is just as 
 well ; for now I am so fine that I shall myself re- 
 fuse to know any one. Ho ! This ought to give 
 some ideas to that conceited Peacock family ! I 
 am a self-made man. I am an artist who knows 
 how to adapt his materials. I am a genius. King 
 Solomon himself will wonder at my glory. And 
 as for the Eagle, King of the Birds, he will grow 
 pale with envy. King of the Birds, indeed ! It is 
 now I who should rightfully be King. No other 
 ever wore clothes so fine as mine. By right of them 
 I ought to be King of the Birds. I will be King 
 of the Birds!" 
 
 You see the poor old Crow was quite crazy with 
 his one idea. 
 
 Forth he stalked into Birdland to show his gor- 
 geous plumage and to get himself elected King of 
 the Birds. The first persons he met were the Pea- 
 cock and his cousin, he who was once the Crow's 
 
 63 
 
THE CURIOUS BOOK OF BIRDS 
 
 best friend. The Crow ruffled himself his prettiest 
 when he saw them coming. 
 
 " Good gracious ! Who is that extraordinary 
 fowl ? " drawled the Peacock. " He must be some 
 great noble from a far country." 
 
 " How beautiful ! " murmured his silly cousin. 
 "How odd! How fascinating! How distin- 
 guished ! I wish the Crow had painted me like 
 that ! " The Crow heard these words and swelled 
 with pride, casting a scornful glance at his old 
 friend as he swept by. 
 
 Next he met a little Sparrow who was picking 
 bugs from the grass. " Out of my way, Birdling ! " 
 cried the Crow haughtily. " I am the King." 
 
 "The King!" gasped the Sparrow, nearly 
 choking over a fat bug, he was so surprised. " I 
 did not know that the King wore such a robe. 
 How gorgeous but how queer ! " 
 
 Next the Crow met Mr. Stork, standing gravely 
 on one leg and thinking of the little baby which 
 he was going to bring that night to the cottage by 
 the lake. The Stork looked up in surprise as the 
 wonderful stranger approached. 
 
 " Bless me ! " he exclaimed, " whom have we 
 here ? I thought I knew all Birdland, but I never 
 before saw such a freak as this !" 
 
 "I am the King. I am to be the new King," 
 64 
 
Bless me ! " he exclaimed, " whom have we here? >s 
 
THE MASQUERADING CROW 
 
 announced the Crow. "Is there any bird more 
 gorgeous than I ? " 
 
 "Truly, I hope not," said the Stork gravely. 
 " Yet the Woodcock is a very foolish bird. One 
 never knows what he will do next. If he should 
 try to be fashionable " 
 
 But the Crow had passed on without listening 
 to the Stork's sarcasm. 
 
 As he went through Birdland he drew behind 
 him a following of feathered citizens, chattering, 
 screaming, tittering all together like the crowd 
 after a circus procession. All the birds, big and 
 little, plain and pretty, flocked to see this wonder- 
 ful stranger who because of his fine clothes was 
 coming to have himself named King. Some of 
 them thought him truly beautiful, some thought 
 him ridiculous; some envied him, some jeered. 
 But they all stared ; and the more they stared the 
 more conceited became the Crow, the more sure 
 that the kingdom was to be his. 
 
 At last they came into the presence of the Eagle 
 himself. That royal bird was perched upon his 
 eyrie far up on the cliff. Below him gathered the 
 dense flock of birds, waiting to see what would 
 happen when the Crow demanded to be made 
 King in the Eagle's place. The Eagle had been 
 warned of the matter by the little Humming-Bird, 
 
 65 
 
THE CURIOUS BOOK OF BIRDS 
 
 and was looking very majestic and scornful. But 
 the Swallow flew round and round in great circles, 
 twittering excitedly, and in each circle sweeping 
 nearer and nearer to the ground. The Swallow 
 was angry because some one had stolen his beau- 
 tiful swallow-tail. 
 
 Presently the Crow swaggered forth, and cock- 
 ing his impertinent eye towards the Eagle he 
 croaked, 
 
 " Hello there, Old High-perch ! Give me your 
 crown and sceptre, for I am King of the Birds, 
 not you. Look at my gorgeous clothes ; look at 
 your own dull plumage. Am I not kingly^ 
 look at me." 
 
 The King made no reply, merely gazing sternly 
 at the Crow. But the Swallow took up the word. 
 
 " Look at him, look at him indeed, O King ! " 
 he screamed. " There is something strange about 
 his kingly plumage. That swallow-tail is mine, I 
 know it ! " And with a vicious tweak the Swallow 
 pulled out the long forked feathers of which the 
 Crow was especially proud. Oh, what a shriek of 
 rage the mad old bird gave ! At that moment the 
 Hoopoe came up and said, " Ha ! Methinks I too 
 recognize my property. This is my crown," and 
 forthwith he snatched the plumes from the Crow's 
 forehead, leaving it quite ugly and bare. Next the 
 
 66 
 
THE MASQUERADING CROW 
 
 gentle Redbreast claimed his vest, and the Blue- 
 bird her azure feathers, and the Ostrich her train 
 which she had sorely missed. Each of the birds 
 in turn came up and with much chattering and 
 scolding twitched away the property of which he 
 or she had been robbed, until the Crow stood be- 
 fore them in his customary suit of solemn black, 
 a bird ashamed and sore. For they had pecked 
 him with their bills and beaten him with their 
 wings and scratched him with their claws until 
 even his own plain old coat was frayed and rent. 
 
 " Oh ho, oh ho ! It is only old Daddy Crow, 
 after all ! " screamed the birds in chorus. And 
 then, because the Eagle burst out laughing, they 
 saw that it was really funny. Since the King did 
 not mind being robbed for a time of his title, 
 surely they need not mourn over the few feathers 
 which the thief had borrowed, especially since each 
 now had his own. Chattering with glee they all 
 flew home to their various nests, leaving the Crow 
 alone with his shame and soreness. 
 
 Just at this moment the Peacock and his cousin 
 came hurrying up out of breath. 
 
 " Oh, what is it *? What is the matter *? What 
 was all that noise just now *? " asked the Peacock. 
 
 " Oh, what has become of the beautiful, noble, 
 splendid, remarkable, graceful, gorgeous, stylish, 
 
 67 
 
THE CURIOUS BOOK OF BIRDS 
 
 long-tailed, kingly stranger 1 ?" questioned the 
 Peacock's cousin, speaking affably to the Crow, 
 for the first time since his adoption into high 
 society. 
 
 The Crow looked at him sideways, and all his 
 madness went away as he saw how very, very 
 silly this creature was. 
 
 " He was a fool in fools' feathers," he croaked. 
 " He is no more. But before the end he bade me 
 return these to you, saying, ' Fine feathers do not 
 make fine birds/ " Speaking thus, he presented to 
 the pair their two long feathers with which he had 
 started his collection and which were the only 
 ones now remaining to the masquerading Crow. 
 
 Then with a harsh Caw ! he flew away to his 
 tree. He is not a happy bird, but since that time 
 he has never been so mad as to think that clothes 
 are the chief thing in the world. 
 
 68 
 
KING SOLOMON AND THE BIRDS 
 
 ING SOLOMON was wiser than all 
 men, and his fame was in all nations 
 round about Jerusalem. He was so 
 wise that he knew every spoken lan- 
 guage; yes" but more than this, he could talk with 
 everything that lived, trees and flowers, beasts and 
 fowls, creeping things and fishes. What a very 
 pleasant thing that was for Solomon, to be sure ! 
 And how glad one would be nowadays to have 
 such knowledge ! 
 
 Solomon was especially fond of birds, and loved 
 to talk with them because their voices were so 
 sweet and they spoke such beautiful words. One 
 day the wise King was chatting pleasantly with 
 the birds who lived in his wonderful garden, and 
 these are some of the things which he heard them 
 say. The Nightingale, the sweetest singer of all, 
 chanted, 
 
 " Contentment is the greatest happiness." 
 " It would be better for most people never to 
 have been born," crooned the melancholy Turtle- 
 Dove. 
 
 69 
 
THE CURIOUS BOOK OF BIRDS 
 
 The happy little Swallow gave her opinion, 
 " Do good and you will be rewarded hereafter." 
 
 The harsh cry of the Peacock meant, "As 
 thou judgest so shalt thou be judged." 
 
 The Hoopoe said, " He who has no pity for 
 others will find none for himself." 
 
 The cynical old Crow croaked disagreeably, 
 " The further away from men I am, the better I 
 am pleased." 
 
 Last of all the Cock who sings in the morning 
 chanted his joyous song, " Think of your Crea- 
 tor, O foolish creatures ! " 
 
 When they had finished talking King Solomon 
 softly stroked the head of the pretty little Dove 
 and bade her cheer up, for life was not so dreadful 
 a thing, after all. And he gave her permission to 
 build her nest under the walls of the great Tem- 
 ple which he was building, the most beautiful, 
 golden house in the whole world. Some years 
 afterward the Doves had so increased in numbers 
 that with their extended wings they formed a veil 
 over the numberless pilgrims who came to Jeru- 
 salem to visit the wonderful Temple. 
 
 But of all the winged singers who spoke that day 
 in the garden, the wise King chose to have ever 
 near him the Cock, because he had spoken words 
 of piety, and the nimble Hoopoe, because he was 
 
 70 
 
KING SOLOMON AND THE BIRDS 
 
 able to plunge his clear gaze into the depths of 
 the earth as if it were made of transparent glass 
 and discover the places where springs of living 
 water were hidden under the soil. It was very 
 convenient for Solomon, when he was traveling, 
 to have some one with him who was able to find 
 water in whatsoever place he might be resting. 
 
 Thus the Cock and the Hoopoe became Solo- 
 mon's closest companions; but of the two the 
 Hoopoe was his favorite. The Hoopoe is an 
 Eastern bird and we do not see him in America. 
 He is about as big as a Jay, colored a beautiful 
 reddish gray, with feathers of purple, brown, and 
 white, and his black wings are banded with white. 
 But the peculiar thing about a Hoopoe is his 
 crown of tawny feathers, a tall crown for so small 
 a bird. And this is the story of the Hoopoe's 
 crown. 
 
 One day when Solomon was journeying across 
 the desert, he was sorely distressed by the heat of 
 the sun, until he came near to fainting. Just then 
 he spied a flock of his friends the Hoopoes flying 
 past, and calling to them feebly he begged them 
 to shelter htm from the burning rays. 
 
 The King of the Hoopoes gathered together 
 his whole nation and caused them to fly in a thick 
 
THE CURIOUS BOOK OF BIRDS 
 
 cloud over the head of Solomon while he con- 
 tinued his journey. In gratitude the wise King 
 offered to give his feathered friends whatever re- 
 ward they might ask. 
 
 For a whole day the Hoopoes talked the matter 
 over among themselves, then their King came to 
 Solomon and said to him, 
 
 " We have considered your offer, O generous 
 King, and we have decided that what we most 
 desire is to have, each of us, a golden crown on 
 his head." 
 
 King Solomon smiled and answered, " Crowns 
 of gold shall you have. But you are foolish birds, 
 my Hoopoes ; and when the evil days shall come 
 upon you and you see the folly of your desire, re- 
 turn here to me and I will help you yet again." 
 
 So the King of the Hoopoes left King Solomon 
 with a beautiful golden crown upon his head. 
 And soon all the Hoopoes were wearing golden 
 crowns. Thereupon they grew very proud and 
 haughty. They went down by the lakes and 
 pools and strutted there that they might admire 
 themselves in the water mirrors. And the Queen 
 of the Hoopoes became very airy, and refused to 
 speak to her own cousin and to the other birds 
 who had once been her friends. 
 
 There was a certain fowler who used to set 
 72 
 
KING SOLOMON AND THE BIRDS 
 
 traps for birds. He put a piece of broken mir- 
 ror into his trap, and a Hoopoe spying it went in 
 to admire herself, and was caught. The fowler 
 looked at the shining crown upon her head and 
 said, " What have we here ! I never saw a crown 
 like this upon any bird. I must ask about this." 
 
 So he took the crown to Issachar, the worker in 
 metal, and asked him what it was. Issachar ex- 
 amined it carefully, and his eyes stuck out of his 
 head. But he said carelessly, " It is a crown of 
 brass, my friend. I will give you a quarter of a 
 shekel for it; and if you find any more bring 
 them to me. But be sure to tell no other man of 
 the matter." (A shekel was about sixty-two 
 cents.) 
 
 After this the fowler caught many Hoopoes in 
 the same way, and sold their crowns to Issachar. 
 But one day as he was on his way to the metal- 
 worker's shop he met a jeweler, and to him he 
 showed one of the Hoopoes' crowns. 
 
 " What is this, and where did you find it ? " ex- 
 claimed the jeweler. " It is pure gold. I will give 
 you a golden talent for every four you bring me." 
 (A talent was worth three hundred shekels.) 
 
 Now when the value of the Hoopoes' crowns 
 was known, every one turned fowler and began 
 to hunt the precious birds. In all the land of 
 
 73 
 
THE CURIOUS BOOK OF BIRDS 
 
 Israel was heard the twang of bows and the whirl- 
 ing of slings. Bird lime was made in every town, 
 and the price of traps rose in the market so that 
 the trap-makers became rich men. Not a Hoopoe 
 could show his unlucky head without being slain 
 or taken captive, and the days of the Hoopoes 
 were numbered. It seemed that soon there would 
 be no more Hoopoes left to bewail their sad fate. 
 
 At last the few who still lived gathered to- 
 gether and held a meeting to consider what should . 
 be done, for their minds were filled with sorrow 
 and dismay. And they decided to appeal once 
 more to King Solomon, who had granted their 
 foolish prayer. 
 
 Flying by stealth through the loneliest ways, 
 the unhappy King of the Hoopoes came at last 
 to the court of the King, and stood once more 
 before the steps of his golden throne. With tears 
 and groans he related the sad fortune which had 
 befallen his golden-crowned race. 
 
 King Solomon looked kindly upon the King 
 of the Hoopoes and said, "Behold, did I not 
 warn you of your folly in desiring to have crowns 
 of gold ? Vanity and pride have been your ruin. 
 But now, that there may be a memorial of the 
 service which once you did me, your crowns of 
 gold shall be changed into crowns of feathers, and 
 
 74 
 
KING SOLOMON AND THE BIRDS 
 
 with them you may walk unharmed upon the 
 earth." 
 
 In this way the remaining Hoopoes were saved. 
 For when the fowlers saw that they no longer 
 wore crowns of gold upon their heads, they ceased 
 to hunt them as they had been doing. And from 
 that time forth the family of the Hoopoes have 
 flourished and increased in peace, even to the 
 present day. 
 
 Solomon was ever seeking to grow even wiser. 
 The better to know the wonders of God's world 
 and the ways of all creatures, he undertook many 
 journeys, not as we ordinary poor mortals travel, 
 in heavy wagons or clumsy boats, by dusty roads 
 or stormy waves. It was in no such troublous 
 ways that Solomon the all-powerful traversed space 
 and reached the uttermost corners of the earth. 
 Thanks to his great knowledge, he had discovered 
 a means of locomotion compared to which the 
 most magnificent railway coaches and the richest 
 palanquins of Indian princes would seem poor in- 
 deed. He had caused his Genii to make a silken 
 carpet of four leagues in extent. In the midst of 
 this carpet was placed a magnificent throne for the 
 royal traveler himself; and around it were seats 
 of gold, of silver, of wood, for the multitude of 
 
 75 
 
THE CURIOUS BOOK OF BIRDS 
 
 persons of different rank whom he took with him. 
 There was also no lack of the most gorgeous fur- 
 niture and the necessary provisions for a king's 
 traveling banquet. 
 
 When all was ready Solomon was wont to seat 
 himself upon his throne, and would command the 
 winds to do their duty. Immediately they gently 
 lifted the carpet and bore it rapidly through the 
 air to the appointed spot. During the journey, 
 above the aerial caravan fluttered a cloud of birds, 
 who with their wings formed a splendid canopy 
 to shield their beloved lord from the sun's heat, as 
 the Hoopoes had first done. 
 
 One day, while on such a journey, Solomon was 
 shocked to feel a ray of sunlight piercing through 
 this plumy dais which overhung his head. Shading 
 his eyes, the King glanced up and perceived that 
 there was an opening in the canopy. One bird 
 was missing from its post. In great displeasure 
 Solomon demanded of the Eagle the name of the 
 truant. Anxiously the Eagle called the roll of all 
 the birds in his company ; and he was horrified to 
 find that it was Solomon's favorite, the Hoopoe, 
 who was missing. With terror he announced the 
 bird's desertion to the most wise King. 
 
 "Soar aloft," commanded Solomon sternly, 
 " and find the Hoopoe that I may punish him. 
 
 76 
 
KING SOLOMON AND THE BIRDS 
 
 I will pluck off his feathers that he may feel the 
 scorching heat of the sun as his carelessness has 
 caused me to do." 
 
 The Eagle soared heavenward, until the earth 
 beneath him looked like a bowl turned upside 
 down. Then he poised on level wings and looked 
 around in every direction to discover the truant. 
 Soon he espied the Hoopoe flying swiftly from 
 the south. The Eagle swooped down and would 
 have seized the culprit roughly in his strong 
 talons, but the Hoopoe begged him for Solo- 
 mon's sake to be gentle. 
 
 "For Solomon's sake!" cried the Eagle. "Do 
 you dare to name the King whom you have in- 
 jured? He has discovered your absence and in 
 his righteous anger will punish you severely." 
 
 " Lead me to him," replied the Hoopoe. " I 
 know that he will forgive me when he hears where 
 I have been and what I have to tell him." 
 
 The Eagle led him to the King, who with 
 a wrathful face was sitting on his throne. The 
 Hoopoe trembled and drooped his feathers hum- 
 bly, but when Solomon would have crushed him 
 in his mighty fist the bird cried, 
 
 " Remember, King, that one day you also must 
 give an account of your sins. Let me not there- 
 fore be condemned unheard." 
 
 77 
 
THE CURIOUS BOOK OF BIRDS 
 
 " And if I hear you, what excuse can you have 
 to offer ? " answered Solomon, frowning. But this 
 was his favorite bird and he hoped that there 
 might be some reason for sparing him. 
 
 " Well," said the Hoopoe, " at Mecca I met a 
 Hoopoe of my acquaintance who told me so 
 wonderful a tale of the marvelous Kingdom of 
 Sheba in Arabia that I could not resist the temp-, 
 tation to visit that country of gold and precious 
 stones. And there, indeed, I saw the most prodi- 
 gious treasures; but best of all, O King, more 
 glorious than gold, more precious than rare jewels, 
 I saw Queen Balkis, the most beautiful of queens." 
 
 " Tell me of this Queen," said Solomon, loosen- 
 ing his rough grasp upon the Hoopoe. So it was, 
 say the Mussulmans, that a bird told Solomon of 
 the great Queen whose journey to Jerusalem is 
 described in the Bible. 
 
 The Hoopoe told of her power and glory, her 
 riches, her wisdom, and her beauty, until Solomon 
 sighed a great sigh and said, "It seems too good 
 to be true ! But we shall see." 
 
 So the King wrote a letter to Balkis, bidding 
 her follow the guidance of fate and come to the 
 court of the wise King. This note he sealed with 
 musk, stamped with his great signet, and gave to 
 the Hoopoe, saying, 
 
KING SOLOMON AND THE BIRDS 
 
 " If now you have spoken truth, take this letter 
 to Queen Balkis ; then come away." 
 
 The Hoopoe did as he was bid, darting off to- 
 wards the south like an arrow. And the next day 
 he came to the palace of the Queen of Sheba, 
 where she sat in all her splendor among her coun- 
 selors. He hopped into the hall and dropped the 
 letter into her lap, then flew away. 
 
 Queen Balkis stared and stared at the great 
 King's seal upon the mysterious letter, and when 
 she had read the brief invitation she stared and 
 stared again. But she had heard the fame of Solo- 
 mon and was eager to ask him some of her clever 
 questions to prove his wisdom. So she decided to 
 accept his invitation and come to Jerusalem. 
 
 She came with a great train of attendants, with 
 camels that bore spices and treasures of gold and 
 precious stones, gifts for the most wise King. And 
 she asked him more questions than any woman 
 had ever asked him before, though he knew a great 
 many ladies, and they were all inquisitive. 
 
 But Solomon was so wise that he answered all 
 her questions without any trouble. 
 
 And she said to him, " It was a true report that 
 I heard of you in my own land, of your wisdom 
 and of your glory. Only that which now I know 
 and see is greater than what I heard. Happy are 
 
 79 
 
THE CURIOUS BOOK OF BIRDS 
 
 thy men and happy are thy servants who stand 
 continually before thee and hear thy wisdom." 
 
 And she gave the King a hundred and twenty 
 talents of gold, which was a very rich treasure, be- 
 sides great store of spices, and the most precious 
 gifts ; no one had ever seen such gifts as the Queen 
 of Sheba gave to Solomon. 
 
 But he in turn was even more generous. For he 
 gave to the fair Balkis all that she desired and 
 everything she asked, because he admired so much 
 this splendid Queen of whom the Hoopoe had first 
 told him. 
 
 And so, the Bible says, the Queen of Sheba 
 turned and went to her own country, she and her 
 servants. But the Mussulmans' tales say that in 
 later days she married Solomon and they lived 
 happily ever after. And it was all the work of that 
 little Hoopoe with a yellow crown, whom after 
 that we may be sure Solomon loved better than 
 ever. 
 
 So 
 
THE PIOUS ROBIN 
 
 Art thou the bird whom man loves best, 
 The pious bird with the scarlet breast, 
 Our little English Robin ? " 
 
 WORDSWORTH. 
 
 iHE English Robin is not precisely like 
 our little American friend whom we 
 call by that name, although, as the 
 lines of poetry quoted above will 
 show, in two ways he is the same as ours : he has 
 a red breast, and he is the bird whom every one 
 loves. Of all the little brothers of the air, in every 
 land and clime, the pretty, jolly, neighborly Robin 
 Redbreast is the favorite. 
 
 There are many stories about him : some which 
 tell how he came by his scarlet breast, others which 
 explain why he has always been best beloved of 
 the birds. I have already told how he helped the 
 Wren to bring fire to men. Every one knows how 
 tenderly he covered with leaves the poor Babes in 
 the Wood, when they had been deserted even by 
 their nearest of kin. Some have heard about Saint 
 Kentigern, and how he restored to life the pious 
 
 81 
 
THE CURIOUS BOOK OF BIRDS 
 
 Robin of his master Servan, the dear little bird 
 who used to sing psalms every morning in the 
 Saint's company. Some also know about the Robin 
 who brought the wheat-ear in his bill to the poor 
 brothers in Brittany who had no grain to plant for 
 their future harvest. All these tales show the 
 Robin's generous heart, cheerful nature, and pious 
 devotion, which make him beloved by men. But 
 perhaps you do not know why he is called God's 
 own bird. 
 
 " The Robin and the Wren 
 Are God's cock and hen," 
 
 sing the little English children, and they think it 
 is very wicked to injure one of the holy birds or 
 make her unhappy by robbing her nest of its 
 pretty eggs. 
 
 This is why the Robin is called the good bird, 
 God's bird. The oldest stories say that the little 
 Christ-child used to feed most tenderly the Robins 
 who hopped about the door of His mother's house, 
 for they were dearest of all to His baby heart. Per- 
 haps He thus early learned to love them because 
 His mother had told Him of the service which 
 the dear little birds had once performed for her. 
 
 For it is said that once upon a time, when 
 Mary was a little girl, as she was going along the 
 gusty road a bit of straw blew into her eye and 
 
 82 
 
THE PIOUS ROBIN 
 
 pained her terribly. She sat down upon a stone 
 and began to cry. Now a Robin was sitting on 
 a branch close by, singing with all the power of 
 his little throat when the maiden passed, for she 
 was very sweet to see and the Robin loved her 
 looks. But when he saw the blessed Mary begin 
 to cry and rub her eye with her chubby hand, he 
 stopped his gay song and became very sad, won- 
 dering what he could do to help her. 
 
 What he did was to fly away and tell his friend 
 the Swallow all about it, asking her aid. After 
 that he fluttered to a little fountain which bubbled 
 up close by and brought thence in his bill a drop 
 of water. Then, perching on Mary's forehead, he 
 gently dropped this into the suffering eye. At the 
 same time the Swallow softly brushed her long 
 tail-feathers under the maiden's eyelid, and the 
 hateful straw was wiped away. Thus the little 
 Mary was relieved, and when once more she could 
 look up happily with her pretty eyes she smiled 
 upon the two kind birds and blessed them for 
 their aid. 
 
 Of course, if the little Christ heard His mother 
 tell this pretty story He would have been sure to 
 love the Robin, just as she did. And so these lit- 
 tle birds became His boyhood friends. 
 
 Those were happy times. But in the after years, 
 
 83 
 
THE CURIOUS BOOK OF BIRDS 
 
 in the dreadful day when the Saviour was so 
 cruelly done to death by His enemies, the little 
 Robin once more proved his generous and pious 
 heart, so the legends say. 
 
 The Saviour hung upon the cross, suffering and 
 sad, while the world was veiled with darkness and 
 all good creatures mourned. Two birds perched 
 upon the cross beside His weary, drooping head. 
 One was the faithful Robin, who was then a plain 
 and dark-colored bird with the scorched feathers of 
 a fire-bringer upon his breast. The other was the 
 Magpie, who at that time was among the most 
 gorgeous and beautiful of all the birds. She had a 
 tuft of bright feathers on her head, and her plum- 
 age outshone even that of the Peacock, who has 
 the hundred gleaming eyes of Argus set in his 
 fan-like tail. But the Magpie, in spite of her 
 beauty, was at heart a wicked bird. Think of it ! 
 She mocked the dying Saviour in His agony 
 and seemed to rejoice in His suffering! 
 
 But the Robin fluttered about the holy figure, 
 timidly uttering chirps of sorrow and longing to 
 help the Master who had fed him tenderly for so 
 many years. With his soft wings he wiped away 
 the tears which flowed from the Lord's eyes, while 
 with his beak he tugged at the cruel thorns which 
 pierced His brow, trying to relieve Him. 
 
 84 
 
THE PIOUS ROBIN 
 
 Suddenly a drop of blood fell from Christ's 
 forehead upon the Robin's breast and tinged with 
 bright crimson the rusty reddish feathers. 
 
 " Blessed be thou," said the Lord, " thou sharer 
 of my suffering. Wherever thou goest happiness 
 and joy shall follow thee. Blue as the heaven shall 
 be thy eggs, and from henceforth thou shalt be 
 the Bird of God, the bearer of good tidings. But 
 thou," He added, addressing the Magpie sorrow- 
 fully, "thou art accursed. No longer shall the 
 brilliant tuft and bright feathers of which thou art 
 so proud and so unworthy adorn thee. Thy color 
 shall be the streaked black and white of shadows, 
 thy life a hard one. And thy nest, however well 
 builded, shall be open to the storm." 
 
 These were almost the last words which the Sa- 
 viour spoke. After that, when the Lord was laid in 
 the sepulchre, the faithful Robin still watched be- 
 side Him for those three dread days until He rose 
 on Easter morning, when the little bird rejoiced 
 with all nature at the wondrous happening. And 
 again on Ascension Day he paid his last tribute to 
 the risen Master, joining his little song with the 
 chorus of the angels themselves in the gladdest 
 Hosanna which the universe had ever heard. 
 
 This explains how the Magpie became a rest- 
 less, noisy, black-and-white bird as we know her 
 
 85 
 
THE CURIOUS BOOK OF BIRDS 
 
 to this day, having lost all her brilliant beauty 
 through the wickedness of her heart. But the 
 pious Robin still wears upon his breast the beau- 
 tiful feathers stained red with his Master's blood. 
 And all that the Saviour foretold of him has come 
 true. He is the blessed bird whom children every- 
 where love and of whom they still repeat these 
 old verses : 
 
 " The Robin and the Redbreast, 
 
 The Robin and the Wren, 
 If ye take out of the nest 
 
 Ye '11 never thrive again. 
 The Robin and the Redbreast, 
 
 The Martin and the Swallow, 
 If ye touch one of their eggs 
 
 Bad luck is sure to follow." 
 
 86 
 
THE ROBIN WHO WAS AN INDIAN 
 
 name of Robin makes us think at 
 once of the j oiliest and most sociable 
 of all our little brother birds. In every 
 land the name is a favorite, and wher- 
 ever he goes he brings happiness and kind feeling. 
 The American Robin is not the same bird as 
 his English cousin, though both have red breasts. 
 It was in a different manner that our little 
 American friend came to have the ruddy waist- 
 coat which we know so well. 
 
 There was a time, so the Indians say, a very 
 early time, long, long before Columbus discovered 
 America, even before histories began to be writ- 
 ten, when there were no Robins. 
 
 In those days in the land of the Ojibways, which 
 is far in the north of the cold country, there lived 
 an old Indian chief who had one son, named la- 
 dilla. Now among the Ojibways, when a boy was 
 almost big enough to become a warrior, before he 
 could go out with the other braves to the hunt 
 or to war, there was a great trial which he must 
 undergo. Other lands and peoples have known 
 
 87 
 
THE CURIOUS BOOK OF BIRDS 
 
 similar customs. You remember how, in early 
 Christian times, long, long ago, Galahad and other 
 boys had to fast and watch by their armor during 
 the long night hours before they could become 
 knights, to wear spurs and shield and sword ? In 
 just the same way a brown Ojibway lad had to 
 make a long fast in order to win the love of his 
 Guardian Spirit, who would after that watch over 
 him to make him brave and strong. It was a very 
 important event in a boy's life, like graduation 
 from school or college nowadays. For this meant 
 the graduation from boyhood into manhood, the 
 winning of a warrior's diploma. 
 
 The father of ladilla was a brave warrior, a fa- 
 mous chief. But he wished his son to become 
 even better, wiser, greater than he had been. He 
 resolved that the boy should fast longer and harder 
 than ever a lad had fasted before. For he believed 
 that this was the way to make him the noblest of 
 his race. ladilla was a fine handsome lad, but he 
 was the youngest one who had ever made the 
 trial, and there were many bigger boys than he 
 who were not yet warriors. The other chiefs said 
 that he was not yet old and strong enough. 
 
 But ladilla's father declared that it was time, 
 and bade his son gather courage and pride for 
 the ordeal. " For," he said, " it will be no easy 
 
 88 
 
THE ROBIN WHO WAS AN INDIAN 
 
 matter, my son, to become the greatest chief of 
 the Ojibways." 
 
 " My father," replied ladilla, humbly, " I will 
 do as you wish. I will do what I can. But my 
 strength is not the strength of the bigger boys ; 
 and I think it is yet early to talk of my becoming 
 greatest of the Ojibways. Yet make trial of me, if 
 you wish." 
 
 The father of ladilla had made a little tent of 
 skins where the boy was to live during his fasting 
 time ; where he was to lie without food or drink 
 for twelve long days, waiting for a message from 
 the Guardian Spirit whose love was to be the re- 
 ward of such a trial. 
 
 When the time came, the old man led ladilla 
 to the lodge and bade him lie down on the bed of 
 skins which had been prepared for him. And 
 ladilla did as he was bid, for he was a brave and 
 obedient lad. 
 
 The days crept by, the long, long days of wait- 
 ing, while ladilla lay in the lodge bearing hunger 
 and thirst such as no Ojibway lad had ever before 
 known. All day and all night he lay still and spoke 
 never a word. But a dreadful fear was in his heart 
 lest he should not be able to endure the fast for the 
 twelve days which his father had set. 
 
 Every morning his father came to the lodge to 
 89 
 
THE CURIOUS BOOK OF BIRDS 
 
 praise and to encourage him, and to rejoice in one 
 more day checked from the long time of fasting. 
 So eight days passed, and the old man was proud 
 and happy. Already his dear son had done more 
 than any Ojibway lad, and the whole tribe was 
 praising ladilla, saying what a great chief he would 
 be in the days to come. 
 
 But on the ninth morning, when the father 
 peeped into the lodge to see how bravely his son 
 was faring, the boy turned his head toward the 
 door and spoke for the first time in all those long 
 days. He was very thin and pale, and his voice 
 sounded weak. 
 
 " My father," he said, " I have slept, and my 
 dreams were sad. I have slept, and my dreams 
 were of failure and weakness. The time does not 
 please my Guardian Spirit. It is not now that I 
 can become a warrior. I am not yet strong and 
 old enough. O my father, I cannot bear the fast 
 longer ! I am so hungry, so thirsty, so faint ! Let 
 me break my fast, and try again in another year." 
 
 But the father sternly refused, for he was ambi- 
 tious. " Nay, lad," he cried, frowningly. " Would 
 you fail me now *? Think of the glory, think of 
 being the greatest of Ojibways. It is but a few 
 short days now. Courage, ladilla, be a man in 
 strength and patience." 
 
 90 
 
THE ROBIN WHO WAS AN INDIAN 
 
 ladilla said no more. He wrapped himself 
 closer in his blanket and drew his belt tighter about 
 his slender waist, trying to stifle the hunger gnaw- 
 ing there. So he lay silently until the eleventh day. 
 That morning his father came to the lodge, beam- 
 ing proudly. 
 
 " Bravo, my ladilla ! " he cried. " Only one day 
 more, and you will be released from your fast." 
 But ladilla clasped his hands beseechingly. 
 
 " My father," gasped the poor boy. " I cannot 
 bear it another day. I am not fit to be a great 
 chief. I have failed. Give me food, or I die ! " 
 
 But again the father refused. " It is but a day 
 now," he said, " but a few short hours. Bear a lit- 
 tle longer, ladilla. To-morrow I myself will bring 
 you the finest breakfast that ever a lad ate. Cour- 
 age, boy, for the few hours that remain." 
 
 ladilla was too weak to answer. He lay motion- 
 less, with only a gentle heaving of his breast to 
 show that he still lived. His father left him for the 
 last time, and went to prepare the morrow's goodly 
 breakfast, while the tribe planned a fine festival in 
 honor of the young hero. 
 
 Early on the morrow came ladilla's father to the 
 tent, proudly bearing the breakfast for his brave 
 boy, and smiling to think how gladly he would 
 be received. But he stopped outside the tent door 
 
 9* 
 
THE CURIOUS BOOK OF BIRDS 
 
 surprised to hear some one talking within. Stoop- 
 ing to a little hole in the skin of the tent he peeped 
 in to find who the speaker might be. Imagine his 
 surprise to find ladilla standing upright in the mid- 
 dle of the tent painting his breast a brilliant red, 
 as Indians do in war time. And as he daubed on 
 the colors he talked to himself. He spoke softly, 
 yet not with the weak voice of a starving lad ; and 
 his face was very beautiful to see, despite its pale 
 thinness. 
 
 " My father has ended my Indian life," he said. 
 " My father, too ambitious, has put upon me more 
 than my strength could bear. He would not lis- 
 ten to my prayer of weakness. But I knew, I 
 knew! And my kind Guardian Spirit knew 
 also that it was more than I could bear. He 
 has shown pity, seeing that I was obedient to my 
 father and did my best to please him. Now I 
 am to be no longer an Indian boy. I must take 
 the shape which the Spirit has given me, and go 
 away." 
 
 At these strange words the father broke into the 
 tent, exclaiming in terror, 
 
 " My son, my dear son ! Do not leave me ! " 
 
 But, even as he spoke, ladilla changed into a 
 beautiful Robin Redbreast with soft feathers and 
 strong, firm wings. And, fluttering up to the ridge- 
 
 92 
 
THE ROBIN WHO WAS AN INDIAN 
 
 pole of the tent, he looked down with pity and 
 tenderness upon the heart-broken chief. 
 
 " Do not grieve, father," he sang. " I shall be 
 so much happier as a bird, free from human pain 
 and sorrow. I will cheer you with my merry songs. 
 Otu I have been hungry ; but now I shall get my 
 food so easily, so pleasantly on mountains and in 
 the fields. Oh, once I was thirsty; but now the 
 dew is mine and the little springs. Once I traced 
 my way painfully by forest paths through bog and 
 brake and tangled brier. But now my pathways 
 are in the bright, clear air, where never thorn can 
 tear nor beast can follow. Farewell, dear father! 
 I am so happy !", 
 
 He stretched his brown wings as easily as if he 
 had worn them all his life, and, singing a sweet 
 song, fluttered away to the neighboring woods, 
 where he built his nest, and lived happily ever 
 after. 
 
 And since that day the glad little Robins have 
 lived as that first one promised, close by the homes 
 of men, and have done all they could to cheer us 
 and make us happy. For they remember how, 
 once upon a time, their ancestor was a human 
 boy. 
 
 93 
 
THE INQUISITIVE WOMAN 
 
 HERE was once a woman who was 
 so very inquisitive that she wished 
 to know everything. She was never 
 happy unless she was poking her 
 nose into some mystery, and the less a matter 
 concerned her the more curious she was about 
 it. 
 
 One day the Lord gathered together all the 
 insects in the world, all the beetles, bugs, bees, 
 mosquitoes, ants, locusts, grasshoppers, and other 
 creatures who fly or hop or crawl, and shut them 
 up in a huge sack well tied at the end. What a 
 queer, squirming, muffled-buzzing bundle it made, 
 to be sure ! 
 
 Then the Lord called the woman to him and 
 said, "Woman, I would have you take this sack 
 and throw it into the sea. But be sure and do not 
 untie the end of it to look inside ; for the sack 
 must on no account be opened, even for a single 
 minute." 
 
 The woman took the sack, wondering very 
 much at the queer size and shape and feeling of 
 
 94 
 
THE INQUISITIVE WOMAN 
 
 it, and especially at the strange noises which came 
 from the inside. 
 
 " What can be in the sack ? " she said to her- 
 self. " Oh, I wish I knew ! Oh, how I wish I 
 knew ! Oh, how very, very much I wish I knew ! " 
 Her curiosity increased every minute as she went 
 step by step towards the sea, until when she had 
 gone scarcely a hundred paces she stopped short 
 and said, " I must know what is inside this sack 
 before I go any farther. I will take just one tiny 
 little peep, and He will never know it." 
 
 Very carefully she untied the neck of the sack. 
 Buzz! Whirr! Hum! Zim! She had opened 
 it but a tiny little crack when out crawled and 
 hopped and flew the millions and swarms and 
 colonies of all kinds of insects, and away they 
 scattered in every direction. Such a noise as filled 
 the air about the astonished woman's head ! Such 
 a wriggling and squirming and hopping in the 
 grass about her feet ! 
 
 " Oh, now I know what was in the sack ! " she 
 cried. "But I wish I had not looked. Oh, what- 
 ever shall I do? He told me to throw the bag 
 into the ocean without looking in. But now the 
 horrid creatures have escaped everywhere and He 
 will know what I have done. Oh, what will He 
 do to punish me?" 
 
 95 
 
THE CURIOUS BOOK OF BIRDS 
 
 She began to run hither and yon like a crazy 
 woman, picking up the bugs and jumping for the 
 fluttering insects, trying to put them back into 
 the bag. They stung her and bit her and got 
 into her eyes until she screamed with pain. As 
 fast as she caught one another escaped, and she 
 soon saw that it was a hopeless task. She could 
 never catch the millions of creatures who had scat- 
 tered away to their homes in every corner of the 
 world. 
 
 Then the Lord came to her and said very 
 sternly, " O Woman, you have disobeyed me, just 
 as did the very first woman of all. And you must 
 be punished both for your disobedience and for 
 your inquisitiveness which has led you into the 
 worse sin. Not until you have gathered up every 
 one of these insects which you have permitted to 
 escape back into the world shall you be happy. 
 But I will give you wings to help you in the task. 
 You shall become a Woodpecker, and it shall be 
 your task to hunt, hunt for the insects which hide 
 away so slyly at your approach. Not till the last 
 one of these is gobbled up from the earth shall 
 you return to your own shape and be a woman 
 once more." 
 
 Then the Lord changed the inquisitive woman 
 into a restless Woodpecker, and with a " tut-tut ! " 
 
 96 
 
THE INQUISITIVE WOMAN 
 
 she darted away in pursuit of the insects which 
 had brought her into such trouble. 
 
 And that is why to this day one sees the Wood- 
 pecker pecking so frantically on the tree trunks, 
 anxious lest a single insect should escape. For 
 she is very tired of being a bird, and is longing 
 to become a woman once more. But it will be a 
 very long time, I fear, before she gathers up all 
 the wriggling, squirming, hopping, buzzing, sting- 
 ing, biting things that make life in the country so 
 varied, exciting, and musical. 
 
 97 
 
WHY THE NIGHTINGALE WAKES 
 
 [HEN the other birds are sound asleep 
 in their nests, with their little heads 
 tucked comfortably under their feath- 
 ers, Sister Nightingale, they say, may 
 not rest, but still sounds the notes of her beautiful 
 song in grove and thicket. 
 
 Why does she sing thus, all night long as well 
 as through the day ? It is because she dares not 
 go to sleep on account of the Blindworm, who is 
 waiting to catch her with her eyes closed. 
 
 Once upon a time, when the world was very 
 new, the Blindworm was not quite blind, but had 
 one good eye. Moreover, in those days the Night- 
 ingale also had but one eye. As for the Blind- 
 worm, it mattered very little ; for he was a homely 
 creature, content to crawl about in the dark under- 
 ground, or under wood and leaves, where nobody 
 saw him and nobody cared. But the Nightingale's 
 case was really quite too pitiful ! Fancy the sweet- 
 est singer among all the birds, the favorite chorister, 
 going about with but one eye, while every one else, 
 
 98 
 
WHY THE NIGHTINGALE WAKES 
 
 even the tiniest little Humming Bird of all, had 
 two. 
 
 The Nightingale felt very sore about this matter, 
 and tried to conceal her misfortune from the other 
 birds. She managed to cock her head the other 
 way whenever she met a friend, and she always 
 flew past any stranger so fast that he never saw the 
 empty socket where her other pretty eye should 
 be. 
 
 But one day there was great excitement among 
 the birds. Miss Jenny Wren was going to be 
 married to young Cock Robin. There was to be 
 a grand wedding; every one was invited, and of 
 course the Nightingale was needed to lead the 
 bridal chorus of feathered songsters. But the poor 
 Nightingale was set in a flutter of anxiety by the 
 news. 
 
 " Oh, dear me ! " she said, " I do want to go to 
 Jenny's wedding, oh, of course I do ! But how can 
 I go ? If I do, the other birds will discover that I 
 have but one eye, and then how the disagreeable 
 creatures will laugh at me. Oh dear, oh dear! 
 What shall I do ? I cannot go, no, I really can- 
 not. But what excuse can I give ? Oh, it is not 
 right that the sweetest singer in all Birdland should 
 be laughed at, merely because she has the misfor- 
 tune to lack one poor little eye ! " 
 
 99 
 
THE CURIOUS BOOK OF BIRDS 
 
 The Nightingale sat on the branch, singing so 
 mournfully that all the creatures on the ground 
 below went sorrowfully about their daily business. 
 Just then the Nightingale spied a silvery gleam 
 among the dead leaves. It was the Blindworm, a 
 spotted gray streak, writhing noiselessly along to- 
 wards the decayed wood of a fallen tree, in which 
 he loved to burrow. And the Blindworm was not 
 sad like the others, neither seemed he to care in 
 the least about the Nightingale's music. Worms 
 think little of sweet sounds. He cocked his one 
 eye up towards the Nightingale and winked ma- 
 liciously. He alone of all creatures knew the 
 Nightingale's secret. 
 
 " Good-day, Sister Nightingale," he said. " How 
 is your eye this morning? We have a goodly 
 pair between us ; though I think that mine is 
 rather the better of the two." 
 
 Then he disappeared into a tiny opening. For 
 though the Blindworm is nearly a foot long he is 
 so smooth and slippery that he can enter a hole 
 which is almost smaller than himself. 
 
 The Nightingale was very indignant at being 
 addressed in this familiar way by a miserable, 
 crawling creature who not only could not fly, but 
 who could not sing a note, and did not know do 
 from fa. Besides, it made her angry to think that 
 
 100 
 
WHY THE NIGHTINGALE WAKES 
 
 he knew her secret and talked aloud about it so 
 that any one might hear. 
 
 " The idea ! " she cried. " It is bad enough that 
 I cannot go to the wedding of my dear friend 
 Jenny. But to be jeered at by this creature, it is 
 more than I can bear. Ha ! I have an idea. I 
 will punish him and help myself at the same time. 
 I will steal his one eye and wear it to Jenny 
 Wren's wedding ; then no one will ever discover 
 my misfortune." 
 
 Now this was an excellent scheme, but it was not 
 so easy to carry it out as the Nightingale had 
 thought. For the Blindworm was very timid and 
 kept himself carefully hidden in his burrow of 
 soft soil, as if he half suspected the Nightingale's 
 plans. Day after day the Nightingale kept eager 
 watch upon his movements, and at last, on the 
 very eve of the wedding, when she had almost 
 given up hope, she spied the Blindworm sound 
 asleep on the moss under a tall tree. 
 
 " Ha ! " said the Nightingale to herself very 
 softly. " Now is my chance ! " She fluttered into 
 the top of the oak tree, and from there hopped 
 down from branch to branch, from twig to twig, 
 until she was directly over the sleeper's ugly head, 
 over the one closed eye. Then whirr! Down 
 she pounced upon the Blindworm. And before 
 
 101 
 
THE CURIOUS BOOK OF BIRDS 
 
 the creature had a chance to know what was hap- 
 pening, the Nightingale had stolen his eye, and 
 had popped it into place in the empty socket on 
 the other side of her beak. 
 
 " Ha, ha ! " she sang merrily. " Now I have two 
 bright eyes, as good as any one's. Now I can go 
 to Jenny Wren's wedding as gayly as I please, 
 and no one shall see more of the ceremony than I. 
 I shall be able to tell just exactly how the bride 
 is dressed, how every little feather is arranged, 
 and how she looks after Parson Crow has pro- 
 nounced the blessing. Oh, how happy I am ! " 
 
 But the poor Blindworm, blind indeed from 
 that day forth, began to cry and lament, begging 
 the Nightingale to give him back his eye. 
 
 " Nay," said the Nightingale, " did you not 
 laugh at me when you saw me sadly sitting on the 
 tree, mourning because I could not go to the 
 wedding? Now I have stolen your eye, and I 
 can see famously. But you will never again see 
 me sitting sadly on the tree." 
 
 Then the Blindworm grew very angry. " I will 
 get the eye back ! " he cried. " I will steal it from 
 you, as you stole it from me, some time when you 
 are asleep. I will climb up into your nest some 
 night, and I will take both your eyes of which 
 
 102 
 
WHY THE NIGHTINGALE WAKES 
 
 you are so proud. Then you will be blind, wholly 
 blind as I am now." 
 
 At these threatening words the Nightingale 
 ceased to sing and became silent with fear. For 
 she knew that the Blindworm would do as he 
 said. But again a brilliant thought came to her. 
 
 " Nay ! " she trilled gladly. " That you shall 
 never do. I will never sleep again. I will keep 
 awake always, night and day, with my two bright 
 eyes ever looking out for danger. Yes, yes, yes ! 
 No one shall ever catch me napping." 
 
 " You cannot help yourself," said the Blindworm. 
 " You cannot keep awake. You will drowse in 
 spite of everything. I shall yet find you asleep 
 some night, and then beware ! " 
 
 u Nay, nay ! " warbled the Nightingale, as she 
 flew away to make herself fine for the wedding. 
 " I shall sing, sing, sing night and day henceforth 
 to keep myself awake. And thus I need not fear. 
 Farewell-well-well ! " 
 
 And so the Nightingale went to the wedding 
 and sang more sweetly in the bridal chorus than 
 she had ever sung before. And after that, although 
 she was weary, oh, so weary ! she sang all night 
 long, and all the next night and the next. And so 
 she has continued to sing ever since in the lands 
 
 103 
 
THE CURIOUS BOOK OF BIRDS 
 
 which are blessed by her presence. For she dares 
 not go to sleep even for a single moment, know- 
 ing that the Blindworm is ever ready to pounce 
 upon her and take away the eyes which she is now 
 enjoying. 
 
 104 
 
MRS. PARTRIDGE'S BABIES 
 
 JONG, long ago, when the world was 
 very young indeed, the Birds and 
 Animals used to send their children 
 to school, to Mother Magpie's kin- 
 dergarten. All the morning long the babies learned 
 their lessons which it was needful for them to 
 know. And when the noon hour came their 
 various mammas came to the school bringing 
 lunches for the children. You can imagine how 
 gladly they were received by the hungry little 
 scholars. 
 
 One day Mrs. Partridge was very busy with her 
 house-cleaning, and when the noontime came she 
 could not leave her work to go to the school with 
 her babies' lunch. 
 
 " Dear me," she said, looking out of the nest, 
 "here it is noon and the little Partridges will be 
 so very hungry. But I really cannot leave home 
 now. What shall I do *? If only some other mamma 
 were going that way." 
 
 She craned her neck and looked eagerly in every 
 direction. And finally she spied Madame Tortoise 
 
 105 
 
THE CURIOUS BOOK OF BIRDS 
 
 plodding along towards the school, with the lunch 
 for her little Turtlets. 
 
 " Oho, neighbor, oho ! Stop a minute ! " cried 
 Mrs. Partridge, waving a wing at Tortoise. " Are 
 you going schoolward, as I think ? Oh, dear Ma- 
 dame Tortoise, if you knew how busy I am to- 
 day. I don't think any one was ever so busy as I 
 am with my house-cleaning. Will you do me a 
 favor, please *? " 
 
 The Tortoise sniffed. " Well, I am a busy wo- 
 man myself," she said, " but I am willing to oblige 
 a neighbor. What is it you wish, ma'am ? " 
 
 " Oh, thank you so much ! " cried the Partridge. 
 " Dear Madame Tortoise, I shall never forget your 
 kindness. Now, will you take this bunch of nice 
 wiggly worms to my little ones for their lunch *? 
 I shall be so very grateful." 
 
 " Don't mention it," snapped the Tortoise, who 
 was rather tired of hearing Mrs. Partridge's shrill 
 thanks. " I 'm perfectly willing to take the lunch, 
 since I am going to the same place. But I don't 
 know your babies. What do they look like, 
 ma'am?" 
 
 " Oh, that is easily told," cried Mrs. Partridge. 
 "They are the most beautiful little creatures in 
 the school. They are said greatly to resemble me. 
 You will have no trouble in recognizing them. 
 
 1 06 
 
Here are some nice fat wiggly worms ! 
 
MRS. PARTRIDGE'S BABIES 
 
 When you come to the school just look around 
 at all the children, and pick out the three most 
 beautiful of all. Those are certain to be mine. 
 Give them the wiggly worms, please, with my 
 love. And oh, thank you, Madame Tortoise, so 
 very much ! Some time I will do as much for you. 
 So neighborly ! Thank you ! " 
 
 " Don't mention it ! " snapped the Tortoise again, 
 very much bored by all this chatter. She sniffed 
 as she moved slowly along towards the school, 
 with the second lunch carried carefully on her 
 broad shell-back. " They are nice fat worms," she 
 said. 
 
 Now when the Tortoise came to the school it 
 was high noon, and all the children were waiting 
 open-mouthed for their mammas and the lunches 
 which they expected. Such rows and rows of wide 
 hungry mouths ! Madame Tortoise moved slowly 
 up and down and round and round, eyeing the 
 various children who begged for the nice wiggly 
 worms. " H'm ! " she said to herself, " hungry 
 children seem to look considerably alike, and none 
 of them are so wondrously beautiful when their 
 mouths are wide open greedily. I wonder which 
 are Mrs. Partridge's children. She told me to give 
 this lunch to the handsomest babies here. Well, 
 I will, and if I make a mistake it will not be my 
 
 107 
 
THE CURIOUS BOOK OF BIRDS 
 
 fault. Hello ! Here are my dear little Turtlets ! 
 Bless the babies, how pretty they are ! Why, I 
 declare, I never realized that they were so hand- 
 some. Certainly, they are the best-looking children 
 in the school. Then I must give them Mrs. Par- 
 tridge's luncheon, for so I promised. Yes, my little 
 ones, here is your lunch which I brought for you. 
 And when you have finished that, here is another, 
 some nice, fat, wiggly worms which mother col- 
 lected on the way, a prize for the handsomest 
 children in the school." 
 
 So the little Turtlets fared wonderfully well that 
 day ; but the poor little Partridges went hungry, 
 and had dreadful headaches, and went home peep- 
 ing sadly to their silly mother. And Mrs. Partridge 
 had no more sense than to be angry with Madame 
 Tortoise, which I think was very unfair, don't you ? 
 For the latter had only done as she was bidden by 
 her silly and conceited neighbor. 
 
 But after that the Tortoise and the Partridge 
 never spoke to each other, and their children 
 would not play together at school. 
 
 108 
 
THE EARLY GIRL 
 
 HERE were once two girls who were 
 very dear friends, Zaica and Tour- 
 tourelle. One morning Zaica woke 
 up and said, " O Tourtourelle ! Last 
 night I had such a strange dream ! " 
 
 ** And so did I ! " cried Tourtourelle. " Let us 
 tell each other the dreams. But you first, Zaica." 
 Zaica began to laugh. " I dreamed I was a 
 pretty bird with a tuft of feathers on my head. I 
 could fly, and, O Tourtourelle ! it was great fun ! 
 But the most amusing thing of all was that I could 
 sing so finely, and mock all the birds of the forest. 
 Nay, I could even imitate the sounds of animals. 
 I cannot help laughing when I think what a jolly 
 time I had." 
 
 " Why, Zai'ca ! " cried Tourtourelle, wondering, 
 "I dreamed the very same thing. I too was a 
 pretty little bird, and I too could imitate all kinds 
 of sounds as I fluttered in the tree-tops. Surely, 
 the dream will come true for one of us. How 
 fine that would be ! " 
 
 " Yes, let it be for the one of us who first rises 
 109 
 
THE CURIOUS BOOK OF BIRDS 
 
 to-morrow morning," said Za'ica. And so the two 
 friends agreed. 
 
 Now when it came night-time Zaica went to 
 bed very early, like a wise little girl who wants to 
 rise with the sun. But Tourtourelle said to her- 
 self, " I know what I will do, I will not go to 
 sleep. I will sit up all night, and then I am sure 
 to be the first to rise." 
 
 So Tourtourelle perched herself on a high- 
 backed chair and stretched her eyes wide open. 
 For hours and hours she sat there, growing more 
 sleepy every minute. Towards morning she be- 
 gan to nod ; she could hardly keep her eyes open, 
 though she tried to prop the lids with her finger 
 tips. Finally, whether she would or no, she fell 
 fast asleep, poor little Tourtourelle, worn out with 
 her long vigil. 
 
 When the first morning sunbeam peeped into 
 the chamber Zaica opened her eyes, refreshed and 
 smiling. She sat up in bed remembering the 
 dream, and then jumped lightly to the floor. As 
 she did so she glanced at her feet, which felt 
 queer. Wonderful ! They were little bird claws ! 
 She looked down at herself. She was covered 
 with soft feathers. She tried to move her arms, 
 and when she did so she rose lightly from the 
 floor and skimmed out of the window into the 
 
 no 
 
THE EARLY GIRL 
 
 garden. Zaica had become a pretty little bird, just 
 as she had dreamed. Oh, how happy she was ! She 
 heard a Lark singing far up in the sky. Opening 
 her mouth, she warbled and trilled as well as he, 
 until he dropped down quickly to the earth, think- 
 ing it must be his mate who sang so sweetly. She 
 spied a Chicken strayed too far from the mother 
 Hen; and chuckling to herself mischievously she 
 imitated the warning cry of a Hawk, till the 
 Chick ran squawking back to the shelter of his 
 mother's wing. She heard a hound baying afar 
 off, and with little trouble echoed the sound so 
 perfectly that a groom came running out of the 
 stable, whistling for the dog which he feared was 
 straying from the kennel. Zaica found that as 
 in her dream she could imitate all the sounds 
 which she heard; and she was so pleased that 
 she sang and sang and sang, hopping from tree 
 to tree, teasing the other birds with her mockery, 
 and puzzling them, too. 
 
 As for poor Tourtourelle, when she waked it 
 was very late. She yawned and rubbed her eyes 
 languidly, for she was still sleepy. Then looking 
 across to Za'ica's bed she saw that it was empty. 
 Her heart gave a great thump, for she longed and 
 longed to be a bird, but now she feared that she 
 was too late. In her white gown she ran out into 
 
 in 
 
THE CURIOUS BOOK OF BIRDS 
 
 the garden looking for Zaica. But first she saw 
 an old man leading his cow to the pasture. And 
 to the cow he said, " Coo-roo, coo-roo ! " coaxing 
 her to hasten. 
 
 "Coo-roo, coo-roo!" cried Tourtourelle, imi- 
 tating him, she knew not why. And as she said 
 it she wondered at the strange feeling which came 
 over her. For her body felt very light and it 
 seemed as if she could fly. She looked down and 
 saw that she was no longer covered with a little 
 white gown but with soft feathers of ashy gray, 
 while wings sprouted from her shoulders. 
 
 " Oh, I have become a bird ! " she tried to say, 
 but all she uttered was " Coo-roo, coo-roo ! " 
 For Tourtourelle was become a beautiful Turtle- 
 Dove, and that is all a Turtle-Dove can say. 
 
 " Coo-roo, coo-roo ! " mocked a voice from the 
 tree. And cocking her little reddish eye Tour- 
 tourelle saw a brilliant Jay hopping in the branches, 
 imitating a Dove. Then it was the song of a 
 Wren that she heard, then a Lark, then a Thrush, 
 then a Sparrow-Hawk, all these sounds coming 
 from the one little throat of the happy bird on 
 that bough. Tourtourelle tried to do likewise, but 
 all she could sing was " Coo-roo ! coo-roo ! " And 
 she said mournfully to herself: 
 
 "It is Zaica. She was wiser than I, and earlier, 
 
 112 
 
THE EARLY GIRL 
 
 and the dream came true for her. Oh dear ! Oh 
 dear ! " And to this day Turtle-Dove flies about 
 sadly uttering her monotonous cry, and listening 
 with a longing that would be envy, were she not 
 so good a little bird, to the chatter of her friend 
 the Jay. 
 
 For Zaica the Jay is always merry, hopping 
 from tree to tree, playing her jokes upon the other 
 birds whom she deceives with her wonderful voice. 
 And she leads a life so gay and exciting that she 
 never finds time to be sad, even over the disap- 
 pointment of her dear friend, poor little Tour- 
 tourelle. 
 
HOW THE BLACKBIRD SPOILED 
 HIS COAT 
 
 white as 
 meadow. 
 
 NCE upon a time, our friend Black- 
 bird, who comes first of the feathered 
 brothers in the spring, was not black 
 at all. No, indeed ; he was white 
 the feather-snow new fallen in the 
 There are very few birds who have 
 
 been thought worthy to dress all in beautiful 
 white, for that is the greatest honor which a bird 
 can have. So, like the Swan and the Dove, 
 Master Whitebird for that is what they called 
 him then was very proud of his spotless coat. 
 
 He was very proud and happy, and he sang all 
 day long, the jolliest songs. But you see he did 
 not really deserve this honor, because he was at 
 heart a greedy bird ; and therefore a great shame 
 came upon him, and after that he was never proud 
 nor happy any more. I shall tell you the story of 
 how the Whitebird grew grimy and gloomy as we 
 know him, almost as black and solemn as old 
 Daddy Crow. 
 
 Once upon a time, then, Master Whitebird 
 114 
 
THE BLACKBIRD SPOILED HIS COAT 
 
 was teetering on a rose-bush, ruffling his beautiful 
 white feathers and singing little bits of poetry 
 about himself to any one who would listen. 
 
 " Ho-ho, ho-hee, 
 Just look at me ! " 
 
 he piped, and cocked his little eyes about in every 
 direction, to see who might be admiring his won- 
 drous whiteness. 
 
 But all on a sudden his song gurgled down into 
 his throat and choked itself still, and his eyes fixed 
 themselves upon a tree close by. It was a dead 
 old tree, and there was a hole in the trunk half- 
 way up to the lowest limb, a round little hole 
 about as big as your two fists. 
 
 Whitebird had seen something black pop into 
 that hole in a sly and secret way, and he began 
 to wonder ; for he was inquisitive, as most birds 
 are. He sat quite still on his rose-bush and 
 watched and watched. Presently out of the hole 
 popped a black head, bigger than Whitebird's, 
 with two wise little twinkling eyes. 
 
 "Oho!" said Whitebird to himself, "it is 
 Mother Magpie up to her old tricks, hiding, hid- 
 ing. Maybe she has a treasure hidden there. I 
 will watch, and perhaps I shall find out something 
 worth knowing." 
 
 "5 
 
THE CURIOUS BOOK OF BIRDS 
 
 Mother Magpie was the wisest and the slyest 
 of all the birds, and it was always worth while, as 
 Whitebird knew, to take lessons of her. So he 
 sat perfectly still until she came cautiously back 
 carrying something in her beak. It was round and 
 white and glinted like moonlight. Whitebird's 
 eyes stuck out greedily. 
 
 " It is a piece of silver ! " he thought, but he sat 
 perfectly still until the Magpie had stowed the 
 coin safely in the hollow tree and had hopped 
 away as if upon an unfinished errand. '" Aha ! there 
 is more then. I will watch to see what comes next," 
 said Whitebird. And he waited. 
 
 Sure enough. In a little while the Magpie re- 
 turned, this time bringing something which glowed 
 yellow like sunlight. 
 
 " It is a piece of gold ! " gasped Whitebird, and 
 his eyes bulged out like those of lobsters, he was 
 so jealous of her luck. But he silently watched her 
 disappear into her tree-cupboard and then hastily 
 depart as before toward the mountain. "What 
 comes next ? " muttered Whitebird to himself. " I 
 am dying to peep into that hole. I cannot wait 
 much longer." 
 
 Then, after a while, a third time came back the 
 Magpie to the dead tree. And lo, what she carried 
 in her beak twinkled and trembled and shone in 
 
 116 
 
THE BLACKBIRD SPOILED HIS COAT 
 
 many colors, like a drop of dew on a velvet flower- 
 cheek. When Whitebird saw this sight, he nearly 
 tumbled off his perch with excitement. 
 
 " It is a diamond ! " he cried aloud ; " oh, it is a 
 real diamond ! " 
 
 At this sudden noise from the rose-bush Mother 
 Magpie's nerves were so shocked that she dropped 
 the diamond helter-skelter into the hole. And in a 
 moment she fell in after it, out of sight. She hoped 
 that no one had seen her, but little Whitebird knew 
 the place. He hopped after her and, perching on 
 the edge of the hole, peered down into the hollow 
 tree. And there he saw a great heap of silver and 
 gold and precious stones, which Mother Magpie 
 was trying to cover with her wings. 
 
 " Oh, what a treasure ! What a treasure ! " he 
 piped greedily. "Mother Magpie, you must tell 
 me where you found it, that I may go and get 
 some for myself." 
 
 But Mother Magpie refused to tell. 
 
 " Oho ! " chirped Whitebird, angrily ; " we shall 
 see about that ! Then I will call in the fierce birds, 
 Robber Hawk and Fighting Falcon and the 
 bloody Butcher Bird, and they will take your trea- 
 sure from you, and kill you, too, into the bargain. 
 What do you think of that, Mother Magpie *? " 
 
 Then she was afraid, for she knew those bad 
 117 
 
THE CURIOUS BOOK OF BIRDS 
 
 birds ; and she saw that she must trust her secret 
 with Whitebird, since he had already discovered 
 half the truth. 
 
 " Well, if you will promise me not to let any 
 one else know, not even King Eagle, I will tell 
 you," she said. So Whitebird promised. 
 
 " Listen," said the Magpie. " You must find the 
 cave which is near the tallest oak on the mountain, 
 under the flat stone. In a corner there is a tiny 
 hole, just big enough for you or me to pass. And 
 this is the entrance to a passage which leads down 
 into the cellars of the earth. And when you have 
 gone down and down, farther than any one except 
 myself ever went before, you will come to the pal- 
 ace of the King of Riches. It is full of gold and 
 silver and precious stones like these you see here. 
 Each chamber is more beautiful and more tempting 
 than the last. But you must not touch a stone or 
 a single coin, or even a little bit of gold-dust, until 
 you have seen the King. For first you must offer 
 yourself to be his servant, and then he will be gen- 
 erous ; then he will let you carry away as much 
 treasure as your beak will hold. That is all there is 
 to it. But beware, greedy Whitebird ! Take my 
 advice, and do not touch a grain of treasure before 
 you see the King, or great evil will befall you." 
 
 Whitebird promised to do as she said. And 
 118 
 
THE BLACKBIRD SPOILED HIS COAT 
 
 then away he flew to the blue mountain and its 
 tallest oak. Close by the great oak, in a lonely 
 spot, he found the flat rock, and under it was the 
 cave where once a bear had lived. Whitebird 
 hopped in eagerly, and away back in one corner 
 of the cave he found a little round hole, as the 
 Magpie had said ; a hole not much bigger than an 
 apple. It must have been a tight squeeze for fat 
 Mother Magpie ! 
 
 Whitebird hopped through the hole and found 
 himself in a long, narrow passage which led down, 
 down, down into places where his eyes were of no 
 use at all. For he was not like Master Owl, who 
 can see better in the dark than anywhere else. 
 Blindly he hopped on and on, till he came into a 
 great cavern, bright with a white radiance, as if the 
 moonlight filtered in from somewhere. It was the 
 first room of the King's palace of treasure ; and it 
 was all of silver, paved with silver, heaped with 
 silver, shining with silver. Whitebird's eyes glit- 
 tered and he wanted to stop and take some for 
 himself. But just in time he remembered the wise 
 warning of Mother Magpie ; and so he hopped on 
 over the silver pebbles through a silver door into 
 a second room. And this was flooded with yellow 
 light as of sunshine, so dazzling that for a mo- 
 ment Whitebird's yellow eyes could see nothing 
 
 119 
 
THE CURIOUS BOOK OF BIRDS 
 
 at all. When he could see, the place seemed full 
 of yellow eyes like his own, great yellow eyes 
 heaped up from floor to ceiling. And when he 
 became used to this he looked again and saw that 
 these were golden coins, and that this was a cav- 
 ern all of gold. 
 
 Oh, such a wonderful sight ! Oh, such a golden 
 dream! The floor on which he stood was deep 
 with gold dust, which squished between his toes 
 like yellow sand on a sea beach. And then White- 
 bird lost his head and went quite mad, forgetting 
 the words of wise Mother Magpie. 
 
 " Gold dust, gold dust, a treasure for me ! " he 
 sang, hopping up and down on one leg. " I can 
 carry away a great beakful of the yellow seeds, 
 and each one will blossom into a golden flower for 
 me for me for me ! " He was wholly crazy, 
 as you see. 
 
 He thrust his bill deep into the gold dust of the 
 floor, and greedily filled it more than full, till it 
 dropped over his white, white feathers and splashed 
 his coat so that he was no longer a white bird but 
 a yellow bird. Oh, the silly, greedy thing ! But 
 there are worse fates than being a yellow bird. 
 
 Just at this moment a dreadful roar echoed 
 through the caverns till they rumbled like an earth- 
 quake, and into the golden chamber crashed a hor- 
 
 120 
 
THE BLACKBIRD SPOILED HIS COAT 
 
 rible dragon-creature, the guardian of the King's 
 treasure. His eyes blazed red like coals, and from 
 his mouth came smoke and flame so that the gold 
 melted before his breath. He rushed straight upon 
 poor little Whitebird to gobble him up, and as he 
 came he roared: "Thief, thief! who steals my 
 master's treasure *? I scorch you with my eye ! I 
 burn you with my breath ! I swallow you into the 
 furnace of my throat. Gr-r-r-r ! " 
 
 There seemed no chance for Whitebird to es- 
 cape, the creature was so near. But with a cry of 
 terror he fluttered and hopped away as fast as he 
 could toward the narrow passage, through the gold 
 chamber and the silver chamber, leaving all the 
 treasure behind. (Oh, don't you wish we could 
 have known how the diamond chamber looked, 
 with its rainbow light V) 
 
 Whitebird hopped and fluttered, fluttered and 
 hopped, feeling the dragon's hot breath close be- 
 hind frizzling his feathers and blinding his eyes 
 with smoke. He seemed like to be roasted alive 
 in this horrible underground oven. But oh, there 
 was the hole close before him ! Pouf ! With a ter- 
 rible roar the dragon snapped at him as Whitebird 
 popped through the hole ; but he got only a mouth- 
 ful of burnt tail-feathers. Whitebird was safe, safe 
 in the narrow passage where the dragon could not 
 
 121 
 
THE CURIOUS BOOK OF BIRDS 
 
 follow. Up and up and up and up he feebly flut- 
 tered into the light of the dear outside worfd, and 
 then he gave a chirp of joy to find that he really 
 had escaped. But oh, how tired and frightened he 
 was! 
 
 Mother Magpie was sitting on a bush waiting 
 for him, for she had guessed what would happen 
 to the greedy bird. And when she saw him she 
 gave a squawk of laughter. 
 
 "O Whitebird," she chuckled, "what a sight! 
 what a sight ! Your lovely coat, your spotless 
 feathers ! Oh, you greedy, greedy Blackbird! " 
 
 Then he who had been Whitebird looked down 
 at himself and saw what a dreadful thing had hap- 
 pened. And he closed his eyes and gave a hoarse, 
 sad croak. For the smoke and flame of the dra- 
 gon's breath had smirched and scorched him from 
 top to toe, so that he was no longer white, but 
 thenceforth and forever Blackbird. 
 
 I think Mother Magpie must have told the story 
 to her children, chuckling over the greedy fellow's 
 failure. And they told it to the children of sunny 
 France, from whom I got the tale for you. So now 
 you know why the Blackbird looks so solemn and 
 so sulky in his suit of rusty black ; and why his 
 nerves are so weak that if one suddenly surprises 
 him, picking up seeds in the field, he gives a ter- 
 
 122 
 
THE BLACKBIRD SPOILED HIS COAT 
 
 rible scream of fright. For he thinks one is that 
 dreadful dragon-creature who chased him and so 
 nearly gobbled him on that unlucky day, long 
 ago. 
 
 Poor Brother Blackbird ! Don't let him know I 
 told you all this ; it would make him so very much 
 ashamed. 
 
THE BLACKBIRD AND THE FOX 
 
 JNE day Madame Fox, who was stroll- 
 ing along under the hedge, heard a 
 Blackbird trilling on a branch. Quick 
 as thought she jumped and seized the 
 little fellow, and was about to gobble him down 
 then and there. But the Blackbird began to chirp 
 piteously : 
 
 " Oh, oh, Madame Fox ! What are you thinking 
 of ? Just see, I am such a tiny mouthful ! And 
 when I am gone I am gone. Only let me free 
 and I will tell you something. Look ! Here come 
 some peasant women with eggs and cheese which 
 they are carrying to the market at Verrieres. That 
 would be a meal worth having ! Only let me go, 
 and I will help you, Master Fox." 
 
 The Fox saw that this might be a good plan 
 which the bird proposed, so she let him go. 
 
 And what do you think the Blackbird did? 
 
 He began to hop, hop, hop toward the women, 
 
 dragging his wing behind him as if it were 
 
 broken, which is a trick some birds know very well. 
 
 " Look ! " cried one of the women, when she 
 
 124 
 
THE BLACKBIRD AND THE FOX 
 
 caught sight of him. "Oh, look at the little 
 Blackbird there ! His wing is broken and he can- 
 not fly. I shall try to catch him." And she ran 
 as fast as she could, making her hands into a little 
 cage to put over him. The other women, too, set 
 down their baskets, for convenience set them 
 down right in the middle of the road and joined 
 the chase after the poor little Blackbird, so lame, 
 so lame ! But always, as they came close to him, 
 he managed to flutter out of reach. 
 
 Meanwhile, Madame Fox went round about by 
 the hedge and came all quietly and unseen to the 
 place where the baskets waited in the road. And 
 oh ! what a good dinner she found there ; chickens 
 and eggs and fresh cheese nicely done up for the 
 market. And the greedy old lady ate them all 
 all the chickens and the eggs and the cheeses. 
 My ! How fat she was when all was done. 
 
 Now the Blackbird hopped on and on for a 
 long, long way, until, by cocking his eye, he saw 
 that Madame Fox had finished her dinner. And 
 then, houff! Up he flew, with a jolly chirp of 
 laughter, right over the heads of the astonished 
 women. What of his broken wing now? He 
 began to whistle, to sing, to chirrup like a crazy 
 bird up there in the air. The women looked at 
 one another sheepishly. 
 
 I2 5 
 
THE CURIOUS BOOK OF BIRDS 
 
 "Ah, the wicked Blackbird ! " they said. " One 
 would have thought that he could not fly at all. 
 But look at him, the sly creature ! Oho, it is a 
 pretty trick he has played us ! " 
 
 They turned back to where they had left their 
 baskets, intending to start on for the market. 
 But when they came there well, well ! What a 
 shame ! they found the eggs, the chickens, the 
 cheeses all gone eaten up by the greedy Fox. 
 And then they began to scold and cry. 
 
 "Oh, what misfortune!" they wailed. "We 
 have lost our eggs, our chickens, and our cheeses, 
 and there is nothing left to carry to market. We 
 have not even a Blackbird to show for our morn- 
 ing's work. Oh dear ! oh dear ! It is all the fault 
 of that wicked, deceitful little bird." 
 
 And, instead of going on to Verrieres, they 
 turned about with their empty baskets and went 
 back home, a sorry party, scolding and crying 
 all the way. But long before they reached their 
 homes and their angry husbands Madame Fox was 
 comfortably snoozing her after-dinner nap under 
 the hedge ; while the happy Blackbird picked up 
 juicy bugs in the neighboring meadow, with one 
 eye cocked to guard against being surprised a sec- 
 ond time by any bushy-tailed rogue. 
 
 126 
 
He managed to flutter out of reach 
 
THE DOVE WHO SPOKE TRUTH 
 
 >HE Dove and the wrinkled little Bat 
 once went on a journey together. 
 When it came towards night a storm 
 arose, and the two companions sought 
 everywhere for a shelter. But all the birds were 
 sound asleep in their nests and the animals in 
 their holes and dens. They could find no wel- 
 come anywhere until they came to the hollow 
 tree where old Master Owl lived, wide awake in 
 the dark. 
 
 " Let us knock here," said the shrewd Bat, " I 
 know the old fellow is not asleep. This is his 
 prowling hour, and but that it is a stormy night 
 he would be abroad hunting. What ho, Master 
 Owl ! " he squeaked, " will you let in two storm- 
 tossed travelers for a night's lodging ? " 
 
 Gruffly the selfish old Owl bade them enter, 
 and grudgingly invited them to share his supper. 
 The poor Dove was so tired that she could scarcely 
 eat, but the greedy Bat's spirits rose as soon as he 
 saw the viands spread before him. He was a sly 
 fellow, and immediately began to flatter his host 
 
 127 
 
THE CURIOUS BOOK OF BIRDS 
 
 into good humor. He praised the Owl's wisdom 
 and his courage, his gallantry and his generosity; 
 though every one knew that however wise old 
 Master Owl might be, he was neither brave nor 
 gallant. As for his generosity, both the Dove 
 and the Bat well remembered his selfishness to- 
 wards the poor Wren, when the Owl alone of all 
 the birds refused to give the little fire-bringer a 
 feather to help cover his scorched and shivering 
 body. 
 
 All this flattery pleased the Owl. He puffed 
 and ruffled himself, trying to look as wise, gal- 
 lant, and brave as possible. He pressed the Bat 
 to help himself more generously to the viands, 
 which invitation the sly fellow was not slow to 
 accept. 
 
 During this time the Dove had not uttered a 
 word. She sat quite still staring at the Bat and 
 wondering to hear such insincere speeches of flat- 
 tery. Suddenly the Owl turned to her. 
 
 " As for you, Miss Pink-eyes," he said gruffly, 
 " you keep careful silence. You are a dull table- 
 companion. Pray, have you nothing to say for 
 yourself ?" 
 
 " Yes," exclaimed the mischievous Bat, " have 
 you no words of praise for our kind host? Me- 
 thinks he deserves some return for this wonder- 
 
 128 
 
THE DOVE WHO SPOKE TRUTH 
 
 fully generous, agreeable, tasteful, well-appointed, 
 luxurious, elegant, and altogether acceptable ban- 
 quet. What have you to say, O little Dove ? " 
 
 But the Dove hung her head , ashamed of her 
 companion, and said very simply : 
 
 " O Master Owl, I can only thank you with all 
 my heart for the hospitality and shelter which you 
 have given me this night. I was beaten by the 
 storm, and you took me in. I was hungry, and 
 you gave me your best to eat. I cannot flatter 
 nor make pretty speeches like the Bat. I never 
 learned such manners. But I thank you." 
 
 "What!" cried the Bat, pretending to be 
 shocked. "Is that all you have to say to our 
 obliging host ? Is he not the wisest, bravest, most 
 gallant and generous of gentlemen ? Have you no 
 praise for his noble character as well as for his 
 goodness to us ? I am ashamed of you ! You do 
 not deserve such hospitality. You do not deserve 
 this shelter." 
 
 The Dove remained silent. Like Cordelia in 
 the play, she could not speak untruths even for 
 her own happiness. 
 
 " Truly, you are an unamiable guest," snarled 
 the Owl, his yellow eyes growing keen and fierce 
 with anger and mortified pride. " You are an un- 
 grateful bird, Miss, and the Bat is right. You 
 
THE CURIOUS BOOK OF BIRDS 
 
 do not deserve this generous hospitality which I 
 have offered, this goodly shelter which you asked. 
 Away with you ! Leave my dwelling ! Pack off 
 into the storm and see whether or not your silence 
 will soothe the rain and the wind. Be off, I say ! " 
 
 " Yes, away with her ! " echoed the Bat, flap- 
 ping his leathery wings. And the two heartless 
 creatures fell upon the poor little Dove and drove 
 her out into the dark and stormy night. 
 
 Poor little Dove ! All night she was tossed and 
 beaten about shelterless in the storm, because she 
 had been too truthful to flatter the vain old Owl. 
 But when the bright morning dawned, draggled 
 and weary as she was, she flew to the court of 
 King Eagle and told him all her trouble. Great 
 was the indignation of that noble bird. 
 
 "For his flattery and his cruelty let the Bat 
 never presume to fly abroad until the sun goes 
 down," he cried. " As for the Owl, I have already 
 doomed him to this punishment for his treatment 
 of the Wren. But henceforth let no bird have 
 anything to do with either of them, the Bat or the 
 Owl. Let them be outcasts and night-prowlers, 
 enemies to be attacked and punished if they 
 appear among us, to be avoided by all in their 
 loneliness. Flattery and inhospitality, deceit and 
 cruelty, what are more hideous than these? 
 
 130 
 
THE DOVE WHO SPOKE TRUTH 
 
 Let them cover themselves in darkness and shun 
 the happy light of day. As for you, little Dove, 
 let this be a lesson to you to shun the company 
 of flatterers, who are sure to get you into trouble. 
 But you shall always be loved for your simplicity 
 and truth. And as a token of our affection your 
 name shall be used by poets as long as the world 
 shall last to rhyme with love." 
 
 The words of the wise King Eagle are true to 
 this day. So now you know why a great many 
 poems came to be written in which the rhymes 
 dove and love have not seemed to make any par- 
 ticular sense. 
 
THE FOWLS ON PILGRIMAGE 
 
 [NCE upon a time old Lady Fox was 
 very hungry, but she had nothing to 
 eat, and there was no sign of a din- 
 ner to be had anywhere. 
 "What shall I do, what shall I do?" whined 
 the Fox. " I am so faint and hungry, but all the 
 birds and all the fowls are afraid of me and will 
 not venture near enough for me to consult them 
 about a dinner. I have so bad a name that no one 
 will trust me. What can I do to win back the 
 respect of the community and earn a square meal ? 
 Ah, I have it ! I will turn pious and go upon a 
 pilgrimage. That ought to make me popular once 
 more." 
 
 So the Fox started upon the pilgrimage. She 
 had not gone very far when she met a Cock, 
 but he knew the character of Madame Fox too 
 well to trust himself near. He flew up into a 
 tree, and from that safe perch crowed jauntily, 
 "Good morning, Madame Fox. Whither away 
 so fast?" 
 
 The Fox drew down the corners of her mouth, 
 132 
 
THE FOWLS ON PILGRIMAGE 
 
 trying to look pious, and rolled up her eyes as 
 she answered in a hollow voice, "Oh, Master 
 Cock, I am going on a pious pilgrimage. I am 
 sorry for my wicked life, and now I am going to 
 be good." 
 
 "Ah," said the Cock, "I am indeed glad to 
 hear that! Going on a pilgrimage, are you ? 
 Well, in that case I will go with you." 
 
 "Do, Master Cock, do," answered the Fox fer- 
 vently. "It will do you good. Come sit upon 
 my broad back and I will carry you." 
 
 The Cock thanked her and climbed upon her 
 back, and so they proceeded on their pilgrim- 
 age together. After a while they came upon a 
 Dove, which fluttered away hastily when she saw 
 old Lady Fox, knowing too well her wicked 
 tricks. But the Fox called to her in a gentle 
 voice : 
 
 " Do not be afraid, O Dove. I know why you 
 start at my approach. But I have repented of my 
 former sins and have turned pilgrim. My friend, 
 the Cock, and I have just started upon our pious 
 journey. Will you join us ? " 
 
 When the innocent Dove saw the Cock upon 
 the Fox's back she thought that certainly every- 
 thing must be safe, so she answered : 
 
 " Yes, Madame Fox, I will go with you." 
 '33 
 
THE CURIOUS BOOK OF BIRDS 
 
 " Jump right up on my back ; there is plenty 
 of room beside the Cock," said the Fox cordially. 
 
 A little further on they met a wild Duck, who 
 waddled away quacking wildly when he saw the 
 Fox trotting towards him. But the sly old lady 
 called out to him, smiling : 
 
 " Be calm, little brother. I have given up my 
 former unkind tricks, for which I sadly repent, 
 and now I am going on a pious pilgrimage. See, 
 your friends the Cock and the Dove are my com- 
 panions." 
 
 " In that case I will go along, too," said the 
 Duck, " for you have a goodly party." 
 
 " That is right," replied the Fox approvingly. 
 " I thought you would go. Kindly take a back 
 seat with the others." 
 
 Now when these queer pilgrims had traveled 
 for some time they came to a cave in the rocks, a 
 deep dark cave which looked like a den. And 
 here the Fox stopped, saying : 
 
 " Dear brothers, it is time that we paused and 
 thought more carefully about our sins. We must 
 cross seas and rivers, and Heaven knows when we 
 shall reach the end of our journey. Let us listen 
 to one another's confessions, for I am sure we have 
 all been miserable sinners. Come, Mr. Cock, come 
 into the cave with me and I will hear you first." 
 
 '34 
 
THE FOWLS ON PILGRIMAGE 
 
 The Cock followed her into the cave, saying 
 with some surprise, " Why, Madame Fox, what 
 have I done that is wicked?" 
 
 "Do you not know?" answered the Fox 
 sternly. " Why, do you not begin to crow at 
 midnight and wake poor tired people out of their 
 first sleep ? Go to ! You ought to be ashamed ! 
 Then again you crow at the most inconveniently 
 early hour in the morning and make the cara- 
 vans mistake the true time, so that they start 
 upon their journeys long before the proper hour 
 and fall into the hands of robbers who prowl 
 about before light. These are dreadful sins, Mr. 
 Cock, and you deserve to be punished." So the 
 wicked old Fox seized the Cock and ate him 
 all up. 
 
 After the Fox had finished him she came to the 
 entrance of the cave and called, " Now you come, 
 little Dove, and tell me what you have done that 
 is naughty." 
 
 " But I have done nothing," said the innocent 
 Dove, wondering very much ; " of what evil do 
 you accuse me, Madame Fox *? " 
 
 " When the farmers sow their grain you dig up 
 the yellow kernels and eat them for your dinner. 
 That is stealing, which is a wicked, wicked sin, and 
 must be severely punished," cried the hungry Fox. 
 
 '35 
 
THE CURIOUS BOOK OF BIRDS 
 
 And thereupon she seized the poor little Dove 
 and ate her up. 
 
 Once more the Fox stood at the door of the 
 cave, stealthily licking her chops, and she called 
 out to the Duck, " Come in, Mr. Duck, and I will 
 hear what you have to say." 
 
 " Well, I have not done anything wrong," said 
 the Duck positively, " and you cannot say that 
 I have ; can you now, Madame Fox ? " 
 
 " Oh, indeed and indeed ! " exclaimed the Fox. 
 "Have you not stolen the king's gold crown, 
 and do you not wear it on your head, you wicked 
 creature ? " 
 
 " Indeed and indeed I have done no such thing. 
 It is not true, Madame Fox, as I can prove. Wait 
 a bit and I will bring witnesses." 
 
 So the Duck went out and flew up and down 
 in front of the cave, waiting. Presently along 
 came a Hunter with a gun, who espied the Duck 
 and aimed the weapon at him. 
 
 "Don't shoot me," cried the Duck. "What 
 have you against me, O Hunter *? I can tell you 
 where to find worthier game. Come with me and 
 I will show you a wicked old Fox who eats in- 
 nocent birds." 
 
 " Very well," said the Hunter, putting up his 
 gun, " show me the place and I will spare you." 
 
 136 
 
THE FOWLS ON PILGRIMAGE 
 
 The Duck led him softly to the entrance of the 
 cave, and pausing there cried out to the Fox in- 
 side, " Come out, Madame Fox, I have brought 
 the witness." 
 
 " Let him come in, let him come in ! " cried the 
 Fox, for she had grown very hungry indeed and 
 hoped for a double meal. 
 
 " No indeed," answered the Duck ; " he insists 
 that you must come out." So the Fox crept 
 stealthily to the door, but as soon as she popped 
 out her wicked old head the Hunter was ready 
 for her, and Bang ! That was the end of the Fox's 
 pilgrimage. 
 
 The Duck also had had enough of being a pil- 
 grim. He went home with the Hunter and be- 
 came a tame Duck, and lived happily ever after 
 on the pond near the Hunter's house. 
 
THE GROUND-PIGEON 
 
 INGE upon a time there was a little 
 Malay maiden who lived in the for- 
 est with her father and mother and 
 baby sister. They dwelt very happily 
 together, until one day Coora's father decided to 
 clear the ground on tie edge of the forest and 
 have a rice plantation, as many of his neighbors 
 were doing. 
 
 So one morning early after breakfast he started 
 out with his axe on his shoulder to cut down the 
 trees and make a clearing. 
 
 " O Father, let me go with you ! " begged 
 Coora. " I do so want to see the plantation grow 
 from the very beginning." 
 
 But her father said No, she must stay at home 
 until the trees were felled. 
 
 " And after that may I go with you *? " asked 
 Coora. And her father promised that it should 
 be so. 
 
 The days went by and at last the trees were all 
 felled in the clearing. When Coora heard this she 
 jumped up and down on her little bare brown feet 
 
 138 
 
THE GROUND-PIGEON 
 
 until her anklets tinkled, and cried, " O Father ! 
 Now I may go with you to the clearing, may I 
 not ? For so you promised." 
 
 But again her father shook his head and said, 
 "No, Coora, not yet. You must wait until the 
 fallen timber has been burned off. Then you shall 
 go with your mother and me to the planting of 
 the rice." 
 
 Coora was very much disappointed, and the big 
 tears stood in her eyes. But she only said, " Do 
 you promise that I may help plant the rice, really 
 and truly?" 
 
 And he called back over his shoulder, "I 
 promise ! " 
 
 At last the fallen timber was burned away, and 
 the ground was ready for planting. One morning 
 Coora saw her father and mother making ready 
 to go out together. "Oh, where are you going, 
 Father and Mother?" she asked. 
 
 " We go to the planting of the rice," answered 
 her father, slinging a big bag over his shoulder. 
 
 " But you promised that I should go with you 
 when that time came?" cried Coora wistfully. 
 " Please, please may I not be your little helper ? " 
 
 "No, no, Coora," answered her mother im- 
 patiently. " Do not tease us so. You must stay 
 at home to take care of your little sister. Be a 
 
THE CURIOUS BOOK OF BIRDS 
 
 good girl this time, and when the rice is well 
 grown we will all go together and harvest it. 
 That will be great fun!" 
 
 " Shall I really go *? Do you promise, Mother ^ " 
 asked poor Coora hopefully, for she felt sure that 
 her mother would not deceive her. 
 
 " I promise," said the mother, not looking her 
 in the eyes ; and the parents went away through 
 the forest to plant the rice. 
 
 Time went by until the rice had grown tall and 
 was ready for the harvest. Now Coora heard her 
 parents talking of the matter, and she was very 
 gay, for now she expected a happy, happy day. 
 She dressed herself and made ready to go to the 
 harvesting, as her parents had promised. But when 
 she joined them, smiling joyfully, they turned 
 upon her frowning and bade her return to the 
 house and take care of everything until their 
 home-coming. Then poor little Coora burst into 
 tears and said, " O my Father and O my Mother, 
 I have obeyed you without a word every time 
 you broke your promise to me. And still you 
 continue to put me off from day to day, when this 
 is the thing I long to do so much that it seems as 
 if my heart would break. Think of it ! The clear- 
 ing has been made, the timber burned, the rice 
 planted and grown, and now it is ready for the 
 
 140 
 
THE GROUND-PIGEON 
 
 harvest. But I have not even seen the place 
 where all this has happened. O Father and Mo- 
 ther, why are you so unkind to me *? " 
 
 " There, there ! " cried her father and mother 
 together, "do not make a fuss over so small a 
 matter. You cannot go to-day; but wait until the 
 rice is gathered and it is time to tread it out. 
 Then we will let you help us, you may be sure. 
 We promise, Coora, that you shall really and 
 truly go." 
 
 " You promise ! " echoed Coora bitterly. "You 
 have promised me before and nothing came of 
 it." But even while she spoke the unkind parents 
 were gone. 
 
 Then Coora fell to weeping most sorely, for she 
 knew that she could not trust the word of her 
 father and mother; and that is a most terrible 
 thing. At last she rose and wiped away the tears 
 and looked about the little cottage where she had 
 been patient through so many disappointments. 
 And she said to herself, " I can bear it no longer. 
 It is not right that I should be made to suffer like 
 this when a little thing would make me so happy. 
 I must see the rice field ; I will go to-day." 
 
 Coora tidied the cottage, putting everything in 
 its place and making it look as beautiful as she 
 could. Then she took up the little sister who had 
 
 141 
 
THE CURIOUS BOOK OF BIRDS 
 
 fallen asleep on the floor, and kissing her tenderly 
 placed her in the hammock which swung from 
 wall to wall of the hut. Lastly Coora took off the 
 golden bracelets and earrings and the tinkling 
 anklets which she wore like other little Malay 
 girls, and left them in a shining heap behind the 
 door. But she kept her necklace about her pretty 
 little neck. 
 
 Now Coora had learned a little magic from a 
 witch, just enough magic to serve her turn. She 
 went out and picked two palm leaves which she 
 fastened on her shoulders and changed herself into 
 a bird, a bright, beautiful Ground-Pigeon, with 
 many-colored metallic feathers. But the necklace 
 still made a band about her pretty little neck, as 
 you may see on every Ground-Pigeon to this 
 day. 
 
 Coora the Ground-Pigeon fluttered away 
 through the forest until she came to the rice 
 plantation where her parents were at work. She 
 alighted on a dead tree close by them and called 
 out, "Mother, O Mother! I have left my ear- 
 rings and bracelets behind the door and have put 
 my little sister in the hammock." 
 
 Astonished at these words her mother looked 
 up, but saw no one, only a Ground-Pigeon 
 perched on the tree over her head. "Father," 
 
 142 
 
THE GROUND-PIGEON 
 
 she cried to her husband who was at work beside 
 her, " did you not hear Coora's voice just now ? " 
 
 "Yes, I thought so," answered the father an- 
 grily. " The wicked girl must have disobeyed me 
 and have followed us here after all. I will punish 
 her if this is so." They called to her, "Coora, 
 Coora ! " until the forest reechoed. But no one 
 appeared or answered. 
 
 " I will go home and see if she is there," said 
 the mother. " Either I heard Coora speak or there 
 is some magic in the forest." And she hastened 
 back to the cottage. There she found the baby in 
 the hammock and the bracelets and earrings in a 
 shining heap behind the door, as the voice had 
 said, but there was no Coora anywhere. Surprised 
 and anxious, once more the mother ran back to 
 the plantation. 
 
 " Coora is gone, husband ! " she cried. " It 
 must have been her own voice which we heard 
 just now. Hark ! She speaks again ! " 
 
 Again from the tree they heard a sweet voice 
 calling, " Mother, O Mother, I have left my 
 earrings and bracelets behind the door and my 
 little sister in the hammock. Good-by, Coo-o- 
 o-ra ! " As she spoke her own name Coora's voice 
 warbled and crooned into the soft coo of a Ground- 
 Pigeon's note, and her parents glancing up saw 
 
 '43 
 
THE CURIOUS BOOK OF BIRDS 
 
 that this bird must be their child, their Coora, 
 magically changed. 
 
 " Let us cut down the tree and catch the wicked 
 girl ! " cried the father. And seizing his axe he 
 chopped away lustily until the tree fell with a 
 crash. But even at that moment the Pigeon flut- 
 tered away to another tree, crooning again the 
 soft syllables which she has spoken ever since, 
 " Coo-ra, coo-ra, coo ! " 
 
 From tree to tree about the rice plantation the 
 distracted parents pursued the Pigeon ; but it was 
 in vain to try to capture her. Ever she escaped 
 them when they seemed about to lay hands upon 
 her soft feathers. After following her flight for 
 many miles they were obliged to return home, sad 
 and sorry and repentant. For they knew now 
 that it was their own unkindness and their broken 
 promises which had driven their daughter away 
 from the cottage, never to return. 
 
 The beautiful Ground-Pigeon still lingers near 
 the rice plantations which she had so longed to 
 visit. Still she plaintively calls her name, and still 
 she wears the necklace about her pretty little neck. 
 And the little Malay maidens love her very dearly 
 because she was once a girl like them. 
 
 144 
 
SISTER HEN AND THE CROCODILE 
 
 (HE Crocodile is one of the hungriest 
 bodies that ever lived. When he is 
 looking for a dinner he will eat almost 
 anything that comes within reach. 
 Sometimes the greedy fellow swallows great stones 
 and chunks of wood, in his hurry mistaking them 
 for something more digestible. And when he is 
 smacking his great jaws over his food he makes 
 such a greedy, terrible noise that the other animals 
 steal away nervously and hide until it shall be 
 Master Crocodile's sleepy-time. He is too lazy to 
 waddle in search of a dinner far from the river 
 where he lives. But any animal or even a man- 
 swimmer had best be careful how he ventures into 
 the water near the Crocodile's haunts. For what 
 seems to be a greenish-brown, knobby log of wood 
 floating on the water, has little bright eyes which 
 are on the lookout for anything which moves. 
 And below the water two great jaws are ready to 
 open and swallow in the prey of Mr. Hungry- 
 Mouth. 
 
 But no matter how hungry the Crocodile may be, 
 H5 
 
THE CURIOUS BOOK OF BIRDS 
 
 he will not touch the Hen, even if she should ven- 
 ture into his very jaws ; at least, that is what the 
 Black Men of the Congo River will tell you. And 
 surely, as they are the nearest neighbors of the big 
 reptile they ought to know if any one does. Now 
 this is the story which they tell to explain why the 
 Crocodile will not eat the Hen. 
 
 Once upon a time there was a Hen, a common, 
 plump, clucky mother Hen, who used every day 
 to go down to the river and pick up bits of food 
 on the moist banks, where luscious insects were 
 many. She did not know that this Congo River 
 was the home of the Crocodile, the biggest, fiercest, 
 scaliest, hungriest Crocodile in all Africa. But one 
 day when she went down to the water as usual she 
 hopped out onto what looked like a mossy log, say- 
 ing to herself: 
 
 " Aha ! This is a fine old timber-house. It is full 
 of juicy bugs, I know. I shall have a great feast ! " 
 
 Tap-tap ! Pick-pick ! The Hen began to scratch 
 and peck upon the rough bark of the log, but Oh 
 dear me ! suddenly she began to feel very seasick. 
 The log was rolling over ! The log was teetering 
 up on end like a boat in a storm ! And before she 
 knew what was really happening the poor Hen 
 found herself floundering in the water in the very 
 jaws of the terrible Crocodile. 
 
 146 
 
SISTER HEN AND THE CROCODILE 
 
 " Ha, ha ! " cried the Crocodile in his harsh voice. 
 " You took me for a log, just as the other silly 
 creatures do. But I am no log, Mrs. Hen, as you 
 shall soon see. I am Hungry Crocodile, and you 
 will make the fifth dinner which I have had this 
 evening." 
 
 The Hen was frightened almost to death, but 
 she kept her presence of mind and gasped franti- 
 cally as she saw the great jaws opening to swallow 
 her : 
 
 "O Brother, don't!" 
 
 Now the Crocodile was so surprised at hearing 
 the Hen call him Brother that he kept his jaws 
 wide open and forgot to swallow his dinner. He 
 kept them open for some time, gaping foolishly, 
 wondering what the Hen could mean, and how he 
 could possibly be her brother. And by the time 
 he had remembered how hungry he was, there 
 was nothing for him to eat. For the Hen had 
 skipped away just as fast as her feet would take 
 her. 
 
 "Pouf!" snorted the Crocodile. "Her brother, 
 indeed ! I am not her brother, and she knows it 
 very well. What a fool I was to be caught by 
 such a word ! Just wait till I catch her again and 
 we will see. I will brother her ! " And he swam 
 sulkily away to hide his mortification in the Congo 
 
 H7 
 
THE CURIOUS BOOK OF BIRDS 
 
 mud, with only the end of his long nose poking 
 out as a ventilator for his breathing. 
 
 Now, though the Hen had had so narrow an es- 
 cape, it had not sufficiently taught her a lesson. A 
 few days afterwards once more she went down to 
 the river, for she could not resist the temptation 
 of the bug-dinner which she knew she should find 
 there. But she kept her eyes open sharply for any 
 greeny log which might be floating on the water, 
 saying to herself, " Old Hungry-Mouth shall not 
 catch me napping this time. I know his wicked 
 tricks ! " 
 
 But this time the Crocodile was not floating on 
 the water like a greeny log. He was lying still as 
 still, sunning himself on the river bank behind 
 some tall reeds. Mrs. Hen came trotting down to 
 the water, a plump and tempting sight, cocking 
 her head knowingly on one side as she spied a 
 real log floating out beyond, which she took to 
 be her enemy. And as she scratched in the soft 
 mud, chuckling to think how sly she was, with 
 a rush and a rustle down pounced the Crocodile 
 upon her, and once more, before she knew it, she 
 found herself in the horrid gateway of his jaws, 
 threatened by the double rows of long, white 
 teeth. 
 
 " Oho ! " snapped the Crocodile. " You shall not 
 148 
 
O Brother, don't !" 
 
SISTER HEN AND THE CROCODILE 
 
 escape me this time. I am a log, am I ? Look 
 at me again, Mrs. Hen. Am I a log *? " And he 
 came at her to swallow her at once. 
 
 But again the Hen squawked, " O Brother, 
 don't ! " 
 
 Again the Crocodile paused, thunderstruck by 
 this extraordinary word. " Oh, bother the Hen ! " 
 he cried, " what can she mean, really ? How can 
 I be her brother? She lives in a town on the 
 land, and I live in my kingdom of mud and 
 water. How could two creatures possibly be more 
 unlike *? How " but while he had been think- 
 ing of these hows, once more the Hen had managed 
 to escape, and was pelting back to her barnyard 
 as fast as she could go. 
 
 Then indeed the Crocodile was angry. He de- 
 termined to go and see Nzambi, the wise witch 
 princess, about the matter. She would tell him 
 what it all meant. But it was a long journey to 
 her palace and he was awkward and slow in trav- 
 eling upon land. Before he had gone very far he 
 was tired and out of breath, and stopped to rest 
 under a banana tree. 
 
 As he lay panting in the shade he saw his friend 
 Mbambi, the great Lizard, hurrying past through 
 the jungle. 
 
 "Oh, Mbambi!" cried old Hungry-Mouth, 
 149 
 
THE CURIOUS BOOK OF BIRDS 
 
 " stop a moment. I want to speak with you. I 
 am in great trouble." 
 
 So the Lizard drew near, wagging her head 
 wisely, for it pleased her to be consulted by the 
 big Crocodile. "What can it be, dear friend, 
 that is troubling you this day *? " she said amiably. 
 "Surely, no one would be so rude or rash as to 
 offend the King of Congo River. But tell me your 
 trouble and perhaps I can advise you." 
 
 " Listen to me, then," said the Crocodile. " Al- 
 most every day a nice fat Hen, Oh, Mbambi ! 
 so delightfully fat and tempting ! comes to my 
 river to feed. AVell, why don't I make her my 
 dinner ? you ask. Now hearken : each time, just 
 as I am about to catch her and carry her to my 
 home she startles me by calling me ' Brother' Did 
 you ever hear of anything so maddening ? Twice 
 I have let her escape because of the word. But I 
 can stand it no longer, and I am on the way to 
 Princess Nzambi to hold a palaver about it." (By 
 "palaver" the slangy Crocodile meant a long, 
 serious talk.) 
 
 " Silly idiot ! " cried the Mbambi, not very 
 politely. "Do nothing of the kind. You will 
 only get the worst of the palaver and show your 
 ignorance before the wise Nzambi. Now listen 
 to me. Don't you know, dear Crocodile, that the 
 
 150 
 
SISTER HEN AND THE CROCODILE 
 
 Duck lives on the water, though she is neither a 
 fish nor a reptile ? And the Duck lays eggs. The 
 Turtle does the same, though she is no bird. The 
 Hen lays eggs, just as I do ; and I am Mbambi, 
 the great Lizard. As for you, dear old Hungry- 
 Mouth, you know that at this moment" here 
 she whispered discreetly, looking around to see 
 that no one was listening, " at this moment in a 
 snug nest dug out of the sand on the banks of the 
 Congo, Mrs. Crocodile has covered with leaves to 
 hide them from your enemies sixty smooth white 
 eggs. And in a few weeks out of these will 
 scamper sixty little wiggly Crocodiles, your dear, 
 homely, scaly, hungry-mouthed children. Yes, we 
 all lay eggs, my silly friend, and so in a sense we 
 are all brothers, as the Hen has said." 
 
 " Sh ! " whispered the Crocodile, nervously. 
 " Don't mention those eggs of mine, I beg of you. 
 Some one might overhear. What you say is un- 
 doubtedly true," he added pensively, after think- 
 ing a few moments. " Then I suppose I must 
 give up my tempting dinner of Hen. I cannot 
 eat my Sister, can I ? " 
 
 " Of course you cannot," said the Mbambi, as 
 he rustled away through the jungle. " We can't 
 have everything we want in this world." 
 
 " No, I see we cannot," sighed the Crocodile, 
 
THE CURIOUS BOOK OF BIRDS 
 
 as he waddled back towards the banks of the 
 Congo. Now in the same old spot he found the 
 Hen, who had been improving his absence by 
 greedily stuffing herself on beetle-bugs, flies, and 
 mosquitoes until she was so fat that she could not 
 run away at the Crocodile's approach. She could 
 only stand and squawk feebly, fluttering her ridicu- 
 lous wings. 
 
 But the Crocodile only said, "Good evening, 
 Sister," very politely, and passing her by with a 
 wag of his enormous tail sank with a plop into 
 the waters of the Congo. 
 
 And ever since that time the Hen has eaten her 
 dinner in tranquil peace, undisturbed by the sight 
 of floating log or basking shape of knobby green. 
 For she knows that old Hungry-Mouth will not 
 eat his Sister, the Hen. 
 
 '52 
 
THE THRUSH AND THE CUCKOO 
 
 |N the wonderful days of old it is said 
 that Christ and Saint Peter went to- 
 gether upon a journey. It was a beau- 
 tiful day in March, and the earth was 
 just beginning to put on her summer gorgeous- 
 ness. As the two travelers were passing near a great 
 forest they spied a Thrush sitting on a tree singing 
 and singing as hard as he could. And he cocked 
 his head as if he was very proud of something. 
 
 Saint Peter stopped at the foot of the tree and 
 said, " I wish you a good day, Thrush ! " 
 
 " I have no time to thank you," chirped the 
 Thrush pertly. 
 
 " Why not, pretty Thrush ? " asked Saint Peter 
 in surprise. " You have all the time in the world 
 and nothing to do but sing." 
 
 " You mistake," cried the Thrush. " I am mak- 
 ing the summer ! It is I, I, I who make the green 
 grass grow and the flowers bud. Look, how even 
 now the world is growing beautiful in answer to my 
 song." And the conceited little bird continued to 
 warble as hard as he could, 
 
THE CURIOUS BOOK OF BIRDS 
 
 " To-day I shall marry, I and no other ! 
 To-morrow my brother.** 
 
 Christ and Saint Peter looked at each other and 
 smiled, then went upon their way without another 
 word, leaving the Thrush to continue his task, of 
 making the summer. 
 
 This was in the morning. But before midday 
 the clouds gathered and the sky darkened, and 
 at noon a cold rain began to drip. The poor 
 Thrush ceased his jubilant song and began to 
 shiver in the March wind. By night the snow 
 was falling thick and fast, and where there had 
 been a green carpet on the earth was now spread 
 a coverlet of snowy white. Shivering and like to 
 die of cold the Thrush took refuge under the tree 
 in the moss and dead leaves. He thought no 
 more of his marriage, nor of his brother's, but only 
 of the danger which threatened him, and of the 
 discomfort. 
 
 The next morning Christ and Saint Peter, plod- 
 ding through the snow-drifts, came upon him again, 
 and Saint Peter said as before, " I wish you good 
 day, Thrush." 
 
 " Thank you," answered the Thrush humbly, and 
 his voice was shaky with cold and sorrow. 
 
 " What do you here on the cold ground, O 
 Thrush-who-make-the-summer, and why are you 
 
THE THRUSH AND THE CUCKOO 
 
 so sad? " asked Saint Peter. And the Thrush piped 
 feebly, 
 
 " To-day I must die, I and no other ! 
 To-morrow my brother." 
 
 "O foolish little bird," said Saint Peter. " You 
 boasted that you made the summer. But see ! 
 The Lord's will has sent us back to the middle of 
 winter, to punish your boasting. You shall not 
 die, he will send the sun again to warm you. But 
 hereafter beware how you take too much credit 
 for your little efforts." 
 
 Since that time March has ever been a treach- 
 erous and a changeful month. Then the Thrush 
 thinks not of marriage, but of his lesson learned 
 in past days, and wraps himself in his warmest 
 feathers, waiting for the Lord's will to be done. 
 He is no longer boastful in his song, but sings it 
 humbly and sweetly to the Lord's glory, thanking 
 him 'for the summer which his goodness sends every 
 year to happy bird and beast and child of man. 
 
 Now after this adventure with the Thrush, 
 Christ and Saint Peter went upon their journey 
 for many miles. At last, weary and hungry, they 
 passed a Baker's shop. From the window came 
 the smell of new warm bread baking in the oven, 
 and Christ sent Saint Peter to ask the Baker for a 
 
THE CURIOUS BOOK OF BIRDS 
 
 loaf But the Baker, who was a stingy fellow, re- 
 fused. 
 
 " Go away with you ! " he cried. " I give no 
 bread to lazy beggars ! " 
 
 " I ask it for my Master, who has traveled many 
 miles and is most faint and weary," said Saint 
 Peter. But the Baker frowned and shook his head, 
 then strode into the inner shop, banging the door 
 after him. 
 
 The Baker's wife and six daughters were 
 standing at one side when these things happened, 
 and they heard all that took place. They were 
 generous and kind-hearted bodies, and tears stood 
 in their eyes at the Baker's rough words. As soon 
 as he had gone out they wrapped up the loaf and 
 gave it stealthily to Saint Peter saying, 
 
 " Take the loaf for your Master, good man, and 
 may he be refreshed by it." 
 
 Saint Peter thanked and blessed them and took 
 the loaf to Christ. And for their charity the Lord 
 set these good women in the sky as the Seven 
 Stars, you may see them to this day shining in 
 love upon the sleeping world. But the wicked 
 Baker he changed into a Cuckoo ; and as long as 
 he sings his dreary song, " Coo-coo ! Coo-coo ! " 
 in the spring, so long the Seven Stars are visible 
 in the heaven, so folk say. 
 
 156 
 
THE OWL AND THE MOON 
 
 [HEN the moon is round and full, if 
 you look very carefully at the golden 
 disk you can see in shadowy outline 
 the profile of a beautiful lady. She is 
 leaning forward as if looking down upon our 
 earth, and there is a little smile upon her sweet 
 lips. This fair dame is Putri Balan, the Princess 
 of the Moon, and she smiles because she remem- 
 bers how once upon a time she cheated old Mr. 
 Owl, her tiresome lover. 
 
 Putri Balan, so they tell you in Malay, was 
 always very, very beautiful, as we see her now. 
 Like all the Malay women, Putri Balan loved 
 to chew the spicy betel-nut which turns one's lips 
 a bright scarlet. It is better, so they say, than any 
 kind of candy, and it is considered much nicer 
 and more respectable than chewing-gum. So 
 Putri Balan was not unladylike, although she 
 chewed her betel-nut all night long. 
 
 Now, ever since the day when Mr. Owl care- 
 lessly let the naughty little Wren escape from 
 prison, the shamed and sorry old fellow had 
 
 '57 
 
THE CURIOUS BOOK OF BIRDS 
 
 never dared to show his face abroad in daylight. 
 Gradually his eyes grew blurred and blinky, till 
 now he could not see anything by day, even if he 
 were to try. 
 
 So it happens that there are many delightful 
 things about which old Mr. Owl does not know, 
 things which take place while the beautiful sun 
 is shining. But also there are marvelous sights, 
 unknown to early-sleeping birds, which he enjoys 
 all by himself. For at night his queer eyes are 
 wonderfully strong and bright. All day long he 
 sits in his hollow tree, but when the other feathered 
 folk are drowsing upon their roosts, or are snugly 
 rolled up in their little nests, with their heads 
 tucked under their downy wings, old Mr. Owl 
 puts on his round spectacles and goes a-prowl- 
 ing up and down the world through the woods 
 and meadows (like Haroun-al-Rashid in the 
 streets of Bagdad), spying all sorts of queer 
 doings. 
 
 And this is how old Mr. Owl happened to see 
 the fair Princess Putri Balan, smiling down from 
 her moon upon the sleeping world of birds who 
 had never seen her and never would see her in all 
 her loveliness. 
 
 How beautiful she was ! How bright and won- 
 derful! Old Mr. Owl stared up in wide-eyed 
 
 158 
 
THE OWL AND THE MOON 
 
 astonishment, and then and there fell in love with 
 her, and resolved to ask her to be his wife. 
 
 Cramming on his spectacles more tightly and 
 ruffling the feathers about his neck, he flew up and 
 up and up, as high as ever he dared to go, until he 
 was within hailing distance of the moon. Then 
 he called out in his softest tones, which were 
 harsh enough to any ears, 
 
 "O fair Moon-Maiden, O beautiful Princess, 
 will you marry me *? For I love you very dearly." 
 
 The Princess Putri Balan stopped chewing her 
 betel-nut for a moment and looked down to see 
 what daring creature might thus be addressing 
 her. Soon she spied Mr. Owl with his goggle- 
 eyes looking up at her adoringly. He was such a 
 ridiculous old creature, and his spectacles glinted 
 so queerly in the moonlight, that Putri Balan 
 began to laugh and answered him not at all. 
 She laughed so hard that she almost swallowed 
 her betel-nut, which might have been a serious 
 matter. 
 
 Mr. Owl continued to stare, for he saw nothing 
 funny in the situation. Again he repeated in his 
 hoarse voice, " O fair Moon-Maiden, O beautiful 
 Princess, will you marry me *? For I love you very 
 dearly." 
 
 Again the Princess laughed, for she thought it 
 '59 
 
THE CURIOUS BOOK OF BIRDS 
 
 a tremendous joke ; and again she nearly choked. 
 Mr. Owl waited, but she made him no other an- 
 swer. However, he was a persistent lover. All 
 night long he went on asking the same question, 
 over and over again, until the Princess Putri 
 Balan was quite worn out trying not to choke 
 with laughter while she chewed the betel-nut. At 
 last she said impatiently, 
 
 " O Mr. Goggle-Eyes ! Do give me a moment's 
 peace! You make me laugh so that I cannot 
 chew my betel-nut. Yes, I will say yes, if you 
 will only leave me to finish my betel-nut undis- 
 turbed. I will marry you. But you must go away 
 until I have quite done." 
 
 Then Mr. Owl was filled with joy. " Thanks, 
 thanks, O most gracious lady ! " he said. " I will 
 go away and leave you to finish your betel-nut 
 undisturbed. But I shall come again to-morrow 
 night, and by that time you will have done with 
 it, and then you will be mine !" 
 
 Mr. Owl flew back to his home in the hollow 
 tree, for it was almost morning, and already he 
 was growing so blind that he could hardly find 
 the way. But the Princess Putri Balan went on 
 chewing the betel-nut, and to herself she said, 
 
 " How am I to rid myself of this bore ? I can- 
 not chew this little betel-nut forever ; there must 
 
 1 60 
 
Putri Balan began to laugh 
 
THE OWL AND THE MOON 
 
 be an end to it before long. Mr. Owl will cer- 
 tainly come again to-morrow night, and then, ac- 
 cording to my promise, I must become his wife. 
 I cannot marry old Goggle-Eyes. Oh dear ! What 
 shall I do?" 
 
 As she chewed her betel-nut the Princess Putri 
 Balan hit upon a plan. She would manage to cheat 
 old Mr. Owl after all. She would never finish the 
 betel-nut ! She took the little bit that remained, 
 and it was a dangerously little bit, for the Prin- 
 cess had been chewing all night long, except 
 when she was laughing, and reaching out from 
 the moon she tossed it down, down, down upon the 
 earth. At the same time she said a magic moon- 
 charm: and when the bit of betel-nut reached 
 the earth, it became a little bird, the same which 
 the Malay people call the Honey Bird, with bril- 
 liant, beautiful plumage. And the Princess Putri 
 Balan cried out to it from her golden house, 
 
 " Fly away, pretty little bright bird ! Fly as 
 far and as fast as ever you can, and keep out of 
 Mr. Owl's way. For it is you who must save me 
 from becoming his unhappy wife." 
 
 So the Honey Bird flew away, a brilliant streak, 
 through the Malay woods, and hid himself in a 
 little nest. 
 
 When night came out stole Mr. Owl, with his 
 161 
 
THE CURIOUS BOOK OF BIRDS 
 
 spectacles in place, and up he flew to his Princess, 
 whom he now hoped to call his very own. 
 
 " Good evening, my beautiful Princess ! " he 
 cried. " Have you finished your betel-nut at last, 
 and are you ready to keep your promise ? " 
 
 But the Princess Putri Balan looked down at 
 him, pretending to be sad, though there was a 
 twinkle in her beautiful eye ; and she said, 
 
 "Alas! Mr. Owl, a dreadful thing has hap- 
 pened. I lost my betel-nut, before it was quite 
 finished. It fell down, down, down, until I think 
 it reached the earth. And I cannot marry you, 
 according to my promise, until it is finished." 
 
 " Then it must be found ! " cried Mr. Owl. " I 
 will find it. My eyes are sharp at night and no- 
 thing escapes them. Shine kindly on me, Princess, 
 and I will find the betel-nut for you, and you 
 shall yet be mine." 
 
 " Go then, Mr. Owl," said the Princess, smiling 
 to herself. " Go and look for the betel-nut which 
 I must finish before I marry you. Search carefully 
 and you may find it soon." 
 
 Poor Mr. Owl searched carefully, but he could 
 not find the bit of betel-nut. Of course he could 
 not find it, when it had changed and flown away 
 as a beautiful, many-colored bird ! All that night 
 he sought, till the sun sent him blinking to his 
 
 162 
 
THE OWL AND THE MOON 
 
 tree. And all the next night he sought, and the 
 next, and the next. And he kept on seeking for 
 days and months and years, while the Princess 
 Putri Balan smiled down upon him and was 
 happy at heart because of her clever scheme. 
 
 Old Mr. Owl never found out the trick, nor 
 suspected the innocent little Honey Bird, whom 
 indeed he scarcely ever saw, because it was a sun- 
 set-sleeping bird, while he was a wistful, lonely, sad 
 night-prowler. Up and down, up and down the 
 world he goes, still looking for the betel-nut of 
 the Princess Putri Balan, which he will never find. 
 And as he flies in the moonlight he glances ever 
 longingly at the beautiful lady in the moon, and 
 sobs " Hoo-hoo ! Hoo-hoo ! " in grief and despair. 
 For after all these centuries he begins to fear that 
 she will never be his wife. 
 
THE TUFTED CAP. 
 
 |NE dark night Master Owl left his 
 hollow tree and went prowling about 
 the world as usual upon his hopeless 
 hunt for the Princess's betel-nut. As 
 soon as he was out of hearing a long, lean, hun- 
 gry Rat crept to the house and stole the dainties 
 which the lonely old bachelor had stored away for 
 the morrow's dinner. The thief dragged them 
 away to his own hole and had a splendid feast 
 with his wife and little ones. But the Owl re- 
 turned sooner than the Rat had expected, and by 
 the crumbs which he had dropped upon the way 
 tracked him to the hole. 
 
 "Come out, thief!" cried the Owl, "or I will 
 surely kill you. Come out and return to me my 
 morrow's dinner." The Rat trembled with fear at 
 these threatening words. 
 
 " Alas ! " he squeaked, " I cannot do that, for 
 already the dinner is eaten. My wife and hungry 
 little ones have eaten it. Pity us, for we were 
 starving ! " 
 
 " Bah ! " screamed the Owl, " I care little for 
 164 
 
THE TUFTED CAP 
 
 that. It is for my dinner alone that I care. Since 
 you have eaten it you shall certainly die," and he 
 began to scratch fiercely at the mouth of the 
 hole. The Rat trembled more than ever. But 
 suddenly he had an idea which made ,his whiskers 
 twitch. 
 
 " Hold ! " he cried. " Dear, good Master Owl, 
 permit me to live and I will give you something 
 which is worth many dinners, something that 
 men-creatures value very highly, and which with 
 great labor and pain I brought away from one 
 of their dens." 
 
 "Umph!" grumbled the Owl. "Let us see 
 what it is." 
 
 The Rat crawled timidly out of his hole with 
 the peace-offering ; and what do you think it 
 was? Why, a gimlet! Just a plain, ordinary, 
 well-sharpened gimlet for boring holes. 
 
 " Hoo ! " cried the Owl. " I don't think much 
 of that. What is it good for ? " Now the Rat had 
 not the faintest idea as to what the gimlet really 
 was, but he had another idea instead. 
 
 "That? Why that oh, that I That is a 
 very valuable thing. It is able to give you the 
 keenest delight. I will show you how it works. 
 But you must do just as I say, or it will be of 
 
 165 
 
THE CURIOUS BOOK OF BIRDS 
 
 "Hoo!" cried the Owl. "Continue with the 
 directions." 
 
 "Well, first you must stick the thing point 
 upwards in the ground at the foot of this tree." 
 
 " Very good," said the Owl, doing as was sug- 
 gested, and waiting expectantly for the next move. 
 
 " Now you must mount to the top of the tree 
 and slide down the trunk," said the Rat solemnly. 
 Old Master Owl was certainly very far from wise 
 that night, for he obeyed the Rat's word without 
 a suspicion. He flew to the top of the tree, and 
 then, sitting back and giving a warning cry of 
 " Hoo-hoo ! " coasted down the trunk with the 
 speed of lightning. But midway down he struck 
 a knot in the tree and rolled heels over head. And 
 when he reached the ground of course he landed 
 fast upon the sharp point of the gimlet, just as 
 the Rat had planned. 
 
 With bloody head, and hooting with pain, the 
 Owl started off in pursuit of the Rat, resolved this 
 time to kill him without fail. The Rat was nim- 
 ble, and his fear added to his speed, but at last 
 the Owl caught him. Ruffled and ferocious, the 
 great bird was about to tear him in pieces, when 
 the Rat once more begged his life. 
 
 " It was only a joke," he cried. " Only a silly 
 joke. Spare me this once, dear Master Owl, and 
 
 166 
 
THE TUFTED CAP 
 
 I will give you something that you really need. 
 Look at your bleeding head. You cannot go 
 about the world with that exposed. Spare my 
 life, and I will give you a lovely cap of tufted 
 feathers to hide the bite of the wicked sharp-thing- 
 made-by-man. Pray, let me go, dear Master 
 Owl." 
 
 The Owl considered for a moment, and then 
 decided to accept the bargain. For he thought of 
 Putri Balan, the Princess of the Moon, and knew 
 that he should lose his last chance to win her if 
 she happened to see him with this ridiculous wound 
 in his head. 
 
 So the Rat gave him a nice cap of tufted 
 feathers, which he wears to this day ; and the Owl 
 let the thief go free. But after that there was a 
 coolness between them, as you may well imagine. 
 
 167 
 
THE GOOD HUNTER 
 
 JNCE upon a time there was an Indian 
 who was a famous hunter. But he 
 did not hunt for fun; he took no 
 pleasure in killing the little wild crea- 
 tures, birds and beasts and fishes, and did so only 
 when it was necessary for him to have food or 
 skins for his clothing. He was a very kind and 
 generous man, and loved all the wood-creatures 
 dearly, often feeding them from his own larder, 
 and protecting them from their enemies. So the 
 animals and birds loved him as their best friend, 
 and he was known as the Good Hunter. 
 
 The Good Hunter was very brave, and often 
 went to war with the fierce savages who were the 
 enemies of his tribe. One sad day he set forth 
 with a war party, and they had a terrible battle, 
 in which the Good Hunter was slain, and his 
 enemies took away his scalp, leaving him lying 
 dead in the forest. 
 
 The Good Hunter had not remained long cold 
 and lifeless in the shadowy stillness, when the Fox 
 came trotting through the woods. " Alack and 
 
 168 
 
THE GOOD HUNTER 
 
 alas ! " cried the Fox, spying the body stretched 
 on the leaves. " Here is our dear friend, the Good 
 Hunter, slain ! Alack and alas ! what shall we do 
 now that our dear friend and protector is gone *? " 
 
 The Fox ran out into the forest crying the death 
 lament, which was the signal to all the beasts that 
 something most sorrowful had happened. Soon 
 they came flocking to the spot, all the animals of 
 the forest. By hundreds they came, and surround- 
 ing the body of their friend raised the most doleful 
 howls. For, though they rubbed him with their 
 warm noses, and licked him with their warm 
 tongues, and nestled against him with their warm 
 fur, they could not bring him back to warm life. 
 
 They called upon Brother Bear to speak and 
 tell them what to do ; for he was the nearest rela- 
 tive to man. The Bear sat up on his haunches 
 and spoke to the sad assembly with tears in his 
 eyes, begging each animal to look carefully through 
 his medicine-box and see whether there might not 
 be some balm which would restore the Good 
 Hunter to life. Then each animal looked care- 
 fully through his medicine-box of herbs and heal- 
 ing roots, bark and magic leaves, and they tried 
 every remedy that they knew. But nothing 
 brought the color to their friend's pale cheeks, nor 
 light into his eyes. He who had helped them so 
 
 169 
 
THE CURIOUS BOOK OF BIRDS 
 
 often was helpless now, and they could not aid 
 him. Again the kind beasts sank back on their 
 haunches and raised a mighty howl, a requiem for 
 the dead. 
 
 Wild and piercing and long-drawn, the sound 
 swept through the forest, such a sound of sorrow 
 as had never been heard before. The Oriole, who 
 was flying overhead, heard and was surprised. 
 Soon his brightness came flashing down through 
 the leafy boughs like a ray of sunlight into the 
 gloom and darkness of the forest. 
 
 "What has happened, O four-footed friends," 
 he asked, " that you mourn so mightily ^ " Then 
 they showed him the body of the Good Hunter 
 lying in the midst of their sad company, and the 
 Oriole joined his voice of sorrow to theirs. 
 
 " O friend of the birds," he cried, " is there no 
 bird who can aid you now, you who have fed us so 
 many times from the door of your generous wig- 
 wam ? I will call all the feathered tribes, and we 
 will do our best." 
 
 So the Oriole went forth and summoned the 
 birds to the forest council. There was a great flap- 
 ping of wings, a great twittering and chirping, 
 questioning and exclamation when the birds 
 assembled to hear the sad news. Every one was 
 there, from the tiny Humming Bird to the great 
 
 170 
 
THE GOOD HUNTER 
 
 Eagle of the Iroquois, who left his lonely eyrie to 
 pay his respects to the Good Hunter's memory. 
 The poor little birds tried everything in their 
 power to bring back to life their dear friend. 
 With beak and claw and tender wing they strove, 
 but all their efforts were in vain. Their Good 
 Hunter was dead, and his scalp was gone. 
 
 Then the great Eagle, whose head was white 
 with years of wisdom and experience, spoke to 
 the despairing assemblage of creatures. From his 
 lofty perch above the world the Eagle had looked 
 down upon centuries of change and decay. He 
 knew every force of nature and all the strange 
 things of life. The hoary-headed sage said that 
 the Good Hunter could not be restored until his 
 scalp was found. Then all the animals clamored 
 that they might be allowed to go and seek for the 
 missing scalp. But to the Fox was given this 
 honor, because he had first found the body of the 
 Good Hunter in the forest. The Fox set out upon 
 his search, in his foxy way. He visited every 
 hen-roost and every bird's-nest, but no scalp did 
 he find. " Of course not ! " screamed the birds 
 when he returned from his fruitless quest, " Of 
 course no bird has taken the Good Hunter's scalp. 
 You should have known better than that, Master 
 Fox." 
 
 171 
 
THE CURIOUS BOOK OF BIRDS 
 
 So the next time a bird was sent upon the 
 search. The Pigeon Hawk went forth, confident 
 that she should be successful. But she was in 
 such a hurry and flew so fast that she saw no- 
 thing, and she too returned without that for which 
 she sought. Then the White Heron begged that 
 he might be allowed to try. " For," said he, " you 
 all know how slowly I fly, and how careful I am 
 to see everything." 
 
 "Yes, especially if it be something good to 
 eat," chirped the saucy Jay, " do not trust him, 
 birds, he is too greedy." 
 
 Yet the Heron was allowed to go. He flapped 
 away, slowly and sedately, and the Council sat 
 down to await his return. But the Heron had not 
 gone far when he came to a field of luscious wild 
 beans ; and he stopped to take a mouthful or two. 
 He ate, and he ate, and he ate, the greedy fellow ! 
 until he could eat no more. And then he was 
 sleepy, so that he slept and slept and slept. And 
 when he awoke he was so hungry that he fell to 
 eating again, while the Council waited and won- 
 dered and waited. At last they grew impatient and 
 began to suspect that the Jay had been right, which 
 was indeed the case. They decided to wait no 
 longer for the Heron, who did not return. Then the 
 Crow stepped forward and said, "Let me go, I 
 
 172 
 
THE GOOD HUNTER 
 
 pray you, for I think I know where the scalp may 
 be found ; not in the nest of a bird, not in the den 
 of any animal, not in the watery haunt of a fish. For 
 all the creatures of earth, air, and water are friends 
 of the Good Hunter. It is men who are most 
 cruel to men : therefore in the tents of men must 
 we look for the missing scalp. Let me go to seek 
 it there, for men are used to see me flying near 
 and will not suspect why I come." 
 
 The Crow flew forth upon his errand, and be- 
 fore long came to the wigwam where lived the 
 warrior who had slain the Good Hunter. And 
 sure enough, there, outside the tent, was the scalp 
 of the Good Hunter, stretched on a pole to dry. 
 The Crow flew near, and the warrior saw him, but 
 thought nothing of it, for he was used to seeing 
 crows about the camp. Presently when no one 
 was looking the skillful thief managed to steal the 
 scalp, and away he flew with it to the Council in the 
 forest. Great was the rejoicing of the birds and 
 beasts when they saw that the Crow had been suc- 
 cessful, and they said more kind things to him 
 than he had heard for many moons. At once they 
 put the scalp upon the Good Hunter's head, but 
 it had grown so dry in the smoke of the warrior's 
 wigwam that it would not fit. Here was a new 
 trouble. What was to be done to make the scalp 
 
THE CURIOUS BOOK OF BIRDS 
 
 soft and flexible once more ? The animals did their 
 best, but their efforts were of no avail. 
 
 Once more the great Eagle came forward and 
 bade them listen. 
 
 " My children," he said, " my wings are never 
 furled. Night and day for hundreds of years the 
 dews of heaven have been collecting upon my 
 back as I sit on my throne above the clouds. Per- 
 haps this dew may have a healing power such as 
 no earthly fountain holds. We will see." 
 
 Gravely the Eagle plucked a long feather, and 
 dipping it in the dew which moistened his plum- 
 age, applied it to the stiffened scalp. Immediately 
 it became soft, and could be fitted to the head 
 of the Good Hunter closely as when it had first 
 grown there. The birds and animals hurried away 
 and brought leaves and flowers, bark and ber- 
 ries and roots, which they made into a mighty 
 healing balsam to bathe the poor head which had 
 been so cruelly treated. And presently great was 
 their joy to see a soft color come into the pale 
 cheeks of the Good Hunter, and light into his 
 eyes. He breathed, he stirred, he sat up and 
 looked around him in surprise. 
 
 "Where am I ? What has happened?" he 
 asked. 
 
 "You slept and your friends have wakened 
 
THE GOOD HUNTER 
 
 you," said the great Eagle tenderly. Stand up, 
 Good Hunter, that they may see you walk once 
 more." 
 
 The Good Hunter stood up and walked, rather 
 unsteadily at first, back to his own wigwam, fol- 
 lowed by a great company of happy forest crea- 
 tures, who made the sky ring with their noises of 
 rejoicing. And long, long after that, the Good 
 Hunter lived to love and protect them. 
 
 175 
 
THE COURTSHIP OF MR. STORK AND 
 MISS HERON. 
 
 'HIS is a very good story to read at 
 night just before going to sleep. 
 And if you ask why, I must only 
 tell you that you will find out before 
 you reach the end of the tale. 
 
 There was once a Heron, a pretty, long-legged, 
 slender lady Heron, who lived in the mushy- 
 squshy, wady-shady swamp. The lady Heron 
 lived in her swamp all alone, earning her living 
 by catching little fish ; and she was very happy, 
 never dreaming that she was lonesome, for no one 
 had told her what lonesome was. She loved to 
 go wading in the cool waters ; she loved to catch 
 the little fish who swam by unsuspectingly while 
 she stood still upon one leg pretending to think 
 about something a thousand miles away. And she 
 loved to look at her slender, long-legged blue re- 
 flection in the water ; for the lady Heron was just 
 a little bit vain. 
 
 Now one day Mr. Stork came flying over the 
 176 
 
MR. STORK AND MISS HERON 
 
 mushy-squshy, wady-shady swamp where the 
 Heron lived, and he too saw the reflection in 
 the water. And he said to himself, " My ! How 
 pretty she is ! I wonder I never noticed her be- 
 fore. And how lonesome she must be there all by 
 herself in such a nasty, moist, mushy-squshy old 
 swamp ! I will invite her to come and share my 
 nice, warm, dry nest on the chimney-top. For to 
 tell the truth, I am growing lonely up there all by 
 myself. Why should we not make a match of it, 
 we two long-legged creatures ? " 
 
 Mr. Stork went home to his house, which he 
 set prettily in order : for he never dreamed but 
 that the lady Heron would accept his offer at the 
 very first croak. He preened his feathers and 
 made himself as lovely as he could, and forthwith 
 off he flew with his long legs dangling, straight to 
 the wady-shady swamp where Miss Heron was 
 standing on one leg waiting for her supper to get 
 itself caught. 
 
 "Ahem!" croaked Mr. Stork, waving his 
 wing politely. " Good evening, Miss Heron. Fine 
 weather we are having, eh? But how horribly 
 moist it is down here ! I should think that your 
 nice straight legs would grow crooked with rheu- 
 matism. Now I have a comfortable, dry house on 
 the roof. " 
 
 177 
 
THE CURIOUS BOOK OF BIRDS 
 
 "Pouf!" grunted Miss Heron disdainfully. 
 
 But Mr. Stork pretended not to hear, and went 
 on with his remarks, "a nice dry house which I 
 should be glad to have you share with me. Come, 
 Miss Heron ! Here I am a lonely old bachelor, 
 and here are you a lonely old maid " 
 
 " Lonely old maid, indeed ! " screamed the 
 Heron interrupting him. " I don't know what it 
 is to be lonely. Go along with you ! " and she 
 splashed water on him with her wings, she was so 
 indignant. 
 
 Poor Mr. Stork felt very crestfallen at this re- 
 ception of his well-meaning invitation. He turned 
 about and stalked away towards his nest upon the 
 roof, without so much as saying good-by to the 
 lady. 
 
 But no sooner was he out of sight than Miss 
 Heron began to think. He had said that she was 
 lonely ; was she lonely *? Well, perhaps he ought 
 to know better than she, for he was a very wise 
 bird. Perhaps she was lonely, now that she came 
 to think of it. However, there was no reason why 
 she should go to live in that stupid, dry, old nest 
 on the house-top. Why could he not come to 
 dwell in her lovely, mushy-squshy, wady-shady 
 swamp ? That would be very pleasant, for he was 
 a good sort of fellow with nice long legs ; and 
 
 178 
 
MR. STORK AND MISS HERON 
 
 there were fish enough in the water for two. Be- 
 sides, he could then do the fishing for the family ; 
 and, moreover, there would then be two to admire 
 her reflection in the water. Yes; her mind was 
 made up. She would invite him. She glanced 
 down at her reflection and settled some of the 
 feathers which her fit of temper had ruffled out of 
 order. Then off she started in pursuit of Mr. 
 Stork. 
 
 Mr. Stork had not gone very far, for a sad, re- 
 jected lover is a dawdling creature. And so she 
 came up with him long before he was in sight of 
 his nest. 
 
 " Good evening, Mr. Stork," said the lady ner- 
 vously. "I I have been thinking over what you 
 said to me just now, and I have concluded that 
 perhaps I was a bit hasty. To tell you the truth, 
 sir, I am a trifle lonely, now that you suggest the 
 thought to me. And it would be very agreeable 
 to have pleasant company. I am ready, sir, to 
 agree to your proposal. But of course I cannot 
 think of changing my abode. My swamp is the 
 most beautiful home that a maiden ever knew, and 
 I could not give it up for any one. As for your 
 ugly old nest on the chimney-top, bah ! I cannot 
 endure the idea with patience." 
 
 Mr. Stork was gradually stiffening into an angry 
 179 
 
THE CURIOUS BOOK OF BIRDS 
 
 attitude, but she did not notice. " Now you can 
 come and live in my swamp," Miss Heron went 
 on warmly, "and you will be very welcome to 
 catch fish for me, and to look in my mirror. It will 
 be very nice indeed ! " 
 
 " Nice ! " croaked the Stork, " I should say as 
 much ! What can you be thinking of, Miss? 
 I to give up my comfortable home on the house- 
 top, close by the warm chimney, and go to live 
 in that disgusting mushy-squshy bog of yours ! 
 Ha-ha ! That is really too ridiculous ! I bid you 
 good morning." And with an elaborate bow he 
 turned his back and flew away. 
 
 Miss Heron flounced back to her swamp, mor- 
 tified because she had left it to propose terms to 
 so ungallant a fellow. But hardly had she begun 
 her tardy supper when once more Mr. Stork's 
 shadow darkened the mirror before her, and once 
 more she heard his apologetic croak. 
 
 " Ahem, ahem ! " he began. " I hope I find you 
 well, Miss Heron *? I have been ha hum ! 
 considering your last most condescending words, 
 and I find that I have been hasty. You are so 
 good as to express a belief that I should make a 
 pleasant companion. So I should ! so I should ! 
 And as for you," he bowed gallantly, " one can 
 readily imagine the charm of your society. Come, 
 
 1 80 
 
MR. STORK AND MISS HERON 
 
 then, Miss Heron, why should we not make a 
 happy couple, if we can only arrange this one little 
 foolish matter ? Be my wife : come live with me 
 in my lovely nest." 
 
 But at this word Miss Heron uttered a little 
 scream and cried, " Be off with you, you villain ! 
 Leave my premises instantly ! " and she waved 
 herVings so fiercely that once more Mr. Stork 
 took to his and flapped away to his home. 
 
 Now when he had gone Miss Heron found 
 that she had been bad-tempered, and she thought 
 how pleasantly they might have arranged the 
 matter if only she had been more moderate. So 
 she spread her beautiful blue wings and flew to 
 the housetop where Mr. Stork lived, and, perching 
 on the chimney, she said, 
 
 " Oh, Mr. Stork, I was bad-tempered and im- 
 polite, and I beg your pardon. Let us be friends 
 once more. Leave this hot old stupid house-top 
 and come live in my cool, moist, wady-shady 
 swamp, and I will be your very loving little wife." 
 
 But the Stork arose in his nest, flapping his 
 wings crossly, and cried, " Be off, you baggage ! 
 Don't come here to insult my beautiful house. 
 Be off, I say, to your mushy-squshy, rheumaticky 
 bog. I want no more of you ! " 
 
 So the Heron flew back disconsolately to the 
 181 
 
THE CURIOUS BOOK OF BIRDS 
 
 watery swamp, where she began to feel very 
 lonely indeed. And the Stork, too, began to feel 
 very lonely indeed; and he was sorry that he 
 had been rude to a lady. Presently, once more he 
 came flapping to the mushy-squshy marsh, where 
 he found Miss Heron just ready to go to sleep. 
 
 " Oh, dear Miss Heron ! " he cried. " I made a 
 great mistake, and said things for which I am 
 truly sorry. Do come to be my loving wife, as 
 you promised, and we will live happily ever after 
 on the chimney-top, far above the other birds. 
 And I will never be cross again." 
 
 But the Heron answered, " Away with you ! I 
 want to go to sleep. I am tired of your croaking 
 voice. Leave me alone ! " So the Stork flew away 
 in a huff. 
 
 But the Heron could not sleep, she was so 
 lonely. So she rose, and, flying through the still 
 night air, came again to the Stork's high-built nest. 
 
 " Come, Storkie dear," she said in her sweetest 
 tone, "come home to your dear wife's house in 
 the wady-shady, mushy-squshy marsh, and I will 
 be good." 
 
 But the Stork pretended to be asleep, and only 
 snored in reply. So the Heron flew home in a 
 huff. But the Stork could not truly sleep, he was 
 so lonely. So he rose, and, flying through the 
 
 182 
 
MR. STORK AND MISS HERON 
 
 still night air, came again to the Heron's home in 
 the marsh. 
 
 "Come, my dear," he said. "Come home to 
 your dear husband's house, and I will be good." 
 
 But the Heron made no answer, pretending to 
 be asleep. So the Stork flew home in a huff. 
 But the Heron could not truly sleep, she was so 
 lonely. So she rose at break of day, and, flying 
 through the cool morning air, came again to the 
 Stork's nest. 
 
 " Come, Storkie dear," she said, " come home 
 to your dear wife's house, and I will be good." 
 
 But the Stork did not answer, he was so angry. 
 So the Heron flew home in a huff. 
 
 And if you are not asleep when you get as far 
 as this, you may go on with the story by your- 
 self, perfectly well. You may go on just as long 
 as you can keep awake. For the tale has no end, 
 no end at all. It is still going on to this very day. 
 The Stork still lives lonely on his house-top, and 
 the Heron still lives lonely in her marsh, growing 
 lonelier and lonelier, both of them. But because 
 they have no tact, they are never able to agree to 
 the same thing at the same time. And they keep 
 flying back and forth, saying the same things 
 over, and over, and over, and over. . . . 
 
THE PHCENIX 
 
 JN the top of a palm tree, in an oasis 
 of the Arabian desert, sat the Phoenix, 
 glowering moodily upon the world 
 below. He was alone, quite alone, in 
 his old age, as he had been alone in his youth, and 
 in his middle years; for the Phoenix has neither 
 mate nor children, and there is never but one of 
 his kind upon the earth. 
 
 Once he had been proud of his solitariness and 
 of his unusual beauty, which caused such wonder 
 when he went abroad. But now he was old and 
 weak and weary, and he was lonely, oh ! so lonely ! 
 He had lived too long, he thought. 
 
 For years and years and years, afar and apart, 
 he had watched the coming and going of things 
 in the world. He had seen the other birds created, 
 and had watched them undergo strange changes 
 in form and color until they became as they are 
 to-day. He had seen the hundred bright eyes of 
 Argus,' the watchman, set in the Peacock's tail. 
 He had seen the flaming heart of the volcano tamed 
 and quieted until it became the flaming little Hum- 
 
 184 
 
THE PHOENIX 
 
 ming-Bird. He had seen the Crow turn black and 
 the Goldfinch become a gaudy bird, and he knew 
 how and why all these things had come to pass. 
 For centuries, how many he knew not, he had 
 watched the birds hatch out of their little eggs, 
 flutter their feeble little wings, fly away to build 
 nests for their little mates, and finally die and dis- 
 appear as birds do, leaving no trace behind. 
 
 But the Phcenix did not die. He was of differ- 
 ent clay from these ordinary feathered creatures. 
 He was the glorious bird of the Sun, the only 
 one, the gold-and-crimson one, who when he went 
 abroad filled all creatures with awe of his beauty 
 and wisdom and mystery, so that they dared not 
 come near, but followed him afar off, hushing 
 their song and adoring silently. The Phcenix fed 
 not on flowers or fruit or disgusting insect-fry, but 
 on precious frankincense and myrrh and odorifer- 
 ous gums. And the Sun himself loved to caress 
 his plumage of gold and crimson. 
 
 As for men, they also had adored him in time 
 past, and had built temples in his honor. They 
 also were puny mortals, scarcely longer of life 
 than the birds themselves. The Phcenix had seen 
 many generations of men grow up, do good or 
 evil deeds, and die, sometimes leaving grand mon- 
 uments upon the earth, sometimes disappearing 
 
 185 
 
THE CURIOUS BOOK OF BIRDS 
 
 from knowledge like the very birds, leaving 
 scarcely a trace behind. 
 
 In his time great kings had lived and reigned 
 and turned to dust. Prophets had grown hoary, 
 said their word, and passed away, leaving no echo. 
 Poets had sung and had died singing. But the 
 Phoenix, looking down from the palms of his 
 desert, saw it all and did not die. 
 
 All this had been his pride and honor. How he 
 had enjoyed his strength, his beauty, his wisdom, 
 and the knowledge that he was honored and 
 adored by thousands who had never even seen his 
 glory ! But now, now all was changed. He was 
 grown old and tired. He felt his loneliness and he 
 longed to die. 
 
 His wings were feeble. Of late he had not dared 
 to venture far from the desert. He dreaded the 
 curious gaze of the other birds, who would find 
 his beauty dimmed, and would scorn, perchance, 
 the faded glory which they had once held in awe. 
 For years he had not ventured within sight of 
 men, and he knew that most of them had forgot- 
 ten his existence, nay, even denied that he had 
 ever lived. He feared that there might not be a 
 single heart in all the world that thrilled to his 
 name. 
 
 Thinking thus mournfully, the Phoenix sat upon 
 1 86 
 
THE PHCENIX 
 
 the top of the tallest palm. His plumage of crim- 
 son and gold glowed in the last rays of the setting 
 sun. His head was drooping, and his eye lustre- 
 less. The joy of life was gone. Slowly the Sun 
 sank towards the horizon, a red eye fixed upon 
 the Phoenix steadily. Suddenly across the gray 
 waste of sand dotted a beam of light, intensely 
 bright. A single ray from that watchful Eye 
 seemed to flame as it reached the palm tree and 
 pierced to the very heart of the Phoenix. A thrill 
 ran through his body. He drew himself together, 
 and his eye gleamed with new lustre as he fixed 
 it steadily upon the dazzling disk just touching 
 the horizon. Dark stood the palm against the 
 desert, but the Phoenix was bathed in sudden light- 
 It was the signal, the signal for which he had been 
 waiting, though he knew it not. The five hundred 
 years were ended. The mystery of his life was 
 about to be solved. 
 
 As the sun sank below the horizon, eagerly the 
 Phcenix set about the task which was before him. 
 At last he might build the nest which till now he 
 had never known. On the top of the highest palm 
 he would build it, that it might receive from the 
 blessed East the first beam of the morning sun. 
 Marvelously strengthened for the task, back and 
 forth to the ends of the earth his wings of crim- 
 
 187 
 
THE CURIOUS BOOK OF BIRDS 
 
 son and gold bore the Phoenix that night. For 
 this was to be no nest of sticks and straw. Of pre- 
 cious things must it be made, and well he knew 
 where such were to be found. Of silky leaves and 
 grass interwoven with splinters of sandal-wood 
 were the walls. Then on the bottom of the nest 
 he laid, bit by bit, a pile of sweet-smelling gums, 
 cinnamon and spice, spikenard, myrrh, camphor, 
 ambergris, and frankincense, with no meaner 
 choice. 
 
 All night he labored, beak and talon, until the 
 nest was ready. And as the first tints of dawn be- 
 gan to streak the east, the Phcenix rose once> high 
 into the air, gazing with wistful eyes over the 
 world which he had loved; then, slowly sinking 
 to the palm, he poised his gorgeous body upon 
 the fragrant nest. With wings spread wide, and 
 eyes fixed eagerly upon the spot where the Sun 
 was sure to rise, he waited, waited. 
 
 At last the golden Eye appeared. As on the 
 night before, one radiant beam seemed to single 
 out the lonely palm. One shaft of flame pierced to 
 the nest whereon the Phoenix sat. It was the final 
 signal to the Bird of the Sun. Immediately the 
 great bird began to fan the sweet-smelling mass 
 with his wings. The burning ray grew brighter, 
 a pungent, wonderful aroma of mingled fra- 
 
 188 
 
THE PHGENIX 
 
 grances filled the air. Gradually the Sun rose, 
 great and glorious, and as it advanced into the 
 heaven a thin cloud of smoke floated from the 
 palm tree, and wound away across the desert to- 
 wards the east. Faster and faster fanned the great 
 wings of the Phoenix, until when the Sun shone 
 full down through the palm tree top, the whole 
 mass burst into flame, in the midst of which the 
 Phoenix blended crimson and gold. High in the 
 air rose the fire, diffusing abroad all the sweet odors 
 of Araby the blest. For a little while it glowed, 
 then gradually sank, lower and lower, until but a 
 pile of ashes remained at the bottom of the nest. 
 
 But lo ! Was the Phoenix dead ? What was 
 this creature risen in youth and beauty from the 
 ashes ? A bird like the Eagle in shape, but nobler, 
 larger, stronger, more gracious even than the King 
 of Birds, a brilliant vision of crimson and gold, 
 rose like a flame from the nest, hung for a mo- 
 ment above the palm, looking eagerly at the Sun, 
 which baptized him in its splendor. A new Phce- 
 nix lived in the world. Once more the ancient 
 glory was renewed. Once more youth, joy, and 
 hope sprang from the Phoenix's ashes and re- 
 joiced in the centuries of sunshine before him. 
 Death was indeed worth dying to make this life 
 worth living! 
 
 189 
 
THE CURIOUS BOOK OF BIRDS 
 
 Slowly the young Phoenix descended to the 
 nest which had been at once a sepulchre and 
 a cradle. Tenderly careful of the parent ashes 
 which it held, with lusty beak and talon he tore 
 the nest bodily from the branches, and set out 
 upon his pious journey. He knew not where he 
 went, nor why, but the Sun drew him to the East. 
 
 As he sped, through the sky, a flash of gold and 
 crimson, the lesser birds gathered to wonder and 
 admire. Flocks of them followed at a distance, a 
 train of worshipers, chorusing the glory of the 
 new-born wonder. He bore his head high with its 
 burden, and his heart was filled with pious joy. 
 It was good to be a Phoenix, good, good ! 
 
 At last he reached the place which unknow- 
 ingly he sought. The Sun alone had been his 
 guide. To the city of Heliopolis in Egypt he 
 came ; to the great Temple of the Sun, brightly 
 adorned with crimson and gold, the Phoenix col- 
 ors. 
 
 There upon the altar he laid the precious ashes. 
 And lo! There were folk waiting to receive 
 them, many little children, and some elders of 
 childlike heart, who took the ashes and laid them 
 reverently in the shrine. The Phoenix was not 
 forgotten; he was never to be forgotten so long 
 as the world should last. 
 
 190 
 
THE PHCENIX 
 
 The new Phoenix flew back to the Arabian 
 desert to live his five hundred years as each of 
 his race had done, sacred, afar, and apart, but not 
 forgotten, though in his old age he might come to 
 deem so. For in the bright Temple of the Sun 
 there are always folk of childlike sympathy who 
 delight to honor the eternal Phcenix of romance 
 and mystery, the dear, undying memory of a 
 time long past. 
 
 191 
 
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