The Tale of Bobby Bobolink | Page 9

was a favorite trick of his. After making some
specially rude remark he would hurry away before anybody had time to
think of a retort.

"The idea!" Mr. Red-winged Blackbird exclaimed to Bobby Bobolink,
gazing after Mr. Crow with an injured air. "He insulted you!"
To his great surprise Bobby laughed heartily.
"Mr. Crow is a wise old bird," he said, "He generally knows what he's
talking about."
"You don't mean to say that he was telling the truth, do you?" Mr.
Red-winged Blackbird demanded.
"I do!" Bobby Bobolink admitted.
Mr. Red-winged Blackbird edged away slightly. Skunks, he knew,
would rather eat a bird than not. And he couldn't help wondering
whether a Skunk Blackbird might be as dangerous.
"Then some people do call you that!" he faltered.
"Yes! But I don't care," Bobby Bobolink answered carelessly. "It's only
because of these clothes I'm wearing at present--black, you know, with
stripes of white down each side and meeting on my back."
Mr. Red-winged Blackbird stared at him.
"Then," he asked, "that's the only way you're like a Skunk?"
"Certainly!" said Bobby. And he laughed so merrily that Mr.
Red-winged Blackbird had to believe him.
"I was scared, for a moment," he confessed. "I was afraid you might
take it into your head to eat me."
Bobby Bobolink seemed to think that a huge joke. And he sang several
humorous songs before he turned to Mr. Red-winged Blackbird and
said:
"I can tell you one thing. I'd rather be called a Skunk Blackbird than a
Skunk Crow, any day!"

XIII
MR. CATBIRD'S TRICK
In a clump of lilac bushes near Farmer Green's garden Mr. Catbird
made his home. He was an odd fellow, very friendly toward everybody
in the farmhouse, except the cat, whom he dearly loved to tease. When
she passed through the garden on her way to the meadow to hunt for
mice, Mr. Catbird was quite likely to begin mewing. It always made
Miss Kitty furious to be mocked. And sometimes she crept into the
bushes herself, hoping to surprise Mr. Catbird and teach him a lesson.
But she never caught him.
Now, the cat was not the only one whose calls Mr. Catbird imitated.
Although he liked almost all his bird neighbors and was especially kind
and helpful when they were in trouble, nothing pleased him more than
to sing their songs. Knowing as they did that he was always ready to
feed any nestlings that were left to fend for themselves, and that he was
quick to help any of the small feathered folk to fight an enemy, his
neighbors did not care how much Mr. Catbird mocked them. It was
only his way of having fun; so they didn't mind.
Mr. Catbird was always prankish and full of spirits. And feeling all
ready for a lark one morning and not knowing what else to do, he
decided to visit the meadow and play a trick on Bobby Bobolink and
his wife.
So when the Bobolinks were away from home on a short trip Mr.
Catbird flew to their end of the meadow and hid in a bush not far from
the spot where they had built their nest on the ground.
From his hiding place Mr. Catbird watched closely. And soon he saw
Mrs. Bobolink, followed shortly by her husband, come skimming
across the meadow and settle down in the grass.
Well, Mr. Catbird was so delighted with the trick he was about to play
on them that first he spread his feathers, and then he tucked them close

about his slim body, while he bobbed about on the branch where he sat,
giving his tail a flirt now and then as if he were so amused that he
simply couldn't keep still.
After spending some minutes in that fashion Mr. Catbird peeped out of
his bush again and began what he expected would be a perfect imitation
of one of Bobby Bobolink's songs. But somehow there seemed to be
something wrong. They were very strange notes that he uttered. And
the moment she heard them Mrs. Bobolink said aloud to her husband,
"What in the world is that queer call? I never heard anything like it in
all my days!"
Bobby Bobolink couldn't tell her. And since they had no idea who was
lurking near their home nor exactly where he was, they kept quite still,
hidden as they were by the tall grasses.
Mr. Catbird had heard what they said. And he was slightly upset, for he
had intended that they should think there was a strange Bobolink in the
meadow.
"I'll have to try again," he said to himself. "Next time I'll do better."

XIV
FRIGHTENING MRS. BOBOLINK
Not knowing who gave the strange cry near their home, Bobby
Bobolink and his wife held