Dooryard Stories

by Clara Dillingham Pierson

  THE CAT AND THE CATBIRD

  It was late in the fall when Silvertip came to live in the big house,and he was then a very small kitten. All through the winter whichfollowed, he was the pet of the Gentleman and the Lady, of the Maid,and of the people who came there to visit. He liked the Gentleman bestand showed it very plainly, but that was only right, for it was theGentleman, you know, who first brought him into the house.

  At night he slept on a red cushion in a basket in the kitchen, exceptwhen he made believe catch Mice with a spool for a Mouse. Sometimes,when the other people were in bed, they could hear him running andjumping out there and having the finest kind of a time all byhimself. During the days he spent most of his time on a redlamb's-wool rug under a desk where the Lady kept her typewriter. Hethought the desk must be a Cathouse, for the room under it was justlarge enough and just high enough to suit him, and there were walls onthree sides to make it warmer. He did not see why the Lady should sitdown at it nearly every day and thump-thump-thump on the queer-lookinglittle machine which she kept upstairs in this house. When she didthis he had to move farther back on his rug, and it bothered him to doso when he was sleepy.

  Sometimes, when he had been really awakened by thethump-thump-thumping of the machine and the ringing of the little bellon it, he would jump up behind it. Then he would peep over its top atthe Lady and chew the paper which stuck out in his face until he wasgently lifted or pushed away. Sometimes he sat by the side of it, andthen he would watch the little bell ringing until he learned to put upone tiny white paw and ring it himself. After he had watched andplayed in this way for a while, he would lie on the high part of thedesk, over where the drawers were, and sleep again. Yet he was nevertoo sleepy to pat with his paws every printed sheet which the Ladytook from the machine, or to play with every clean white one which shefastened into it. He liked the white ones the better and didn't seewhy the Lady wanted to mark them all up so. Still, he thought it wasprobably her way of playing, so it didn't matter.

  Sometimes, when she seemed tired, the Lady would bend over and put herface down against his back and call him "her little collaborator." Hedid not know what that big word meant. He thought it might besomething about his tail. They were both interested in tales.

  When the Lady was writing on her lap in the funny way that Ladiessometimes have, he would cuddle down under her portfolio and sleep.For these things he liked her, but she would hardly ever take time toplay with him. So, when he heard the latch-key rattle in the frontdoor, he listened, and if it were the Gentleman's step which he heard,he ran to the hall door and waited with his little pink nose to thecrack until the Gentleman came in. Then what romps they would have!Back and forth from one room to another, with balls, spools tied ontothe most charming strings, and even yardsticks and tape-measures, andthings taken from the Lady's sewing-stand.

  He liked the Maid, too. She was always kind to him, although she didshut him up one day when he stole a silvery little sardine from thetable. She would not let him have anything but milk to eat until hewas nearly grown-up. Whenever he smelled a roast or a fine juicysteak he would beg as hard as he knew how, but not one taste did heever get until he had lost all his Kitten-teeth and his Cat-teeth weregrowing in. When he was older and knew more about life, he understoodthat this was to keep him from swallowing a loose tooth with amouthful of meat, and that Kittens who are given all sorts of food arevery likely to do this and bring on fits. You can just imagine whattrouble it would make to have a sharp tooth get into a Kitten'sstomach.

  This was probably the reason, too, why Silvertip grew so very largeand handsome. At Christmas time he was given a red ribbon to weararound his neck, red being very becoming to his complexion. He did notcare very much for the ribbon, though, and went off into a corner andscratched at it with his hind feet until it came off. Then he chewedit into a wet wisp and left it.

  This was Silvertip's life during that first winter. Sometimes onsunshiny days he sat out on the kitchen porch, and once in a while hesunned himself on the broad rail of one of the front porches. Whateverhe wanted he had, except, of course, some kinds of food, which heought not to have anyway. Nobody was ever cross to him and many peoplewere doing things to make him happy. He had yet to learn that thiscould not last forever.

  When spring came he lived more out of doors, and followed the HiredMan around barn and woodshed. He went into the ice-house once, butfound that too cold. In these places he saw his first Mice. He willnever forget the very first one which he caught. It was just at suppertime and he brought it into the kitchen. He could not understand whythe Maid should scream and act so queerly. He thought perhaps shewanted it herself.

  Whenever the Mouse wriggled or flirted its tail into his eyes hejumped backward. It scared him dreadfully, but he would not let go.Instead of that he would walk backward two or three times around thekitchen range. He wanted to lay the Mouse down and play with it, onlyhe did not know just how to go about it. He tried to have the Maidhelp him, but every time he went to lay it at her feet she jumped intoa chair. At last she called for the Lady. Then the Lady came out andlaughed at both of them. How it ended nobody but Silvertip knows, forhe walked around the kitchen with it in his mouth until late in theevening, and the next morning there was not a sign of it to be found.

  It was this spring, too, that he became acquainted with the Catbird.He heard a queer Cat-like voice saying "Zeay! Zeay!" many times, andyet could never find the Cat to whom it belonged. "Come out here!" hewould cry. "Come out here, and we will make believe fight!" When noCat came he couldn't understand it. He had already become acquaintedwith many Cats in the neighborhood, and whenever one came to call theymade believe fight. It was their favorite game. They would sit aroundand glare at each other and growl a whole day at a time. So Silvertipcould not understand a Cat who said "Zeay!" instead of "Meouw!" andwould not fight.

  One morning when Silvertip was sitting on the back porch, a slendergray bird, with black crown, tail, bill, and feet, perched on thewoodbine over his head and said, "Zeay!" It sounded as though somebodyin the little apple-tree had said it, but Silvertip was looking at thebird and saw him open and shut his bill.

  "Pht!" said Silvertip, as he began to let his tail and the hair alonghis back bristle. "Pht! Don't you dare to mock me!"

  "Zeay!" answered the bird. "Zeay! Zeay!"

  "I don't say it just that way, anyhow," said Silvertip; "so quit!"

  "Zeay!" answered the bird.

  "I am the Cat who belongs here," said Silvertip. "You quit mocking meor go away!"

  "Zeay!" replied the bird, putting his head upon one side. "I am theCatbird who belongs here. I had a nest here last year before you wereborn, and when I went south for the winter you were not here. Zeay!"

  Now Silvertip, not having had a chance to learn much about birds,thought that this one was not telling the truth, and he quite lost histemper. "You deserve to be eaten," he cried, and he began to climb upthe woodbine, feeling his way along without taking his eyes from theCatbird. The Catbird sat there and twitched his tail until Silvertiphad almost reached him. Then he said, "Zeay!" and flew off. A fewminutes later he was sitting on the top twig of a fir tree and singingwonderfully. This was what he sang: "Prut! Prut! Coquillicot! Really!Really! Coquillicot! Hey, Coquillicot! Hey! Victory!"

  "YOU DESERVE TO BE EATEN." _Page 218_]

  Silvertip walked back and forth on the kitchen porch. He was too angryto sit down at once. When at last he did, and began to wash himself,he was thinking all the time how mean the Catbird was.

  Every day the Catbird came and flirted around and said, "Zeay! Zeay!"till Silvertip lost his temper. He just ached to get his claws intothat bird, and that even when his stomach was full. He did not care somuch about eating him, you see, although he would undoubtedly havedone so if he had had the chance, but he wanted to stop his teasing.

  One day he was looking out through a screen door and happened to seethe Catbird mocking another bird. He was surprised to hear the othersay: "Mock away, if it is a
ny fun! It doesn't hurt me any." Then heheard the Catbird laugh and saw him fly away.

  "I wonder what he would do if I were to try that?" said Silvertip. "Ibelieve I will the next time."

  That very day, when Silvertip was sunning himself on the porch andheard the same teasing voice say, "Zeay!" above his head, he openedhis thick eyelids and slid the other ones about half-way to one side,and looked lazily up. "Pretty good!" he said. "You do a little betterevery day I think. If you keep at it you can say 'Meouw' after awhile." Then he began to shut his eyes again.

  "Prut!" exclaimed the Catbird. "It's no fun teasing you any more! Youdon't care enough about it! Good-by!" And that was the last time thatSilvertip ever saw him nearer than the top of a tree. So Silvertiplearned one of the great lessons of life, which is not to pay anyattention to people who make fun of you, or to mind when you areteased.

  THE FRIENDLY BLACKBIRDS

  Ever since the year when the first pair of Blackbirds nested near thebig house, there had been some of their family in the tall evergreens.One could not truly say that the Blackbirds were popular. When theyfirst came they had a quarrel with a pair of Catbirds about a certainbuilding-place, and most of the older birds took sides with theCatbirds. Nobody knew which couple first chose this place, so ofcourse nobody knows who was really right, and perhaps it might betterall be forgotten.

  The Blackbirds were happy there and returned the next year with someof their children, who courted and married and built in other tallevergreens in the same yard. After that they were company for eachother and had little to do with Robins, Phoebes, and more quietneighbors. They were handsome, bold, loud-voiced, teasing, and not atall gentle in their ways. Still, that had to be expected of theirfamily. Their neighbors should have remembered that they were notChipping Sparrows or Humming-birds. On the other hand they wereneither Bluejays nor Hawks, and it is much better to think of a bird'sgood qualities than of his bad ones.

  Now, there were so many that nearly every one of the tall evergreensbore a Blackbird's nest. These were built near the top and close tothe trunk of the tree. They were carefully woven of different thingsand lined with mud. Unless you knew the ways of Blackbirds, you wouldnever find out that there was a nest on the place. No carefulBlackbird, you know, will fly straight to his home if any one iswatching him. He will walk around on the lawn in the most carelessmanner possible, until he has the home tree between him and you. Thenhe will slip noiselessly in under the low branches and make his way tothe top by walking around and around the trunk, quite as you would goup a winding staircase.

  Two married brothers built in near-by trees and were much together.Their wives were excellent and hard-working birds--almost, but notquite, as good-looking as their husbands. Like them, they were allblack except the yellow rings of their eyes. The only difference wasthat they were smaller and in the sunlight did not have the samegleaming green, blue, and purple lights on their feathers.

  These two couples were courting at the same time, and were usually inthe same tree, a tall maple. The brothers would sit there in thesunshine, facing the wind and thinking about their sweethearts. Everynow and then they would spread their wings and tails, ruffle up theirfeathers, stand on tiptoe, and squeak in a hoarse voice. Theirsweethearts were hiding in trees near by and crept nearer at eachsqueak.

  Mrs. Wren said she had never heard anything like it, and that, much asshe loved Mr. Wren, if he had made love to her in that way she wouldnot have married him. "Think," said she, "of singing like a cartwheelin need of oil! And then think of having to listen to that sort ofthing right along after you are married!"

  "Oh, that part of it will not be so bad," said an experienced Robin."They probably will not sing so much to their wives."

  "Or if they _do_ sing," said an Oriole who was building in anapple-tree across the way, "they may go far away from wife and homebefore beginning. Mr. Oriole will never sing in our own tree. He sayshe would be seen at once, and then our nest would be found. That iswhy he always perches near the big house before he begins. You knowbright-colored birds have to be very particular."

  When the brothers had really won and married their sweethearts, theychose to build as near to each other as possible, and they walked overthe lawn together as they hunted for Grubs.

  The young wives sat on their eggs and chatted happily with each other.The eggs were bluish-green, with all sorts of queer brown marks. Itwas very interesting when they were laying them. No two were alike,and then Blackbirds never know how many eggs to expect. It is not withthem as it is with other birds, who are sure beforehand of the colorand sometimes even of the number.

  You can imagine how often the young wives visited each other's nests,and how the one who had only three eggs sat on the other nest, just tosee how it would feel to have five under her. Of course thisdifference meant that the couple who lived in the fir-tree would haveto work much harder than the couple in the spruce. Two more mouthstake many more Grubs, and Mrs. Spruce-tree Blackbird, as she wassometimes called, could never be sure whether she was glad or sorrythat she had only three eggs to hatch. As it happened, it was well forthe other family that there were no more.

  When the eight little cousins got safely out of their shells and wereabout as large as Humming-birds, the mother of the fir-tree brooddisappeared. She had flown off as usual to find food and nobody eversaw her again. At about this time her neighbors heard a loud bang andsaw a red-headed boy pick up something from the road. He put itquickly into his bag and ran away, for he knew that shooting anywherenear the big house was forbidden.

  The five motherless nestlings now had only one parent to feed them,and he was a sadly overworked bird. He did the best he could andbrought such great billfuls of food that it was a wonder he did notchoke himself. He was up early and worked late, yet his five childrenlooked thin and forlorn while their three little cousins were plumpand sturdy.

  At last Mrs. Spruce-tree Blackbird could stand it no longer. She heardthe motherless children crying hungrily when her own three were filledwith Grubs almost to the tips of their bills. She paused on the edgeof her nest one day with a delicious lunch all ready. Her own childrenwere ready to swallow whatever she should give them, when she suddenlyturned and flew over to the fir-tree. "There!" she said, as she tuckedfood down into first one gaping bill and then another. "There! I guessit won't hurt my own babies, and I know it won't hurt you, if I makethem share once in a while."

  She spoke with her mouth full, which is bad manners, even in aBlackbird, but one could forgive her still more than that because ofthe kind things she was saying. When her husband came home she toldhim what she had done and asked him to help. "Just think of your poorbrother," she said. "Our own children will not suffer, and you knowhow you would feel if you were the one to bring up a family alone." Helooked at her lovingly with his yellow eyes, and sidled up close toher on the branch. He was a dreadful tease, as all Blackbirds are, buthe was a kind husband and father.

  "We will do it," said he. "I really think our own children have eatentoo much lately. The eldest one has peeped crossly three times thisvery day."

  "Yes," added Mrs. Blackbird, "I think they have been overfed myself.The baby slept very poorly last night, and kept me awake much of thetime by wriggling around under me."

  So it was settled, and after that the poor brother had help. His fivemotherless children began to grow fat and sturdy, while their cousinswere none the worse for sharing. Sad to say, however, they made adreadful fuss because their parents helped feed their little cousins.

  "Guess those children could get along some way," they grumbled."Mother always gives them the best. It isn't fair! We just won't eatif she does that way!"

  When she brought them more food they were sulky and told her to takeit to the other nest. She looked sharply at them and flew away. "Guessshe will feel sorry when we are starved to death," said the threecross nestlings. And when their father came to feed them they acted inthe same way.

  Their parents, being very wise for a couple with thei
r first brood,did not urge them to eat, or get worried in any way. They simply paidno attention to them, besides cleaning out the nest once in a while.They also kept on helping the other family. It made them very sad tohave their children so foolish and naughty, but they tried to rememberhow young they were and to be patient.

  After a while the three cross children began to feel very badly. Theirstomachs had not been really empty since they could remember--notuntil now. For a while they talked about getting even with theirparents. Then they were very still. The baby began to cry. "I am sohungry," said she. And the others cried with her. "So are we," theysaid.

  Their parents flew straight up to the nest. There was nobody watchingthem, but they were in such haste that they might even have done so ifthere had been.

  "Don't you like to feel hungry?" asked their mother.

  "No," sobbed the little Blackbirds. "We want you to feed us."

  "What if you had nobody to feed you?" said she. And she never movedtoward getting them a Grub.

  "B-but we have," they said. "We have a father and a mother."

  "Supposing I had been killed," said their mother, "don't you thinkyour aunt would have helped your father care for you?"

  "Yes, ma'am," answered all three.

  "Then don't you think I ought to help feed your cousins?" said she.

  "Yes, ma'am," was the very meek reply.

  "Now," said she, "are you willing I should feed your cousins, too?"

  "Yes, ma'am," said they, and each was trying to say it first. "We willbe good. We won't be cross any more."

  Such a meal as the three little Blackbirds had then! It is a wonderthat there were not three stomach-aches in that nest at once. When allhad been fed and were half asleep under their mother's warm breast,the oldest one said to his sisters: "It must be dreadful not to haveenough to eat any of the time. I believe I am glad they fed ourcousins."

  "We are glad," said the others, and then they went to sleep. So thelittle Blackbirds learned their first lesson in unselfishness, andthey learned it as larger people often have to do, by having a hardtime themselves.