Chapter 2

First, of course, they had to find a pleasant place for it. So they looked the ground over carefully. Bobby Bobolink favored the exact center of the big meadow building site, for he said that if Johnnie Green ever came into the meadow he was more likely to take a short cut across a corner of it than he was to walk straight through the middle.

"You may not know," he said to his wife, "that Farmer Green doesn't care to have the grass on the farm trampled down."

But Mrs. Bobolink replied that there were other things to think of. She said that she liked to live in a rather moist place--that such a spot was comfortable in hot weather. And furthermore she wanted to be near water. "If you need a drink on a warm day it's not always convenient to go far out of your way for it," she pointed out.

Well, Bobby Bobolink saw at once that Mrs. Bobolink had made up her mind, and there was no use trying to change it. Besides, he wanted to please her.

"Then, my dear, where would you like to have our house built?" he asked.

"I should prefer to settle in the lower end of the meadow, near Cedar Swamp," she replied. "The ground thereabouts is just damp enough to suit me. And there's always plenty of water to drink in the swamp.... Besides," she added, "it's somewhat marshy in that part of the meadow.

"And you won't find Johnny Green trespassing down there. He might get his feet wet!"

Bobby Bobolink turned his head away so that his wife wouldn't notice the smile that flitted across his face. He saw that Mrs. Bobolink didn't know Johnnie Green very well.

In summer Johnnie almost always went barefooted. And he never minded getting his feet wet any more than Paddy Muskrat did.

But if his wife wanted their nest near the swamp, Bobby Bobolink was willing to oblige her.

"Very well!" he said. "Let's go down there now and look for the best place to build."

So off they flew. And after a careful search they discovered a snug little hollow in the ground that entirely suited them both.

Since the spot was somewhat moist, early in the season as it was the grass grew thick and high all around, making a fine screen to prevent prying eyes from seeing what was to be hidden there.

Having decided on their building site, Bobby Bobolink and his wife began to gather weed stems, leaves and coarse grasses, all left over from the year before and dried by the spring sunshine. Those served for the outside of the nest. As for the inside, they lined that with soft, fine grasses, because they expected to keep something precious in that nest before a great while.

IX

JOHNNIE GREEN INTRUDES

BOBBY BOBOLINK and his wife had finished their new nest.

"There!" Mrs. Bobolink exclaimed, as she gave the lining of soft grasses a final pat. "There's not another thing to be done to it."

"It's perfect!" Bobby told her. "But I think I can make one slight improvement, for we mustn't forget Henry Hawk." And while his wife looked on somewhat anxiously he bent a few grass stalks over so that they completely hid the nest from anybody passing overhead.

"Henry Hawk will never spy our nest now," Bobby remarked a few minutes later, as he flew back and forth over the spot and tried in vain to catch a glimpse of their new home. "If I can't see it as near as I am, Henry Hawk will never find it as he sails high above the meadow, for all his eyes are terribly sharp."

Mrs. Bobolink then told her husband that his improvement was a fine one. And Bobby was so well pleased that he sang a song for his wife, while she rested from her labors.

After that they flew off and told all their friends that their new home was built. But they didn't invite anybody to a house-warming, for that was not their way. They never so much as told people where their house was hidden. They were afraid that some gossip might drop a hint to old Mr. Crow, or his noisy cousin, Jasper Jay, or perhaps Mr. Blackbird. And later there would be something in the nest that would have made a dainty meal for any one of those rascals. No! Mr. and Mrs. Bobolink did not intend to have their nest robbed of its treasure--not if they could help it!

Now, it was only a short time later that Bobby Bobolink and his wife shared a wonderful secret. Five grayish-white eggs, each quite pointed at one end, lay in their nest. And nobody but themselves was a bit the wiser.

To be sure, the neighbors remarked that Bobby Bobolink was simply bursting with song. He was more musical than ever. But they never dreamed what it was that could make him even happier than he had always been.

At last there came a time when Bobby--though he was just as happy--seemed to have less leisure for singing. And then it was easy for the neighbors to guess the reason for that, because it was plain that the Bobolink family was not gathering great numbers of grasshoppers and caterpillars merely for the fun of it.

Hidden as the little Bobolinks were in the tall grass, no stranger found them. Of course, Mrs. Bobolink went to some trouble to keep the secret of her nest in the family. Whenever she left her home she moved along the ground a little way before rising into view. And when she returned she alighted some distance off and scurried through the grass until she reached home.

By taking such pains she kept others from knowing exactly where her nest was. And nothing had happened to alarm her until one day she caught sight of Johnnie Green. He had come into the meadow to hunt for strawberries. And to Mrs. Bobolink's dismay he was headed straight for her house.

X

FOOLING JOHNNIE GREEN

WHEN Mrs. Bobolink saw Johnnie Green, carrying a tin pail, come walking through the meadow straight towards her house she was terribly frightened. She was not afraid for herself. Her only thought was of her children, who were still too young to leave the nest.

Somehow Mrs. Bobolink felt sure that Johnnie was searching for her nest, for he had his head bent toward the ground, as if he were looking for something. And that bright tin pail! Mrs. Bobolink viewed it with alarm. She just knew that it was meant to carry off her children!

Of course Johnnie Green was only looking for strawberries. But Mrs. Bobolink didn't know that. All at once she remembered how she had objected to having her nest in the very center of the meadow, although her husband had told her that he thought it the safest place. And it came back to her, too, how she had said that Johnnie Green would never come into the lower end of the meadow, near Cedar Swamp, for fear of getting his feet wet.

Poor Mrs. Bobolink choked as she thought how foolish she had been. But it was too late to move now. And she didn't see what she was going to do. She wished Bobby was at home, though she had no idea how he could have headed off Johnnie Green who was fast drawing nearer.

As soon as she could speak she called "Chenk, chenk!" at the top of her voice. She could think of nothing else to say.

Luckily Bobby was not far away. And hearing his wife's alarm call, he turned to hurry home. But seeing Johnnie Green, he swerved sharply aside and dropped down upon a tuft of grass not too near the nest.

And then Bobby Bobolink made a great fuss. He cried "Chink, chink!" over and over again, now fluttering into the grass, now bobbing into sight again. Johnnie Green couldn't help noticing him.

"There must be a nest there!" he exclaimed under his breath. And he ran quickly to the spot where Bobby was acting so queerly. But when he got there Johnnie found nothing.

Bobby Bobolink had fooled him. He never knew how near he came to stumbling upon the nest, before Bobby played that trick on him.

Mrs. Bobolink was greatly relieved when Johnnie Green left her end of the meadow. And she told her husband that she had never supposed Johnnie would come where it was so damp, for fear of getting his feet wet.

Bobby Bobolink did not tell her that he had known all the time that a little water never troubled Johnnie Green--so long as he didn't have to wash his face in it.

XI

BOBBY'S NAMES

EVERYBODY--almost--liked Bobby Bobolink. His neighbors in Farmer Green's meadow enjoyed his singing. And they thought him the merriest harum-scarum they had ever known. He was even cheerful to look at, too. For with every bright day that passed, Bobby Bobolink's dress took on a gayer hue. The truth was that the yellowish tips of his feathers were wearing away, leaving him a handsome suit of black, set off by a generous patch of creamy yellow on the back of his neck, with enough white on his back and shoulders to make a most jaunty costume.

Most of the field people enjoyed Bobby Bobolink's company, for he was always in high spirits. And many of them were vain enough to like to be seen with him, on account of his dashing appearance. Mr. Red-winged Blackbird was especially fond of Bobby's companionship. And he was forever speaking of his old friend, Bobby Bobolink, and acting as if he knew Bobby a great deal better than anybody else did.

Mr. Red-winged Blackbird never tired of telling the neighbors about the good times he and Bobby had together when they were in the South. And he related many things about Bobby that some of the feathered folk hadn't heard of.

"There isn't anybody in the valley that has more names than Bobby Bobolink," Mr. Red-winged Blackbird said to Mr. Crow one day. "Some people call him the Reed Bird. And down South they scarcely know the name Bobolink. Down there everybody calls him the Rice Bird. And there's an island far off in the southern seas where people speak of him as the Butter Bird."

Now, if the truth must be known, old Mr. Crow was a bit jealous of Bobby Bobolink. It was said--by those that ought to have known--that Mr. Crow didn't like it because Bobby Bobolink was not only a member of the Pleasant Valley Singing Society, but its finest singer as well. Unfortunately, Mr. Crow's husky voice had always prevented his joining the Society. And somehow--having heard that Bobby was very fond of rice--Mr. Crow could not get the notion out of his head that he might be just as fond of corn.

If Mr. Crow thought anybody but himself liked corn he was sure to be spiteful towards him. You might have thought, from the way Mr. Crow acted, that Farmer Green didn't raise enough corn to go around.

"How does it happen," Mr. Crow inquired slyly of Mr. Red-winged Blackbird, "that your friend Bobby Bobolink has all these names? It can't be--can it--that he is a rogue and is always changing his name so people won't know who he is?"

"Certainly not!" Mr. Red-winged Blackbird snapped. "Only a stupid person would ask such a question as that."

Just then Bobby Bobolink himself flashed across the meadow and joined them. And Mr. Red-winged Blackbird began to talk about the weather.

He was afraid that Mr. Crow intended to be disagreeable.

XII

MR. CROW IS DISAGREEABLE

ALTHOUGH Mr. Red-winged Blackbird talked about the weather as fast as he could, his chatter did not prevent Mr. Crow from interrupting him, because the old gentleman was determined to be disagreeable to Bobby Bobolink, and nothing could stop him.

"Your friend here has been talking about you," he told Bobby Bobolink with a wise smile. "He says you have a good many names."

"Yes!" Bobby told Mr. Crow. "That's quite true."

Mr. Crow coughed; and he shot a sidelong look at Mr. Red-winged Blackbird.

"It must be pleasant to have so many fine names," Mr. Crow then added, with a smirk.

"Oh, very!" Mr. Red-winged Blackbird answered for his friend.

Mr. Crow turned a snapping eye on him, and croaked:

"There's at least one name you left out among the lot you mentioned to me. You said he was known as the Reed Bird, the Rice Bird, and the Butter Bird. But there's one more bird still to be added to the list."

"Is there?"

"Yes!" Mr. Crow replied. "Maybe I know more about your chum than you do. Perhaps you weren't aware that in spite of all the elegant names you've spoken of, he's nothing but a Skunk Blackbird after all!" And with a loud haw-haw Mr. Crow rose upon the breeze and flapped into the woods. That 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 their breaths and waited. They never dreamed that it was their good friend, Mr. Catbird, hidden in a bush near-by, who was trying to imitate one of Bobby's songs.

Meanwhile that fun-loving fellow smiled broadly to himself. And giving his tail an upward toss he opened his mouth once more, only to give voice to one of the oddest sounds that was ever heard in Pleasant Valley.

Mr. Catbird knew right away that he hadn't caught the trick of mocking Bobby Bobolink. So he stopped short.

"I wonder what's the matter with me," he murmured. "Can it be that I've caught a cold and didn't know it?"

He cleared his throat and made ready to attempt Bobby Bobolink's song once more. But he waited a moment, for he could hear Bobby talking to his wife.

"Don't be alarmed!" he was saying. "It sounded to me as if somebody had a frog in his throat."

"I hope you're not mistaken," was Mrs. Bobolink's somewhat doubting answer.

"I thought I heard him choke a moment ago," Bobby told her. "We'll keep still until we know where the noise comes from."

Mr. Catbird winced. He was not used to hearing anybody speak of his singing as "noise." And he made up his mind that he would sing a song in Bobby Bobolink's best manner. So again he opened his mouth.

He hadn't sung half a dozen notes before Bobby Bobolink's wife gave a shrill scream.

"Oh, dear!" she cried. "That's a terrible noise. It hurts my ears to hear it."

Mr. Catbird had stopped when Mrs. Bobolink screamed. A puzzled look came over his face.

"I don't see what's the matter with me to-day," he said under his breath. "This is the first time I ever tried to mock anybody and made such a bungle of it.... Perhaps I'm trying to sing too fast," he added. "So I'll sing slower next time."

But his slow notes were queerer still. Though he tried to make them rollicking and merry, he succeeded only in giving a number of doleful whines.

"That won't do!" he exclaimed. "I declare, I haven't caught the trick yet." And to his great distress he heard Mrs. Bobolink weeping.

Now, Mr. Catbird had only wanted to have a jolly time with the Bobolink family. He had intended to sing one of Bobby's songs a few times, until they were puzzled; and then he had expected to dash out of the bush where he was hiding and have a good laugh with Mr. and Mrs. Bobolink. But somehow his plans were turning out all wrong.

"What shall I do?" Mr. Catbird groaned. "Here I've gone and frightened Bobby Bobolink's wife! Something's the matter with my voice. And I don't dare to try another song for fear she'll fall into a faint."

Then an idea flashed into his head. "If she knows who's hiding in this bush Mrs. Bobolink won't be frightened!" And thereupon he mewed almost exactly like Farmer Green's cat. But the sound was just different enough for Bobby Bobolink to know at once who made it.

"It's all right!" he told his wife merrily. "Don't worry! Mr. Catbird is hiding somewhere. He has been teasing us!"

Then Mr. Catbird came out of the bush and apologized like the gentleman he was.

"I didn't mean to frighten Mrs. Bobolink," he explained. "I was only trying to mock you. But there's something wrong with my voice. I think I'll have to go and see Aunt Polly Woodchuck, the herb doctor."

Bobby Bobolink only laughed harder than ever.

"There's nothing the matter with you!" he cried. "There isn't anybody that can imitate my songs--unless it's one of the Bobolink family. I sing too fast for you--that's the trouble."

Well, Mr. Catbird looked vastly relieved.

"I'm glad to know that," he said. "And I'll never try to mock you again."

"I should hope not!" Mrs. Bobolink told him. "For I never heard such a frightful noise in all my days."

XV

HAYING TIME

BY the time the Bobolink youngsters were beginning to learn to fly Mrs. Bobolink noticed something about her husband that caused her some uneasiness. Bobby Bobolink was unusually jolly. And since his wife didn't know of anything to make him feel happier than he had always been, she couldn't help worrying for fear something was troubling him. For Bobby Bobolink almost never let anything dash his high spirits. He often said that there was nothing so uplifting as a rousing song--unless it was a good pair of wings!

Mrs. Bobolink thought and thought. But so far as she could see everything was going smoothly. Already the children gave promise of becoming fine fliers, taking as naturally to the air as ducks to water. And it was a great year for grasshoppers; so Bobby Bobolink couldn't be worrying about a scarcity of food.

Bobby's wife thought of this, that and the other thing. But she could hit on nothing that wasn't exactly as it should be. So at last she decided to ask her husband what it was that was troubling him and making him so remarkably cheerful.

"I don't like to upset you, my dear," he said in response to her question. "But I may as well tell you that we ought to move at the earliest possible moment."

"Move!" she cried. "Oh, no! I don't want to move. I'm quite contented with this house. It's in just the place I like."

"I'm sorry," said Bobby. "But we shall have to move all the same. And when I tell you why, I think you'll agree with me that the sooner we move the better it will be for us."

Little Mrs. Bobolink replied very firmly that she would have to hear a good reason before she would consent to move an inch.

So Bobby told her. "Haying time has come!"

"What of that?" his wife inquired. "Farmer Green doesn't expect us to help him, does he?"

"Oh, no!" Bobby answered with a short laugh. "But he'll cut the grass all over the meadow. And even if our children should escape with their lives, there's still Henry Hawk to think of. He could see them easily enough, with the grass all gone from above the nest."

That was reason enough for Mrs. Bobolink. She wanted to move right away. But there was something to prevent that.

"We certainly can't leave here till the children have learned to fly better than they do now," she said. "But as soon as they can handle themselves well enough we'll go. We'll know--won't we--when Farmer Green begins to mow?"

"Indeed we will!" Bobby cried. "The mowing-machine makes a terrible clatter. And we'll have to quit the neighborhood in a hurry when we hear it, for it moves fast, and cuts the grass down like fire."

Mrs. Bobolink was all a-flutter. And she spent so much time teaching her children to fly that they learned surprisingly fast. By the time an odd _clackety-clack_ sounded across the meadow early one fine morning the Bobolink family was all ready to move.

Mrs. Bobolink was gathering her children hastily about her when Bobby came hurrying back from a trip to the farm buildings. He had seen--as well as heard--the mowing-machine. And he knew there was no time to waste.

"Are you ready?" he called as he fluttered quickly down beside his family.

"Yes!" said Mrs. Bobolink.

"You haven't forgotten anything?"

She counted her children carefully before answering.

"No!" she said. "There are five of them here." And then, a look of dismay came over her face.

"My goodness!" she exclaimed. "I've forgotten to pick out a place to move to!"

XVI

MR. FROG IS AMUSED

WITH the clatter of the mowing-machine growing louder every moment, Bobby Bobolink didn't stop to ask his wife to what place she would like to move.

"Follow me!" he cried. And rising quickly he headed for Cedar Swamp, with Mrs. Bobolink and their five children trailing after him.