A SPARROW SETTLES THE QUESTION
The apple trees were not yet in bloom in the orchard, but the cherries
were tricked out in dazzling white, and the peaches were blushing as
prettily as possible. On either side of the walk that led down through
the garden, hyacinths, great mats of single white violets and bunches of
yellow daffies were in flower, and as far as the children could see the
fresh green orchard grass was gilded with dandelions.
"Isn't it lovely?" cried Dodo, "I want to pick everything." She began to
fill her hands with dandelions. "Only I wish that mother was here"--and
a little quaver shook the merry voice.
"She will come by and by, dear," said Olive. "You know your father had
to go away on business, and you wouldn't like him to go all alone."
"Why do people have business?"
"To earn money, to be sure, to buy your pretty frocks and shoes, and
give you plenty to eat."
"But House People are the only ones who must work for what they
have--everything else takes what it wants."
"There is where you are very much mistaken, Miss Dodo. Everything works
for its living in some way. Take, for example, the birds that you are
going to study. They have to build their own houses, and feed their
children, and travel about every year on their own particular business."
"Travel--do birds travel?" cried both children in the same breath. "Oh,
where do they go, and what for?"
"Father will tell you about that. Now you must do what he said--each
find a bird, and see if you can describe it. Suppose we sit on this
great root. It belongs to the oldest tree in the orchard, and
Grandmother Hunter used to play house up in the top of it when she was a
little girl. Father told me he had a perch up there when he was a boy,
so that he could watch the birds. Perhaps, if you are careful and really
want to keep quiet and see the birds, he will have one fixed for you."
"How jolly!" said Nat. "Sh-h! I see a bird now--such a queer little
thing--it's running round like a mouse. Oh! oh! it goes just as well
upside down as any other way." And Nat pulled out his pencil and book
and waited for the bird to come in sight again, which it was kind enough
to do very soon.
"Size"--wrote Nat, struggling with his pencil, which would squeak,
because he had foolishly put it in his mouth. "How big would you call
it?"
"Little," said Dodo promptly.
"Kind of little, but not so very. I've seen smaller in the Museum," said
Nat. "What would you call it, Olive?"
"I should call it rather a small bird, if I were not speaking exactly.
But if you wish to be more particular you must try to guess its length
in inches. When I was about your age father measured my right-hand
middle finger and told me it was three inches long. Then he made two
marks across it with violet ink, which takes a long time to wash off, so
that my finger made a three-inch measure. I soon grew accustomed to look
at a bird and then at my finger, from nail to knuckle, and then try to
tell how many times longer the bird was from the point of his beak down
over his back to the tip of his tail. Of course I made a great many
mistakes and could seldom tell exactly, but it was a great help."
"How long is my finger?" asked Nat eagerly, spreading out a rather large
hand for a boy of ten.
"About four inches."
"Then that bird is quite a little longer than that--five or six inches
anyway." And he wrote, "Length, five or six inches."
"Ah, he has gone," wailed Dodo. "Oh, no, he hasn't. He has come round
the tree again--he says _squank, squank, squank_, as if his voice was
rusty. Is that his song, Cousin Olive?"
"No, he is only talking now."
"Talking? It seems to me that birds can do ever so many more things than
I thought they possibly could."
"Black head," said Nat, as he continued writing; "sort of gray on top
and white in front; his tail is black and white and rusty looking
underneath, and--there, he has flown away! Do you think that will do,
and will uncle know his name? Oh, I forgot, he says _squank_, goes head
down, and picks things out of the tree bark." "Yes, that will do for a
beginning, but father will tell you some simple names for the different
parts of every bird, so that your descriptions need not confuse you. If
every one gave his own names, no two people would quite understand each
other."
"Oh! I see a bird," whispered Dodo, pointing to the grass at a little
distance. "See! it's quite as big as a Pigeon and speckled all over
black and brown and has a red mark on the back of its neck. Please write
it down for me, Olive; it takes me so long to write, and I haven't seen
it in front yet. There, it's turning round--oh! it has a black mark in
front of its neck like a cravat and it's speckled underneath. It has
flown a little further off and is walking up a tree, and it's very white
on its back where its tail begins. Oh! do hear it laugh, Nat." And the
Flicker, the big Woodpecker with golden lining to its wings, for it was
he, gave out peal after peal of his jolly call-note.
"Can't we go in now to ask Uncle Roy the names of these birds, and see
if he won't begin our book this afternoon?"
"It isn't an hour yet since we came out. Come down through the orchard;
I hear some Bluebirds singing and perhaps you can see them. They are
very tame, and often make their nests in the knot holes in these old
trees."
"See, Olive," said Dodo, "what is that down in the grass by the fence?
It is something moving. Do you think it can be any sort of a wild
animal?"
"No, it's a boy," said Nat. "I see his head. Perhaps he has come to
catch some birds. Let's drive him away." "Gently, gently, Nat," said
Olive; "it is a boy, but you are not sure that he is doing any harm, and
besides it was only yesterday that you were vexed with me because I
wouldn't let you pop at the birds yourself. We will ask him what he is
doing."
They went through the orchard, and found a boy, about twelve years old,
lying in the grass. He had dark hair and eyes, and a sun-burned face,
but was very thin, and a rude crutch was lying beside him.
"Well, little boy," said Olive pleasantly, "what is your name, and what
are you doing here?"
The child looked frightened at first and hid his face on his arm, but
finally looked up, and said timidly, "My name is Rap, and I was watching
the birds. Please, I didn't know anybody lived here, only cows, and I've
been coming in most times for two years."
Then they saw that he had a tattered piece of a book in one hand, which
he slipped inside his jacket as carefully as if it were a great
treasure.
"Watching them to like them or to catch them?" asked Nat suspiciously,
then feeling ashamed the next moment when Rap answered:
"To like them. I'd never kill a bird! I've sometimes found dead ones
that have hit against the telegraph wires; and it makes you feel lumpy
in your throat to see how every little feather lies so soft and lovely,
though they never will fly any more."
By this time the three were seated in front of the strange boy, looking
at him with great interest.
"What is the book you were reading when we came up?" asked Olive. Rap
pulled it out and laid it on her lap, saying, "I don't know its
name--the beginning part that tells is gone--but it's all about birds.
Here's a picture of a Bluebird, only it isn't quite right, somehow. Oh,
I do wish I had all of the book."
Olive turned over the leaves that looked familiar to her and saw that it
began at page 443. "Why, it is part of the first volume of Nuttall's
'Manual of Birds.' My father has the whole of this book," she said.
"Where did you find this bit?"
"The rag pedler that comes by every fall lets me look in his bags,
'cause sometimes there are paper books in them, and he gave me this for
nothing, 'cause it was only a piece."
"Why don't you ask your father to buy you a whole book, instead of
grubbing in rag-bags?" said Nat thoughtlessly.
Rap looked from one to the other, as if in his interest he had forgotten
himself for a time, and then he said quietly, "I haven't any father."
"I haven't any mother," said Olive quickly, putting her hand gently on
the thin brown one. "We must be friends, Rap."
Her sympathy soothed him immediately, and his gentle nature instantly
tried to comfort her by saying, "But you said your father owned the
whole of my book. How glad you must be!"
Then they all laughed, and Nat and Dodo began telling about their
uncle's room and all the books and birds in it, and about the book he
had promised to write for them, until Rap looked so bewildered that
Olive was obliged to explain things a little more clearly to him. "Come
home with us," cried Nat and Dodo, each seizing him by a hand, "and
perhaps uncle will tell you all the names we must learn--head, throat,
wings, and what all the other parts are rightly called--and then we can
go around together and watch birds."
But as Rap turned over and scrambled up with the aid of his crutch, they
saw that he had only one leg, for the trouser of the left leg was tied
together just below the knee.
Acting as if they did not notice this, they led the way to the house,
going close to the fence that divided the orchard from the road, because
there was a little path worn there.
"What is the whole of your name?" asked Dodo, who could not keep from
asking questions.
"Stephen Hawley," he answered. "My mother is Ann Hawley, who lives by
the mill, and does all the beautiful fine white washing for everybody
hereabouts. Don't you know her? I suppose it's because you have just
come. I believe my mother could wash a cobweb if she tried, and not tear
it," and a glow of pride lit up his face.
"But you said a little while ago that your name was Rap."
"Everybody calls me Rap, because when I go along the road my crutch hits
the stones, and says 'rap--rap--rap.'"
"Here's a dead bird," said Nat, picking something from under the fence.
"It's a White-throated Sparrow," said Rap, "and it's flown against the
telegraph wire in the dark and been killed." "We will take it to uncle
and ask him to tell us all about it."
"Yes, yes," said Dodo, "we will all go"--and Rap hopped off after the
other children so quickly that Olive had hard work to keep up with him.
This time Nat and Dodo did not hesitate outside the study door, but gave
a pound or two and burst into the room.
"Uncle Roy, Uncle Roy, we have seen two birds and written down about
them, but we didn't quite know what to call the front part where the
neck ends and the stomach begins, or the beginning of the tail, and
Olive says there are right names for all these parts. And we found Rap
in the orchard and he only has half a book, and here's a White-throated
Sparrow, and we want to know how it's made and why birds can fly and
why--"
Here the Doctor laughingly stopped them and turned to Olive for a
clearer account of what had taken place in the orchard, while Rap stood
gazing about the room as if he thought that heaven had suddenly opened
to him.
"Now, children," said the Doctor, as soon as the youngsters had stopped
chattering, "I will first _tell_ you some stories about the birds; then
if you like them I will make them into a little book that other girls
and boys may read." And as the children began to dance about, he
continued: "But before I tell you the names and habits of some of our
home birds, you must learn a few things that are true of all birds--what
they are; where they belong among animals; how they are made; how they
do good and why we should protect them; and the wonderful journeys some
of them take. To-morrow I will begin by answering Dodo's questions
whether a bird is an animal, and why it has feathers."
"I think a bird is something like a boat," said Rap eagerly. "When it
flies its wings are like sails in the air, and when it swims its feet
row under the water, and the tail balances behind like a rudder and the
head sticks out in front like the bowsprit."
"You are right, my boy," said the Doctor, looking at him attentively;
"and would you also like to know how this beautiful boat is made? If a
ship-builder could plan a vessel that would go through wind and water as
birds do, he would be the wisest man in the world. But you see, Rap, a
man did _not_ plan any bird.
"I will go down and ask your mother to let you come and hear the stories
with the other children--how would you like that, Rap?"
"Will you? Will you really let me come? Oh, I am so glad! I know
mother'll let me any day but Monday and Thursday, because I have to
watch clothes on those days."
"Wash clothes?" said Dodo in surprise.
"No, watch them," replied Rap, laughing. "Those two days the miller lets
mother spread her things to whiten in his big meadow, and I have to
watch and see that they are not stolen or don't blow away."
"Isn't it very stupid to sit there so long?"
"Oh, no, it's lovely; for there are lots of birds and things about."
"To-morrow will be Wednesday," said the Doctor. "Come up to Orchard Farm
by nine o'clock, Rap, and we will begin our lessons with this little
White-throated Sparrow Nat has found."
"And uncle!" cried Dodo, "you must make inch measures on our middle
fingers with violet ink, the way you did to Olive's when she was
little."