Among little Luke's bird friends was little Nick-uts the Yellowthroat.
He was a dainty little fellow, with an olive green back, a bright
yellow breast, and a black mask across his face that made him look
like a highwayman. Though he was lively and nervous, he had a gentle
disposition and a sweet voice. His home was in some low bushes in the
pasture.
Whenever little Luke went up to see him, he would hop up on a branch and
call out, "Which way, sir? Which way, sir?" And when the little boy
started to go away, he would say, "Wait a minute. Wait a minute."
Every time the little boy went for the cows he would stop and chat a
moment with Mr. and Mrs. Nick-uts. To be sure, Mrs. Nick-uts never had
much to say. She was a quiet little body, not so fidgety as Nick-uts,
and besides, she had to stay close at home and see to the eggs and
babies.
One morning, as little Luke was going for the cows, he saw Nick-uts
bobbing around very excitedly.
"Come here. Come here," called Nick-uts, when he saw the little boy;
"I want some help." And he hopped over by the nest.
Little Luke went over to the nest and looked in. "Look there," said
Nick-uts, "see that big, ugly egg. Take it out, please."
"Take it out?" said little Luke. "Why should I do that? Isn't it yours?"
"No, indeed," said Nick-uts, "it's old Mother Mo-lo's. The nasty old
wretch laid it in there while we were away from home. She's always
sneaking around, the lazy old thing, to lay her eggs in some other
bird's nest. She's cowardly too. She always picks out the nest of one
smaller than herself. I wish I were big enough to give her a sound
thrashing.
"Please take the egg out," he went on. "I can't do it myself, and if you
don't take it out, we shall have to leave the nest and our own eggs and
build a new one."
Little Luke took the egg out of the nest and threw it on the ground.
"Why don't Mother Mo-lo build a nest of her own?" he asked.
"Oh, she can't. She doesn't know enough," answered Nick-uts. "In the old
days she had a chance to learn the same as the rest of us. She wouldn't
learn then, and now she can't. I don't believe she ever tries.
"She sneaks around and steals her eggs into the nests of other birds,
and some of them are so silly they don't know the difference. They hatch
the egg and bring up the young one as if it were their own. The young
Mo-los are greedy things and they eat up everything away from the other
little birds. Besides, they grow so fast that they crowd out the other
young ones, so that they fall to the ground and die. I've known old
Mother Mo-lo to fool O-loo-la the Wood Thrush that way. It's a shame
for a decent bird to be imposed upon like that.
"She tried the trick twice on me last year. Once we managed to roll the
egg out, and once we built a second floor to the nest, but we lost two
of our own eggs by doing it."
"You said that Mother Mo-lo had a chance to learn to build a nest," said
little Luke. "Tell me about it."
"Well," said Nick-uts, "since you have been so kind as to help me,
I'll try. I haven't heard the story for a long while, perhaps I can't
remember it very well. But I'll do the best I can."