THE BATTLE OF THE CROOK TAILED SNAKE
Jenny’s call gave Stripes a fine scare. Chaik had just finished warning
him not to let the other birds know he was there. And they’d just begun
to suspect that Coquillicot the Thrasher had seen them, because they’d
seen Coquillicot fly up and tell something to the Kingbird Guard. All
the kingbirds had begun peering down at them, and just then——
“Murder! Help!” went Jenny Wren.
Stripes hadn’t done a single thing to her, but there wasn’t going to be
any time for explaining and arguing. Those kingbirds were ready to peck
someone’s eyes out—there wasn’t any doubt of that! The red feathers on
their heads stood straight on end as they came swooping down, whooping
their war cry. They came like hailstones falling from a great black
cloud—hailstones with beaks and claws! It was scary!
“Hide!” gasped Chaik and took to his wings. But poor Stripes could not
fly; all he could do was to squirm a little closer under the thickest,
shadiest branches. And right close beside him a birdy voice said, “Look
out. Don’t wiggle so. You all but set your clumsy claws right on me.”
“Oh!” (Stripes was most too surprised to stay scared.) “I didn’t m-mean
to,” he stammered, and he stood there on three legs, with a hind paw
held up in the air, most awkward and ridiculous, craning his neck to see
who it was.
It was a lovely bright brown bird with rose-red eyes and a long tail,
cuddled down in her nest among the grasses. “I’m Coquillicot’s mate,”
she explained. “I heard you tell Chaik the Blue jay that you’d never eat
another egg, so of course I knew you were that friend Bob White spoke
for at the ground-birds’ meeting.”
She was as nice and sociable as you please. Then she demanded anxiously:
“Who was Jenny Wren calling the guard for?”
“Those kingbirds?” asked Stripes. “Why, I kind of thought they were
after me.”
“No, they weren’t,” said the pretty bird. “I told Coquillicot to tell
them who you were as soon as I heard you. But there’s a rumor that
Glider the Blacksnake’s hawk-bitten son—the one with the crooked
tail—has been seen here. It’s put us all in a flutter. Do find out!”
At that Stripes Skunk stood up stiff and straight. “If it’s a snake,”
said he, “I’ll promise you that he’ll never eat another bird.” And with
that he marched right out into all the pecking and scratching and
flapping and screeching that was going on in the potato patch.
Wheu-whirr-r-r! went a cloud of wings about his ears, but he just
growled, “Where is he? I’ll take care of him.”
There had been more noise than enough before, but when Stripes Skunk
marched out of the hedgerow, with his whiskers bristling and his long
hairy tail arched up behind him-! No body could even imagine the noise
of that! Wow!
Stripes marched right up to Jenny Wren, growling, “Show me that snake.
I’ll take care of him. Where is he gone?” He was so busy thinking about
what he had to do that he forgot to be scary. And not even a fighting
kingbird took a single peck at him!
No. They all stopped still, as still, to listen. Only their wings
whispered like leaves in the trees, as they wheeled and circled—and
listened! “Where is that snake?” said Stripes again.
“It isn’t a snake!” cheeped Jenny Wren. “It’s a dreadful great big
creepy crawly monster with a stinger sticking out of its tail. It’s
spitting poison! It’s—it’s—there, it’s doing it now! Che-e-ep!” She
began to flutter and wail all over again. The kingbirds squawked their
war-cry, but they didn’t go any nearer.
Stripes did, though. He crept up, his long wavy tail sticking straight
out behind him and the tip of it just trembling. He raised his
paddy-paw. Scritch! Off came the leaves where the horrid thing was
hiding. Down rolled——
A big green caterpillar! Jenny Wren screeched. The other birds fluttered
with fear. But Stripes Skunk just sat down and laughed at it. This was
too silly—to have all those foolish flyers making a fuss like that over
what was just a nice juicy mouthful! He forgot that it really was a
monster to Jenny—it was quite as big as she is and its mother, the moth,
is bigger.
It lay on its back and wiggled all its sucker-feet in a most insulting
way. It squirmed, and the eye-shaped stripes on its sides just squinted
and made faces at Stripes Skunk. It even spat a mouthful of chewed
leaves at him! A lot he cared. He swallowed it.
And all the birds watched him with their eyes just popping. Now was his
time to make friends, when they were all listening. He began very
politely: “Thank you for calling me, Mrs. Wren. Now, if——”
He was just going to add if they’d only believe he wasn’t eating eggs
and give him a chance to show them he’d——
But right then a meadowlark began to shout, “My nest! He’s robbed it!
Egg-eater! Egg-eater!” And if it hadn’t been for those fighting
kingbirds there’s no knowing what would have happened. They gathered
around and hustled Stripes back into the bushes, and kept him a
prisoner.
Bob White Quail and the quail-folk were flying about like mad trying to
make somebody listen, and Coquillicot was shouting at the top of his
lungs from the highest tree he could find, and poor Chaik the Bluejay
was shivering in a bush because he used to eat eggs himself—and the
birds have not forgotten it.
“But I didn’t do it!” Stripes protested. “Honest, I didn’t.”
“We know you didn’t,” said the captain of the Kingbird Guard. “We’ve had
a watch on you for a week and this has happened since you were talking
with the mate of Coquillicot. That’s why we’re guarding you. When it
gets dark those larks will go back home and you can run away.”
“But I don’t want to run away,” Stripes insisted. “I want to stay right
here. I want to be friends—can’t you tell them so?”
But the kingbird captain didn’t even have time to answer him, for a
cloud of screeching meadowlarks flew up and tried to get past the guard.
And for a minute it even seemed as though they might succeed—though what
they’d have done if they did we’ll never know. I have my doubts how
brave they’d have been against a skunk after they were so afraid of a
caterpillar. But that was the very moment when a cry of “Snake! Snake!”
came from the pretty brown mate of Coquillicot.
Well, no amount of meadowlarks and kingbirds, both together, could have
stopped Stripes Skunk. Coquillicot’s wife had been so friendly and kind
to him! Now he dashed past the guards and down the hedgerow where her
nest was hidden. And he got there just in time to see the crooked,
hawk-bitten tail of the very blacksnake she had said she was afraid of.
And maybe he didn’t pounce on it!
What followed was a battle. It was the battle the birds mean when you
hear them singing about it—the Battle of Stripes Skunk and the Crook
Tailed Snake! For Stripes doesn’t have the wide jaws of Silvertip the
Fox to fight with. But he had the courage of three Silvertips. Time and
again that snake got away from his teeth and coiled about his throat;
time and again Stripes clawed away its hold and got his teeth in it! He
had a dim notion that the trees were full of birds, anxiously watching,
but not a feather fluttered, not a cheep sounded.
Not a cheep sounded—but far off from the top of the pickery acacia tree
he heard the captain of the Kingbird Guard whistling like a policeman.
“Whee-oo-wheet! Whee-oo-wheet!”
And at that the snake bit viciously right at his pink mouth. Snap! he
closed his jaws, right on its ugly head. He felt his long tooth drive
through it.