Peter had come over to the Smiling Pool especially to pay his respects
to Redwing the Blackbird, so as soon as he could, without being
impolite, he left Mrs. Teeter sitting on her eggs, and Teeter himself
bobbing and bowing in the friendliest way, and hurried over to where
the bulrushes grow. In the very top of the Big Hickory-tree, a little
farther along on the bank of the Smiling Pool, sat some one who at that
distance appeared to be dressed all in black. He was singing as if
there were nothing but joy in all the great world. “Quong-ka-reee!
Quong-ka-reee! Quong-ka-reee!” he sang. Peter would have known from this
song alone that it was Redwing the Blackbird, for there is no other song
quite like it.
As soon as Peter appeared in sight Redwing left his high perch and flew
down to light among the broken-down bulrushes. As he flew, Peter saw the
beautiful red patch on the bend of each wing, from which Redwing gets
his name. “No one could ever mistake him for anybody else,” thought
Peter, “For there isn't anybody else with such beautiful shoulder
patches.”
“What's the news, Peter Rabbit?” cried Redwing, coming over to sit very
near Peter.
“There isn't much,” replied Peter, “excepting that Teeter the Sandpiper
has four eggs just a little way from here.”
Redwing chuckled. “That is no news, Peter,” said he. “Do you suppose
that I live neighbor to Teeter and don't know where his nest is and all
about his affairs? There isn't much going on around the Smiling Pool
that I don't know, I can tell you that.”
Peter looked a little disappointed, because there is nothing he likes
better than to be the bearer of news. “I suppose,” said he politely,
“that you will be building a nest pretty soon yourself, Redwing.”
Redwing chuckled softly. It was a happy, contented sort of chuckle. “No,
Peter,” said he. “I am not going to build a nest.”
“What?” exclaimed Peter, and his two long ears stood straight up with
astonishment.
“No,” replied Redwing, still chuckling. “I'm not going to build a nest,
and if you want to know a little secret, we have four as pretty eggs as
ever were laid.”
Peter fairly bubbled over with interest and curiosity. “How splendid!”
he cried. “Where is your nest, Redwing? I would just love to see it. I
suppose it is because she is sitting on those eggs that I haven't seen
Mrs. Redwing. It was very stupid of me not to guess that folks who come
as early as you do would be among the first to build a home. Where is
it, Redwing? Do tell me.”
Redwing's eyes twinkled.
“A secret which is known by three
Full soon will not a secret be,”
said he. “It isn't that I don't trust you, Peter. I know that you
wouldn't intentionally let my secret slip out. But you might do it by
accident. What you don't know, you can't tell.”
“That's right, Redwing. I am glad you have so much sense,” said another
voice, and Mrs. Redwing alighted very near to Redwing.
Peter couldn't help thinking that Old Mother Nature had been very unfair
indeed in dressing Mrs. Redwing. She was, if anything, a little bit
smaller than her handsome husband, and such a plain, not to say homely,
little body that it was hard work to realize that she was a Blackbird
at all. In the first place she wasn't black. She was dressed all over in
grayish-brown with streaks of darker brown which in places were almost
black. She wore no bright-colored shoulder patches. In fact, there
wasn't a bright feather on her anywhere. Peter wanted to ask why it was
that she was so plainly dressed, but he was too polite and decided to
wait until he should see Jenny Wren. She would be sure to know. Instead,
he exclaimed, “How do you do, Mrs. Redwing? I'm ever so glad to see you.
I was wondering where you were. Where did you come from?”
“Straight from my home,” replied Mrs. Redwing demurely. “And if I do say
it, it is the best home we've ever had.”
Redwing chuckled. He was full of chuckles. You see, he had noticed how
eagerly Peter was looking everywhere.
“This much I will tell you, Peter,” said Redwing; “our nest is somewhere
in these bulrushes, and if you can find it we won't say a word, even if
you don't keep the secret.”
Then Redwing chuckled again and Mrs. Redwing chuckled with him. You see,
they knew that Peter doesn't like water, and that nest was hidden in
a certain clump of brown, broken-down rushes, with water all around.
Suddenly Redwing flew up in the air with a harsh cry. “Run, Peter! Run!”
he screamed. “Here comes Reddy Fox!”
Peter didn't wait for a second warning. He knew by the sound of
Redwing's voice that Redwing wasn't joking. There was just one place
of safety, and that was an old hole of Grandfather Chuck's between
the roots of the Big Hickory-tree. Peter didn't waste any time getting
there, and he was none too soon, for Reddy was so close at his heels
that he pulled some white hairs out of Peter's tail as Peter plunged
headfirst down that hole. It was a lucky thing for Peter that that hole
was too small for Reddy to follow and the roots prevented Reddy from
digging it any bigger.
For a long time Peter sat in Grandfather Chuck's old house, wondering
how soon it would be safe for him to come out. For a while he heard Mr.
and Mrs. Redwing scolding sharply, and by this he knew that Reddy Fox
was still about. By and by they stopped scolding, and a few minutes
later he heard Redwing's happy song. “That means,” thought Peter, “that
Reddy Fox has gone away, but I think I'll sit here a while longer to
make sure.”
Now Peter was sitting right under the Big Hickory-tree. After a while he
began to hear faint little sounds, little taps, and scratching sounds as
of claws. They seemed to come from right over his head, but he knew that
there was no one in that hole but himself. He couldn't understand it at
all.
Finally Peter decided it would be safe to peek outside. Very carefully
he poked his head out. Just as he did so, a little chip struck him right
on the nose. Peter pulled his head back hurriedly and stared at the
little chip which lay just in front of the hole. Then two or three more
little chips fell. Peter knew that they must come from up in the Big
Hickory-tree, and right away his curiosity was aroused. Redwing was
singing so happily that Peter felt sure no danger was near, so he hopped
outside and looked up to find out where those little chips had come
from. Just a few feet above his head he saw a round hole in the trunk
of the Big Hickory-tree. While he was looking at it, a head with a long
stout bill was thrust out and in that bill were two or three little
chips. Peter's heart gave a little jump of glad surprise.
“Yellow Wing!” he cried. “My goodness, how you startled me!”
The chips were dropped and the head was thrust farther out. The sides
and throat were a soft reddish-tan and on each side at the beginning of
the bill was a black patch. The top of the head was gray and just at the
back was a little band of bright red. There was no mistaking that head.
It belonged to Yellow Wing the Flicker beyond a doubt.
“Hello, Peter!” exclaimed Yellow Wing, his eyes twinkling. “What are you
doing here?”
“Nothing,” replied Peter, “but I want to know what you are doing. What
are all those chips?”
“I'm fixing up this old house of mine,” replied Yellow Wing promptly.
“It wasn't quite deep enough to suit me, so I am making it a little
deeper. Mrs. Yellow Wing and I haven't been able to find another house
to suit us, so we have decided to live here again this year.” He came
wholly out and flew down on the ground near Peter. When his wings
were spread, Peter saw that on the under sides they were a beautiful
golden-yellow, as were the under sides of his tail feathers. Around his
throat was a broad, black collar. From this, clear to his tail, were
black dots. When his wings were spread, the upper part of his body just
above the tail was pure white.
“My,” exclaimed Peter, “you are a handsome fellow! I never realized
before how handsome you are.”
Yellow Wing looked pleased. Perhaps he felt a little flattered. “I
am glad you think so, Peter,” said he. “I am rather proud of my suit,
myself. I don't know of any member of my family with whom I would change
coats.”
A sudden thought struck Peter. “What family do you belong to?” He asked
abruptly.
“The Woodpecker family,” replied Yellow Wing proudly.