“I don't believe it,” muttered Johnny Chuck out loud. “I don't believe
Jenny Wren knows what she's talking about.”
“What is it Jenny Wren has said that you don't believe?” demanded
Skimmer the Tree Swallow, as he once more settled himself in his
doorway.
“She said that Hummer the Hummingbird is a sort of second cousin to
Sooty the Chimney Swift,” replied Johnny Chuck.
“Well, it's so, if you don't believe it,” declared Skimmer. “I don't see
that that is any harder to believe than that you are cousin to Striped
Chipmunk and Nappy Jack the Gray Squirrel. To look at you no one would
ever think you are a member of the Squirrel family, but you must admit
that you are.”
Johnny Chuck nodded his head thoughtfully. “Yes,” said he, “I am, even
if I don't look it. This is a funny world, isn't it? You can't always
tell by a person's looks who he may be related to. Now that I've found
out that Sooty isn't related to you and is related to Hummer, I'll never
dare guess again about anybody's relatives. I always supposed Twitter
the Martin to be a relative of yours, but now that I've learned that
Sooty isn't, I suspect that Twitter isn't either.”
“Oh, yes, he is,” replied Skimmer promptly. “He's the largest of the
Swallow family, and we all feel very proud of him. Everybody loves him.”
“Is he as black as he looks, flying round up in the air?” asked Johnny
Chuck. “He never comes down here as you do where a fellow can get a good
look at him.”
“Yes,” replied Skimmer, “he dresses all in black, but it is a beautiful
blue-black, and when the sun shines on his back it seems to be almost
purple. That is why some folks call him the Purple Martin. He is one of
the most social fellows I know of. I like a home by myself, such as I've
got here, but Twitter loves company. He likes to live in an apartment
house with a lot of his own kind. That is why he always looks for one of
those houses with a lot of rooms in it, such as Farmer Brown's boy has
put up on the top of that tall pole out in his back yard. He pays for
all the trouble Farmer Brown's boy took to put that house up. If there
is anybody who catches more flies and winged insects than Twitter, I
don't know who it is.”
“How about me?” demanded a new voice, as a graceful form skimmed
over Johnny Chuck's head, and turning like a flash, came back. It was
Forktail the Barn Swallow, the handsomest and one of the most graceful
of all the Swallow family. He passed so close to Johnny that the latter
had a splendid chance to see and admire his glistening steel-blue back
and the beautiful chestnut-brown of his forehead and throat with its
narrow black collar, and the brown to buff color of his under parts. But
the thing that was most striking about him was his tail, which was so
deeply forked as to seem almost like two tails.
“I would know him as far as I could see him just by his tail alone,”
exclaimed Johnny. “I don't know of any other tail at all like it.”
“There isn't any other like it,” declared Skimmer. “If Twitter the
Martin is the largest of our family, Forktail is the handsomest.”
“How about my usefulness?” demanded Forktail, as he came skimming past
again. “Cousin Twitter certainly does catch a lot of flies and insects
but I'm willing to go against him any day to see who can catch the
most.”
With this he darted away. Watching him they saw him alight on the top of
Farmer Brown's barn. “It's funny,” remarked Johnny Chuck, “but as long
as I've known Forktail, and I've known him ever since I was big enough
to know anybody, I've never found out how he builds his nest. I've seen
him skimming over the Green Meadows times without number, and often he
comes here to the Old Orchard as he did just now, but I've never seen
him stop anywhere except over on that barn.”
“That's where he nests,” chuckled Skimmer.
“What?” cried Johnny Chuck. “Do you mean to say he nests on Farmer
Brown's barn?”
“No,” replied Skimmer. “He nests in it. That's why he is called the Barn
Swallow, and why you never have seen his nest. If you'll just go over to
Farmer Brown's barn and look up in the roof, you'll see Forktail's nest
there somewhere.”
“Me go over to Farmer Brown's barn!” exclaimed Johnny Chuck. “Do you
think I'm crazy?”
Skimmer chuckled. “Forktail isn't crazy,” said he, “and he goes in and
out of that barn all day long. I must say I wouldn't care to build in
such a place myself, but he seems to like it. There's one thing about
it, his home is warm and dry and comfortable, no matter what the weather
is. I wouldn't trade with him, though. No, sir, I wouldn't trade with
him for anything. Give me a hollow in a tree well lined with feathers to
a nest made of mud and straw, even if it is feather-lined.”
“Do you mean that such a neat-looking, handsome fellow as Forktail uses
mud in his nest?” cried Johnny.
Skimmer bobbed his head. “He does just that,” said he. “He's something
like Welcome Robin in this respect. I--”
But Johnny Chuck never knew what Skimmer was going to say next, for
Skimmer happened at that instant to glance up. For an instant he sat
motionless with horror, then with a shriek he darted out into the air.
At the sound of that shriek Mrs. Skimmer, who all the time had been
sitting on her eggs inside the hollow of the tree, darted out of her
doorway, also shrieking. For a moment Johnny Chuck couldn't imagine what
could be the trouble. Then a slight rustling drew his eyes to a crotch
in the tree a little above the doorway of Skimmer's home. There, partly
coiled around a branch, with head swaying to and fro, eyes glittering
and forked tongue darting out and in, as he tried to look down into
Skimmer's nest, was Mr. Blacksnake.
It seemed to Johnny as if in a minute every bird in the Old Orchard had
arrived on the scene. Such a shrieking and screaming as there was! First
one and then another would dart at Mr. Blacksnake, only to lose courage
at the last second and turn aside. Poor Skimmer and his little wife were
frantic. They did their utmost to distract Mr. Blacksnake's attention,
darting almost into his very face and then away again before he could
strike. But Mr. Blacksnake knew that they were powerless to hurt him,
and he knew that there were eggs in that nest. There is nothing he
loves better than eggs unless it is a meal of baby birds. Beyond hissing
angrily two or three times he paid no attention to Skimmer or his
friends, but continued to creep nearer the entrance to that nest.
At last he reached a position where he could put his head in the
doorway. As he did so, Skimmer and Mrs. Skimmer each gave a little cry
of hopelessness and despair. But no sooner had his head disappeared in
the hole in the old apple-tree than Scrapper the Kingbird struck him
savagely. Instantly Mr. Blacksnake withdrew his head, hissing fiercely,
and struck savagely at the birds nearest him. Several times the same
thing happened. No sooner would his head disappear in that hole than
Scrapper or one or the other of Skimmer's friends, braver than the rest,
would dart in and peck at him viciously, and all the time all the birds
were screaming as only excited feathered folk can. Johnny Chuck was
quite as excited as his feathered friends, and so intent watching the
hated black robber that he had eyes for nothing else. Suddenly he heard
a step just behind him. He turned his head and then frantically dived
head first down into his hole. He had looked right up into the eyes of
Farmer Brown's boy!
“Ha, ha!” cried Farmer Brown's boy, “I thought as much!” And with a long
switch he struck Mr. Blacksnake just as the latter had put his head in
that doorway, resolved to get those eggs this time. But when he felt
that switch and heard the voice of Farmer Brown's boy he changed his
mind in a flash. He simply let go his hold on that tree and dropped. The
instant he touched the ground he was off like a shot for the safety of
the old stone wall, Farmer Brown's boy after him. Farmer Brown's boy
didn't intend to kill Mr. Blacksnake, but he did want to give him such a
fright that he wouldn't visit the Old Orchard again in a hurry, and this
he quite succeeded in doing.
No sooner had Mr. Blacksnake disappeared than all the birds set up such
a rejoicing that you would have thought they, and not Farmer Brown's
boy, had saved the eggs of Mr. and Mrs. Skimmer. Listening to them,
Johnny Chuck just had to smile.