ALTHOUGH Mr. Red-winged Blackbird talked about the weather as fast as
he could, his chatter did not prevent Mr. Crow from interrupting him,
because the old gentleman was determined to be disagreeable to Bobby
Bobolink, and nothing could stop him.
"Your friend here has been talking about you," he told Bobby Bobolink
with a wise smile. "He says you have a good many names."
"Yes!" Bobby told Mr. Crow. "That's quite true."
Mr. Crow coughed; and he shot a sidelong look at Mr. Red-winged
Blackbird.
"It must be pleasant to have so many fine names," Mr. Crow then added,
with a smirk.
"Oh, very!" Mr. Red-winged Blackbird answered for his friend.
Mr. Crow turned a snapping eye on him, and croaked:
"There's at least one name you left out among the lot you mentioned to
me. You said he was known as the Reed Bird, the Rice Bird, and the
Butter Bird. But there's one more bird still to be added to the list."
"Is there?"
"Yes!" Mr. Crow replied. "Maybe I know more about your chum than you do.
Perhaps you weren't aware that in spite of all the elegant names you've
spoken of, he's nothing but a Skunk Blackbird after all!" And with a
loud haw-haw Mr. Crow rose upon the breeze and flapped into the woods.
That was a favorite trick of his. After making some specially rude
remark he would hurry away before anybody had time to think of a retort.
"The idea!" Mr. Red-winged Blackbird exclaimed to Bobby Bobolink, gazing
after Mr. Crow with an injured air. "He insulted you!"
To his great surprise Bobby laughed heartily.
"Mr. Crow is a wise old bird," he said, "He generally knows what he's
talking about."
"You don't mean to say that he was telling the truth, do you?" Mr.
Red-winged Blackbird demanded.
"I do!" Bobby Bobolink admitted.
Mr. Red-winged Blackbird edged away slightly. Skunks, he knew, would
rather eat a bird than not. And he couldn't help wondering whether a
Skunk Blackbird might be as dangerous.
"Then some people do call you that!" he faltered.
"Yes! But I don't care," Bobby Bobolink answered carelessly. "It's only
because of these clothes I'm wearing at present--black, you know, with
stripes of white down each side and meeting on my back."
Mr. Red-winged Blackbird stared at him.
"Then," he asked, "that's the only way you're like a Skunk?"
"Certainly!" said Bobby. And he laughed so merrily that Mr. Red-winged
Blackbird had to believe him.
"I was scared, for a moment," he confessed. "I was afraid you might take
it into your head to eat me."
Bobby Bobolink seemed to think that a huge joke. And he sang several
humorous songs before he turned to Mr. Red-winged Blackbird and said:
"I can tell you one thing. I'd rather be called a Skunk Blackbird than
a Skunk Crow, any day!"