In a clump of lilac bushes near Farmer Green's garden Mr. Catbird made
his home. He was an odd fellow, very friendly toward everybody in the
farmhouse, except the cat, whom he dearly loved to tease. When she
passed through the garden on her way to the meadow to hunt for mice,
Mr. Catbird was quite likely to begin mewing. It always made Miss Kitty
furious to be mocked. And sometimes she crept into the bushes herself,
hoping to surprise Mr. Catbird and teach him a lesson. But she never
caught him.
Now, the cat was not the only one whose calls Mr. Catbird imitated.
Although he liked almost all his bird neighbors and was especially kind
and helpful when they were in trouble, nothing pleased him more than to
sing their songs. Knowing as they did that he was always ready to feed
any nestlings that were left to fend for themselves, and that he was
quick to help any of the small feathered folk to fight an enemy, his
neighbors did not care how much Mr. Catbird mocked them. It was only
his way of having fun; so they didn't mind.
Mr. Catbird was always prankish and full of spirits. And feeling all
ready for a lark one morning and not knowing what else to do, he decided
to visit the meadow and play a trick on Bobby Bobolink and his wife.
So when the Bobolinks were away from home on a short trip Mr. Catbird
flew to their end of the meadow and hid in a bush not far from the spot
where they had built their nest on the ground.
From his hiding place Mr. Catbird watched closely. And soon he saw Mrs.
Bobolink, followed shortly by her husband, come skimming across the
meadow and settle down in the grass.
Well, Mr. Catbird was so delighted with the trick he was about to play
on them that first he spread his feathers, and then he tucked them close
about his slim body, while he bobbed about on the branch where he sat,
giving his tail a flirt now and then as if he were so amused that he
simply couldn't keep still.
After spending some minutes in that fashion Mr. Catbird peeped out of
his bush again and began what he expected would be a perfect imitation
of one of Bobby Bobolink's songs. But somehow there seemed to be
something wrong. They were very strange notes that he uttered. And the
moment she heard them Mrs. Bobolink said aloud to her husband, "What in
the world is that queer call? I never heard anything like it in all my
days!"
Bobby Bobolink couldn't tell her. And since they had no idea who was
lurking near their home nor exactly where he was, they kept quite still,
hidden as they were by the tall grasses.
Mr. Catbird had heard what they said. And he was slightly upset, for he
had intended that they should think there was a strange Bobolink in the
meadow.
"I'll have to try again," he said to himself. "Next time I'll do
better."