Cowbirds

The rest of his coat was glossy black.

Peter rightly guessed that this must be Mr. Cowbird.

Seeing them on such good terms with the cows, he understood why they are called cowbirds.

Sure that Sally Sly had left the old orchard, the feathered folks settled down to their personal affairs and household cares.

When wild ducks quack in creek and pond, And bluebirds perch on mullein stalks, When spring has burst her icy bond, And in brown fields the sleek crow walks, When chipmunks court in roadside walls, Then Phoebe from the ridgeboard calls, Phoebe, Phoebe, Phoebe, and lifts her cap, While smoking dick doth boil the sap.

End of section four SECTION FIVE THE COWBIRD The cow blackbird is a noticeable songster in April, though it takes a back seat a little later.

It utters a peculiarly liquid April sound.

Indeed, one would think its crop was full of water.

This LibriVox recording is in the public domain, recording by Claire.

The Story of the Cowbird's Egg On the edge of the forest next to the meadow, a pair of young goldfinches were about to begin housekeeping.

They were a handsome couple, and the birds who were already nesting nearby were much pleased to see them tree hunting there.

Mr. Goldfinch was a fine, cheerful young fellow, every feather of whose black and yellow coat was always well oiled and lying in its proper place.

Goldfinch thought that there was never a bird who had a prettier, dearer, or harder-working little wife than he And he would wonder how he was ever happy before he knew her This is a way that people have of forgetting the days that are past And the truth is that Mr. Goldfinch had made fun of the robins and the other birds all spring because they had to build nests and hunt worms for their babies, while he had nothing to do but sing and sleep and feed himself In those days, the robins used to call after him as he flew away, "Silly fellow, silly fellow, silly" They knew that there is something sweeter in life than just taking good care of oneself One afternoon, Mr. Goldfinch saw a tiny green-brown bird on the sweetbrier bush, and as he watched her, he thought her the most beautiful creature he had ever seen She had such a dainty way of picking out the seeds and gave such graceful hops from one twig to another Then Mr. Goldfinch fluffed up his feathers and swelled out his throat and sang her such songs as he had never sung before He did not want her to speak to anybody else, and yet he could not help her doing so, for goldfinches always go together in crowds until they have homes of their own And at this time, they were having concerts every morning He showed her where the finest dandelion seeds could be found, and one bright and sunshiny day, she became Mrs. Goldfinch, and they went together to find a place for their home They began one nest, and it had nearly done when Mr. Goldfinch said it was not in a good place and tore it all to pieces Mrs. Goldfinch felt very badly about this and talked it over with some of her goldfinch neighbors They told her not to mind it at all, that their husbands often did the same thing, and that sometimes they came to like the new place much better than the old At any rate, there was no use in getting cross about it because that was something she would have to expect Mr. Goldfinch was sure that they had built too near the ground, and he had chosen a crutch above Toward this, he was dragging the bits of grapevine and cedar bark, which were woven into their first nest He said they could also use some of the grasses and mosses which they had gotten together And he even told his wife of some fine thistledown which he could bring for the inside where the eggs were to be laid Mrs. Goldfinch watched him tugging with bill and both feet to loosen the bits of bark, and she said to herself, "Dear fellow, what a helper he is.

I won't mind rebuilding if it makes him happy." And she went to work with a will When the sun went down in the west the next night, the second nest was done, and it was the last thing at which the goldfinches looked before tucking their heads under their wings and going to sleep It was the first thing that they saw the next morning, too, and they hopped all around it and twittered with pride and gave it little tweaks here and little pokes there before they flew away to get breakfast While they were gone, Mrs.

Cowbird came walking over the grass and dry leaves to the foot of the tree She wagged her head at every step and put on as many airs as though she were showily dressed instead of wearing, as she always does, a robe of dull brownish gray She had seen the goldfinches fly away, and she was looking for their home She was a lazy creature in spite of her stirring ways, and she wished to find a nice little nest in which to lay an egg You know, cowbirds never think of building nests They want all of their time to take care of themselves, which is a very foolish way of living But then, you could never make a cowbird think so "That nest is exactly right," said Mrs. Cowbird "I will lay my egg there at once, and when Mrs. Goldfinch has laid hers, she will have to hatch them all together and take care of my baby for me What an easy way this is to bring up one's family It is really no work at all And I am sure that my children will get along well because I am always careful to choose the nests of small birds for them Then they are larger and stronger than the other babies and can get more than their share of food." So she lay a big white egg with gray and brown spots on it in the goldfinch's new home, and then she flew off to the cowbird flock as gay and careless as you please When the goldfinches came back, they saw the egg in their nest and called all their neighbors to talk it over "What shall I ever do?" said Mrs.

Goldfinch "I wanted my nest for my own eggs, and I meant to lay them tomorrow I suppose I shall have to sit on this one too, but it won't be at all comfortable." "I wouldn't," said one of her neighbors, a yellow warbler "I left my nest once when such a thing happened to me and built a new one for my own eggs." "Oh dear," cried Mrs.

"This isn't a warbler's egg.

It's a cowbird's egg, and you've done that warbler family a good turn by taking it out of their nest.

I know Mrs. Cowbird," he went on.

"She's too lazy to bring up her own children, so she sneaks through the woods and lays her eggs in other folks' nests.

I must tell of this," Mr.

So, Rian, what's today's jersey?

Yeah, I'm wearing the Cowbird jersey from the World Cup this year.

So, you know, solid kit.

Sorry.