Father Bunny and his birds

Chapter I Early Visitors

Hark to the tale of Father Bunny!

If you think his story funny,

Then I will introduce to you

His little Bird friends fond and true.

Old Father Bun woke early one morning and said,

“I am so happy in the spring,

For soon we’ll hear the Robin sing.”

Old Mother Bun looked out the window and said,

“Home again, home again,

Here comes Robin in the rain!”

Sure enough, there was Father Robin in a tree, and soon he began to sing a joyful song,

“Old friends I’m always glad to see;

I belong to the Thrush Family.”

Old Father Bun was so excited he ran out to greet Father Robin, and he never even thought to put on his rain-coat and rubbers!

Father Robin sang again,

“I am happy and gay, this is the reason, For me it’s the migrating season;

You know a Robin thinks it best To winter in the middle-west.”

Old Father Bun cried,

“Father Robin, why do you leave at all? Why do you only stay ’til fall?”

Father Robin replied,

“I’d gladly stay here if I could,

But I have to search for food.”

Sure enough, Father Robin had to go to find fresh berries, and seeds, and insects. He remarked that he would really not care to travel at all if he could find enough food in one place to do for all the year, but he added that he did take little trips always from his nest to his feeding-place. He added, “It would make an interesting story if I would tell you all about our travels but today I am so busy looking for a place to build a nest, I will only say now that we fly in flocks as we please, by day or night.

Old Mother Bun came out just then with a plate of crumbs and begged Father Robin to build in the tree he was in.

Father Robin said, “All right, I’ll see;

I always liked a cherry tree.”

Old Mother Bun promised him crumbs every day and she said she would give him some strings to use in nest-building too, so Father Robin decided to stay and began to build a nest that very day, singing,

“I am so happy I sing and sing;

I’m one of the first to return in spring.”

He took pieces of grass and string and wove them loosely, then he played a joke on Old Mother Bun.

He took mud from a freshly-watered plant in a pot she had set outside. He wanted the mud to line his nest. Back and forth he went from the nest to the flower pot, carrying mud in his bill. What a fine worker he was!

Old Father Bun saw that for the time he was too busy to sing, and remarked,

“You’re very busy, it is clear,

But Robin dear, I’m glad you’re here.”

Father Robin stopped a minute and cocked his head on one side, remarking, “I am not half as busy as I will be When I have to feed small birds three.”

He said it would take half his time by and by looking and listening for worms to feed the young birds. He tugged away at an earth-worm that very minute and nearly fell over before he got his meal, he had to pull so hard.

At this very minute a familiar voice was heard.

It was not a song but a loud call, and Mother Blue Jay came scolding as usual.

“I wanted to build my nest in that cherry tree;

I’ve a right, I’ve been here all winter, you see.”

Sure enough, Mother Bluejay had been here all winter but she was such a scold that Father Robin paid no attention to her. She said again, between her shouts,

“I, too, am happy in the spring,

But I was never made to sing.”

How beautiful Mother Blue Jay’s coat and top-knot were! It was a pity she had not a good disposition. She cried out,

“Jay, Jay,” and then added,

“I’m not amiable, you see;

I’m one of the Crow Family.”

This meant that she was really a bold robber.

She took some crumbs that were meant for Father Robin and some nuts that were put out for the Shy Squirrel, then she scolded as though she had been illtreated, and added, “I often eat eggs belonging to other birds, and sometimes young birds, for it is my nature,” She added,

“If you build in this cherry tree,

You may have me for company.”

The Bunnies thought it very selfish of on

He Stopped a Minute and Cocked his Head

One Side

Mother Blue Jay to talk that way, for there were many trees waiting for the nests.

Scolding as usual, Mother Blue Jay went away and cried out,

“Don’t ask me to sing, that is absurd,

I am only a Perching Bird;

Singers, though, are on the wing,

You’ll always hear them in the spring; Many birds I, too, have found,

Who eat their food right from the ground;

More wonderful, though, I declare,

Are birds who feed while in the air.”

Father Robin was glad when the scolding Blue Jay went away.

There was a deep wood back of Old Father Bun’s home and suddenly the most beautiful song was heard!

Old Mother Bun cried,

“Do be quiet, hush, oh hush!

Hear the song of the Wood-Thrush!”

Their new visitor was so shy he did not come into view, but Father Robin said, “I can tell you about him, for he is my cousin, though much smaller than I am.

He travels east, he travels west,

He has about fifty spots on his breast; I’ve seen him often, and it’s said That cinnamon-color is his head.”

The song of the Wood-Thrush grew sweeter and sweeter until all the air was stirred with melody.

Very soon a familiar voice cried,

“Chick-a-dee-dee,” and a tiny bird appeared, singing,

“I’m Chickadee, I must build a house; I’m sometimes called Black-Capped Titmouse.”

Old Mother Bun smiled and remarked, “This question answer Old Mother Bun, Did you say ‘house’ just for fun?”

The Chickadee was all smiles and sunshine. He was much amused and said,

“I am so very glad I came;

I really meant a ‘nest’ to name.”

He was a cute little fellow in his black cap, white waistcoat, and bluish coat. He said,

“In North America you see Six types of birds call “Dee-dee.”

He continued, “I am tiny but a useful bird. I eat up worms that destroy apples; I sometimes eat thirty canker worms for a good square meal!” He said, “I am not afraid of a little cold and stay in some localities all winter.

Across the snow-fields you’ll hear and see

Chick-a-dee-dee, chick-a-dee-dee ;

I am not going to tell the reason I come at nearly every season;

But I’ll still have some hours for play, For I don’t build ’til the month of May; With short bill and long tail I don’t creep,

But very cheerful I always keep.”

All this time Father Robin was building his nest and thinking how happy he would be when his mate joined him.

Many of Father Bun’s neighbors came to watch his birds and they saw some birds flying so high overhead they could not tell what they were.

The Bunnies formed a circle round Old Father Bun and watched the Birds flying overhead.

The Chickadee kept on talking and said, “A great poet once wrote about me; his name was ‘Emerson.’ He said,

‘When piped a tiny voice hard by,

Gay and polite, a cheerful cry, Chic-chic-a-dee, dee, saucy note,

Out of a sound and merry throat,

As if it said, “Good day, good Sir!”

Fine afternoon, old passenger’.”

By and by Old Father Bun turned to Father Robin after the other Birds had flown away and asked, “Didn’t you get very tired coming from the South? Please tell me more about your travels.”

Father Robin replied, “I did not get very tired because we take short trips first to prepare for our longer journey. We fly fast and very high by a regular route and sometimes our little flock rests for a day or two, and, of course, we stop to eat.”

He continued,

“Sun and shower altogether,

We will soon have rainbow weather; Some one is coming o’er the hill, Beside the Lady Daffodil.”

A voice called, “Who? Who? Who?”

Father Robin sang again,

“Don’t you hear Woodpecker drumming?

Don’t you know that Spring is coming?”

“Who was it called ‘Who? Who?’

I really do not know, do you?”

Old Mother Bun replied,

“To know that voice we really should; We have lived years in the wild wood.”

Old Father Bun said with a chuckle,

“We are happy in this home of ours; Soon you will be planting flowers.”

Old Father Bun always teased her because of her fondness for flowers, and so she quite ignored his question and said,

“Your field glass I will have to borrow; We will have more visitors tomorrow.”

All night long a mysterious voice called, “Who? Who? Who?”

Chapter II Attracting The Birds

Father Bun said, “I will do it,

Nail on the tree a little suet;

Mother Bun, please watch and see Who our visitors will be.”

Father Bun knew the birds loved suet so he tied some on the branch of a tree and nailed some on the tree trunk.

Old Mother Bun watched him and said,

“You’re doing the right thing, I’ve heard, To attract some wandering bird.”

It was a chilly day, and soon a bird discovered the suet. He was coming down the tree-trunk, head downward, and said merrily,

“Do you like my white breast and gray gown?

I am Nuthatch, Young Up-Side-Down.”

Old Father Bun remarked,

“Little Black Head, what do you say? Why do you travel down trees that way?”

Old Mother Bun cried excitedly,

“You’re a better climber, I’ve heard said, Than Woodpecker in his cap of red.”

The Nuthatch was so busy searching for a borer in a tree trunk, that he did not answer for a minute, then he said, “It is really true that I can climb better than the Red-headed Woodpecker because I do not need to cling to the trunk of the tree by my tail. My bill, however, is much like his. See how useful I am to the Friendly Tree. I eat the insects that would otherwise destroy it.” He added,

“I am as busy as busy can be;

I know every inch of the Friendly Tree.”

The Nuthatch was in a pine tree and was thinking of building a nest there, but he also said as he was naturally a little shy he did not often tell where he intended to build his nest.

Old Mother Bun offered him a chestnut which he held in a crack in the bark of the Friendly Tree, and he soon split it open with his sharp bill.

He said he would be glad when it was warmer and all the birds would come back and then he began to talk about nest building again, for that was the popular subject in spring. He said,

“The Nuthatch cares little for stormyweather,

For his nest is mainly made of feathers.”

Old Mother Bun heard at this minute a distinct “me-ow” and fearing the Terrible Tabby, cried,

“The Terrible Tabby may discover A Bunny who is not under cover.”

The Nuthatch looked very funny as he listened, holding his head up, for he was still upside down on the tree trunk.

By and by, after the Bunnies had gone into the house they peeped out of the window and Old Mother Bun cried,

“Our fears, as usual, were quite absurd, It is only our old friend, the Catbird!”

The Catbird then came out and showed himself, for he had decided to build a nest in some shrubs back of the house. He was a comical fellow and remarked, between his cat-calls,

“Me-ow, me-ow, what do I say?

I wear a dress of slaty-gray;

Look at me, you will not fail To see my black cap and tail;

Look under my tail coverts, it is said You will see a spot, brick-red.”

He began again to imitate a cat; then just for fun he began to imitate a

Robin, and ended up with a song all his own, which was very sweet, indeed, ending up with trills. He added,

“Some of my songs are quite absurd, But I am called a musical Bird.”

Moving his tail wildly up and down, he flew down to the ground and took a dust bath. He began to tell then about his cousin, the Mocking-bird, but Old Mother Bun interrupted him and said,

“Answer me a question, do;

Are your eggs greenish-blue?”

The Catbird nodded in reply, but sang,

“Me-ow, me-ow, I’m off and away;

I will not nest ’til some time in May.”

He might have added that when he did build a nest it would be made largely of paper and rags.

He flew away, and he had been so busy talking that he never noticed the suet at all.

Just then there was a commotion in the Bird World, for the Shy Squirrel was worrying the Blue Jay and pretending he would rob his nest. All the Birds came to help and flew about scolding until the Shy Squirrel thought it best to go away.

The Shy Squirrel was a terrible tease, but really meant no harm at all. He said,

“Rather mischievous things I do,

But wait till you hear from Brother Who.”

He meant that the Owl would come some day as an enemy, I am sure, but the little birds knew pretty well how to protect themselves, of course.

When evening came, Old Father and Mother Bun were seated round the fireplace and were just thinking of starting a fire in the grate when there was a great chirping and twittering, and down fell two helpless little black creatures hardly able to fly.

“By my stubby tail,” remarked Old Father Bun. “They are Chimney-Swifts.”

He continued, “I feel in my bones, if we sit very still they may tell us a story.”

Old Mother Bun scolded a little about their bringing 1 down soot, but she wanted to know what they had been doing in her chimney and what they had to say.

So, to the relief of all, Old Mother Chimney-Swift came flying down the chimney after her lost children. She said pleasantly,

“For years and years we’ve thought it best

In a chimney to build our nest.”

Old Father Bun coughed politely but Old Mother Bun had so much curiosity she asked,

“With wings one can travel east or west, Of what do you really build your nest?”

The Chimney-Swift replied,

“Ha, ha, ha, now since you ask it,

Of twigs I make a bracket-basket.”

She told them she did not always build in chimneys but sometimes in hollow trees or caves. She added that she liked to gather twigs while on the wing, and that she glued them together with saliva. Her talk was most interesting. She said,

“I wonder if you understand I am the most aerial Bird on land.”

Neither Father nor Mother Bun knew just what the Chimney-Swift meant by “aerial,” so she explained it meant “belonging to the air; and,” she continued, “how I enjoy flying through the air and what wonderful wings I have, but I have very weak feet so I have to cling to the chimney using my tail as a support or prop.”

Next day Old Mother Bun called to Old Father Bun to come and see a little bird eating suet.

Old Father Bun said, “He is talking.” The Bird said,

“I'm going away, going in May,

I’ve stayed all winter, I’ll soon away; I’ve come to say ‘good bye,’ it’s clear I stay with you eight months of the year.”

Old Father and Mother Bun went out to talk to the little Snowbirds, for they were very old friends, indeed.

Junco, the Snowbird, was a great joker and he said,

“How many kinds of feathers do you suppose

We wear instead of fur or clothes?”

The Bunnies could not guess so he continued,

“I will talk, I’ve no time to sing;

We have flight feathers on tail and wing,

And every bird really thinks it best To wear clothing feathers on body and breast;

Our downey feathers, as you suppose, Really look like fine underclothes; Then any one who really cares Can see our thread feathers like hairs, Some birds have plumes and, altogether, Birds have at least four kinds of feathers;

To keep our feathers fine we try;

Our plumage we like to wash and dry. A bird will very seldom fail To have twelve feathers in his tail.”

The Junco flew about showing his outer white tail feathers, his white vest, and gray suit. He said,

“Every Junco now that passes Eats seeds of weeds and grasses;

We are watchful for each sound,

But like to eat upon the ground.”

Just as he was going to tell a story, Old Father Bun said,

“Hush, be still, I hear a sound;

Some one is surely coming round.”

“Back into the house let’s go;

An enemy is around, I know.”

A sleepy voice cried, “Who? Who? Who?”

Old Father and Mother Bun went inside and Junco flew away just in time, for the Terrible Tabby crept out from the hiding place in the currant bushes, and even the Sparrows who were always around flew away.

“Why do you suppose some birds creep Close to the tree trunk when they sleep?”

“Why is it now, do you really suppose, They sleep on their feet, and stand on their toes?”

The Terrible Tabby might have been able to answer some of these questions, but he only crept back under the currant bush and fell fast asleep.

Chapter III The Bird’s Party

Said Old Mother Bun so hale and hearty,

“Let us give the Sparrows now a party.” She took some crumbs from the pantry shelf

And scattered them about herself.

The Song-Sparrow was the first to come to the party and he sang a merry song,

“Spring has come, if you will look You’ll find my nest near a meadow brook;

And when at last my nest is found, You’ll find it built on the ground.”

He flew to the currant bushes waving his tail up and down, for Old Mother Bun startled him by saying,

“I hoped that you would think it best In my currant bush to build your nest.”

The Song-Sparrow admitted that he did sometimes build his nest in bushes, and he said he raised three broods every year.

He continued,

“Do you admire my spotted breast?

I must go, it is time to build my nest."

He was a cunning Bird with one large spot in the centre of his breast.

While he was talking, his cousin, the Swamp-Sparrow appeared and began to enjoy the crumbs, saying over and over,

“I migrate and like to roam,

But the lowland is my home.”

Before he could say another word, a little Field-Sparrow came singing,

“I’ll sing and sing; this is the reason, August ends my singing season.”

Old Father Bun came out and remarked that the Field-Sparrow was different from all the other Sparrows. His white breast, they saw, had no streaks upon it, and he had white rings about his eyes, and a brownish bill.

A voice now called joyfully,

“I’ll tell you this, if you go hunting,

You may discover the Bay-Winged Bunting.”

It was the Vesper-Sparrow, and he said he was also called a third name, the “Grass-Finch.” He added,

“Far and wide I like to roam,

But the great field is my home;

To recognize me you’ll not fail,

If you see white feathers on my tail.”

He perched on the fence and sang half an hour. He sang a low note and two high notes to introduce his song.

A whole colony of English Sparrows arrived.

They chattered noisily,

“We manage always to have fun;

We came to this country in ’51.”

They were introduced into this country in 1851 and they were brave little fellows, never complaining of rain or snow.

The Chipping-Sparrow next arrived and said,

“From the cotton fields in the south I come;

I will soon be glad to wing back home.”

He said the “homing instinct” is strong in nearly all birds. Suddenly he gave a cry of warning and all the birds flew away, for the Terrible Tabby was creeping round the currant bush.

Old Father and Mother Bun went inside and closed their door, saying,

“The Terrible Tabby has such bright eyes,

We wish we could take him by surprise.”

“To Teddy Thinker I’ll send a bell,

And our misfortunes I will tell;

Terrible Tabby tomorrow morning Shall wear a bell to give us warning.”

Teddy Thinker was the boy who lived next door, and at that very minute he came and caught the Terrible Tabby, and Father Bun talked to him freely about the bell, and he agreed to do this at the earliest possible moment.

All the Birds came back and the Chipping-Sparrow with them. He said,

“See my chestnut cap and forehead black,

For variety I do not lack;

I’ll change these to match my coat, you’ll see,

When the nesting season is over for me.”

Five little Owls flew about in a locust tree and scared the other birds so much they all made a great noise, and there was a great flapping of wings for they feared the big Mother Owl might come to devour some of them.

When there is any danger, birds try to protect each other.

Tommy Thinker saw the birds’ distress and assured them that the tiny Owls were just trying their wings and that the old birds were not around.

A flock of White-Throated Sparrows came next, calling “chink, chink, chink.”

The White-Crowned Sparrow joined them and said,

“Do you like my looks? Do you like my gown?

Do you like my song? Do you like my crown?”

He said, “All our family have short, round wings, but we only fly short distances.” He said by fall his pretty white crown would turn brown. He said he liked to change the color of the feathers on his head with the season.

Just then a loud, sweet song was heard and

The Fox-Sparrow cried, “Hush, oh hush, I resemble the Hermit-Thrush.”

He was larger than the other Sparrows and had such a spotted breast that he was sometimes actually mistaken for the Hermit-Thrush.

“Mother Bun, tell me, what do you say?

Will we have other visitors today?”

Old Mother Bun replied,

“Up and down the leafy hollow,

Who is so aerial as the Swallow?”

On came the Swallow winging his way toward them, singing,

“I am well fitted to live in the air With my blade-like wings, I do declare; My feet are small when they come in sight;

For all that, I’m noted for my flight; We eat insects and benefit man,

And so do all the good we can;

I hope this company will not fail To note my deeply-forked long tail.”

The Barn-Swallow, for it was he, continued by saying that there were eighty species of Swallows, but he only mentioned a few of his family and spoke of some of their nests.

He said,

“We are sociable altogether;

My mud nest I line with feathers.

My nest when finished, on the whole,

Resembles a very tiny bowl.

But the Cliff -Swallow, I’ve heard say, Really makes his nest of clay;

The Bank-Swallow’s burrows, I suspect, Earn him the name of architect.”

He did not tell about the nest the Tree- Swallow, or Purple Martin, made, but soon sailed away through the air, winging so swiftly he was very soon out of sight.

Just then the Terrible Tabby came in sight, but he had a bell on his collar that went “tinkle, tinkle, tinkle,” so he gave fair warning, and the Birds flew away and the Surprise party was over.

That evening Old Father Bun said,

“It seems to me I hear a ‘Coo’;

Old Mother Bun, tell me, do you?”

Old Mother Bun went to the window and a most mournful cry was heard. There she found the Mourning-Dove on the window-sill. They opened the window and in he came, showing his wounded wing.

A thoughtless child had shot at this beautiful creature while he was resting in a tree.

Old Mother Bun knew how to put something soothing on the poor wing and the Mourning-Dove became quite friendly and said he was often criticised for building his nest so carelessly. He said,

“Just a few twigs I cross, you see,

In the crotch in a pine tree.”

The Bunnies were interested, so he continued,

“The boy did not realize a thing Of what it meant to hurt my wings; They are my defense, you know,

And flying on my way I go;

For hours you hear me coo in spring, And I can strike out with my wing; As I start to fly there’s something sings, For I make music with my wings.”

Old Father Bun went and got a pan of water for the Mourning-Dove to have a drink, and they were interested to see him drink without raising his head. Tomorrow Old Father Bun planned to fill a shallow pan with water and set it outside for all the Birds to have a drink or bath.

The Mourning-Dove became quite talkative and said,

“I’m very glad old friends to meet; Though insects I never eat,

I am a help in destroying weeds, Because I eat so many seeds;

I look different at times — this is the reason —

I moult and get a new dress each season.”

“Mourning-Dove, please stay with me, And build your nest in our old pine tree.”

She discovered that the Dove was really a very cheerful bird in spite of his mournful voice.

The Mourning-Dove said he was always nested in a tree in their neighborhood, but as the tree had been cut down, he would gladly accept their offer, and nest in their pine tree, but he said while his wing hurt so much he would stay inside and get well.

Old Father Bun lined a soft basket for him and said,

“There is a saying that never ends,

‘To feed strange pigeons brings true friends’.”

Old Father Bun begged the Mourning- Dove to tell him something about the colors of Birds in general, as he was interested in everything he could learn about a Bird.

The Mourning-Dove recited some lines he had learned long ago,

“Birds are protected, don’t you see! Colored often much like a tree;

In Bird’s feathers are pigments found, The light strikes them as they fly around;

The coloring depends much on age, And if you read farther down the page, Perhaps you can even find the reason Some Birds wear down in the nesting season;

We have to molt, that’s the reason Some Birds change color with the season. We may retain feathers on wing and tail,

But shed body-feathers without fail; To tell you this perhaps I should,

Our color depends somewhat on food; The Purple Finch becomes yellow, you see,

When he is put in captivity.

Our color depends on climate, too, We’re darker in damp regions, ’tis true, And palest where the country is dry,

I truly cannot tell you why;

Deceptive colors in some way Help us to approach our prey;

Here is a secret I’ve told no other, WE HAVE COLORS TO RECOGNIZE EACH OTHER.”

“Who? who? who?” called a loud voice and then all was still.

The Mourning-Dove said, “One reason I mourn is because children all over the world have not learned to know and love me.”

Late that evening, Old Father Bun said, “I am going to write a letter to Sling-Shot Sam and ask him to visit us. I know he will grow so fond of the Mourning-Dove that he will never want to shoot a Bird again as long as he lives.”

The Mourning-Dove replied,

“Hark, hark, hark! to a voice you love; ‘Coo, coo, coo,’ sings the Mourning- Dove.”

Chapter IV Sling-shot Sam

Sling-Shot Sam had a vacation,

So he accepted the invitation;

He made a friend of the Mourning-Dove, And other Birds he learned to love.

Old Mother Bun said next day,

"Sling-Shot Sam is coming, ’tis true;

If he brings a sling-shot what will we do?”

Old Father Bun replied,

“I can take him to the Park And let him shoot at a mark.”

They did not need to worry, for Sling- Shot Sam came, but he left his sling-shot at home. He said,

“How do you do? Father and Mother Bun; Please let me join you in your fun.”

Old Father Bun was working away making a bath for the birds. He made a shallow bowl of cement and Sam helped him fasten it to the stump of a tree.

“Who will visit the bird-bath first today? Let each of us guess, now, in our own way.”

He guessed that Father Robin would be first, and Old Mother Bun guessed that the Nuthatch would be the first, and Sam guessed the Catbird would be the first to come.

As it happened, none of them were right.

Mother Blue Jay began to scold and the Shy Squirrel began to chatter, and as he was thirsty, down he came for a drink of water, frisking his beautiful tail.

So the Shy Squirrel was the first visitor.

Just then a voice called,

“How do you do? How do you do?

I am the Mourning-Dove, coo, coo.”

Sam discovered the Mourning Dove for the first time and admired his beautiful plumage.

When Sam found out the reason the beautiful creature could not fly, he rubbed his coat sleeve across his face and said, “I never thought before that Birds have feelings like we have. I would give every cent saved in my penny bank if I could make that wing whole again!”