|The Burgess Bird Book for Children|
|by Thornton Burgess|
|Through the eyes of Peter Rabbit we become acquainted with a variety of birds as they return to Peterís neighborhood in the spring. In the context of the story about each bird, we hear about its nesting habits, its feeding preferences, and its interactions with other wildlife. We meet Jenny Wren, Scrapper the King-bird, Redwing the Blackbird, and dozens more. An engaging introduction to birds for young children. Ages 6-9 |
THE WATCHMAN OF THE OLD ORCHARD
 A FEW days after Chebec and his wife started building their nest
in the Old Orchard Peter dropped around as usual for a very early
call. He found Chebec very busy hunting for materials for that
nest, because, as he explained to Peter, Mrs. Chebec is very
particular indeed about what her nest is made of. But he had time
to tell Peter a bit of news.
"My fighting cousin and my handsomest cousin arrived together
yesterday, and now our family is very well represented in the Old
Orchard," said Chebec proudly.
Slowly Peter reached over his back with his long left hind foot
and thoughtfully scratched his long right ear. He didn't like to
admit that he couldn't recall those two cousins of Chebec's. "Did
you say your fighting cousin?" he asked in a hesitating way.
"That's what I said," replied Chebec. "He is Scrapper the
Kingbird, as of course you know. The rest of us always feel safe
when he is about."
 "Of course I know him," declared Peter, his face clearing. "Where
is he now?"
At that very instant a great racket broke out on the other side
of the Old Orchard and in no time at all the feathered folks were
hurrying from every direction, screaming at the top of their
voices. Of course, Peter couldn't be left out of anything like
that, and he scampered for the scene of trouble as fast as his
legs could take him. When he got there he saw Redtail the Hawk
flying up and down and this way and that way, as if trying to get
away from something or somebody.
For a minute Peter couldn't think what was the trouble with
Redtail, and then he saw. A white-throated, white-breasted bird,
having a black cap and back, and a broad white band across the
end of his tail, was darting at Redtail as if he meant to pull
out every feather in the latter's coat.
He was just a little smaller than Welcome Robin, and in
comparison with him Redtail was a perfect giant. But this seemed
to make no difference to Scrapper, for that is who it was. He
wasn't afraid, and he intended that everybody should know it,
especially Redtail. It is because of his fearlessness that he is
called Kingbird. All the time he was screaming at the top of his
lungs, calling Redtail a robber and every other bad name he could
think of. All the other birds joined him in calling Redtail
names. But none, not even Bully the English Sparrow, was brave
enough to join him in attacking big Redtail.
When he had succeeded in driving Redtail far enough from the Old
Orchard to suit him, Scrapper flew back and perched on a dead
branch of one of the trees, where he received the congratulations
of all his feathered neighbors. He took them quite modestly,
assuring them that he had done nothing, nothing at all, but that
he didn't intend to have any of the Hawk family around the Old
Orchard while he lived there. Peter couldn't help but admire
Scrapper for his courage.
SCRAPER THE KINGBIRD. Look in the
Old Orchard for a bird with white breast, dark head and back,
and with a white tip to his tail.
REDEYE THE VIREO. The only Vireo with red eyes.
As Peter looked up at Scrapper he saw that, like all the rest of
the flycatchers, there was just the tiniest of hooks on the end
of his bill. Scrapper's slightly raised cap seemed all black, but
if Peter could have gotten close enough, he would have found that
hidden in it was a patch of orange-red. While Peter sat staring
up at him Scrapper suddenly darted out into the air, and his bill
snapped in quite the same way Chebec's did when he caught a fly.
But it wasn't a fly that Scrapper had. It was a bee. Peter saw it
very distinctly just as Scrapper snapped it up. It reminded Peter
that he had often heard Scrapper called the Bee Martin, and now
he understood why.
 "Do you live on bees altogether?" asked Peter.
"Bless your heart, Peter, no," replied Scrapper with a chuckle.
"There wouldn't be any honey if I did. I like bees. I like them
first rate. But they form only a very small part of my food.
Those that I do catch are mostly drones, and you know the drones
are useless. They do no work at all. It is only by accident that
I now and then catch a worker. I eat all kinds of insects that
fly and some that don't. I'm one of Farmer Brown's best friends,
if he did but know it. You can talk all you please about the
wonderful eyesight of the members of the Hawk family, but if any
one of them has better eyesight than I have, I'd like to know who
it is. There's a fly 'way over there beyond that old apple-tree;
watch me catch it."
Peter knew better than to waste any effort trying to see that
fly. He knew that he couldn't have seen it had it been only one
fourth that distance away. But if he couldn't see the fly he
could hear the sharp click of Scrapper's bill, and he knew by the
way Scrapper kept opening and shutting his mouth after his return
that he had caught that fly and it had tasted good.
"Are you going to build in the Old Orchard this year?" asked
"Of course I am," declared Scrapper. "I—"
 Just then he spied Blacky the Crow and dashed out to meet him.
Blacky saw him coming and was wise enough to suddenly appear to
have no interest whatever in the Old Orchard, turning away towards
the Green Meadows instead.
Peter didn't wait for Scrapper to return. It was getting high
time for him to scamper home to the dear Old Briar-patch and so
he started along, lipperty-lipperty-lip. Just as he was leaving
the far corner of the Old Orchard some one called him. "Peter!
Oh, Peter Rabbit!" called the voice. Peter stopped abruptly, sat
up very straight, looked this way, looked that way and looked the
other way, every way but the right way.
"Look up over your head," cried the voice, rather a harsh voice.
Peter looked, then all in a flash it came to him who it was
Chebec had meant by the handsomest member of his family. It was
Cresty the Great Crested Flycatcher. He was a wee bit bigger than
Scrapper the Kingbird, yet not quite so big as Welcome Robin, and
more slender. His throat and breast were gray, shading into
bright yellow underneath. His back and head were of a
grayish-brown with a tint of olive-green. A pointed cap was all
that was needed to make him quite distinguished looking. He
certainly was the handsomest as well as the largest of the
 "You seem to be in a hurry, so don't let me detain you, Peter,"
said Cresty, before Peter could find his tongue. "I just want to
ask one little favor of you."
"What is it?" asked Peter, who is always glad to do any one a
"If in your roaming about you run across an old cast-off suit of
Mr. Black Snake, or of any other member of the Snake family, I
wish you would remember me and let me know. Will you, Peter?"
"A—a—a—what?" stammered Peter.
"A cast-off suit of clothes from any member of the Snake family,"
replied Cresty somewhat impatiently. "Now don't forget, Peter.
I've got to go house hunting, but you'll find me there or
hereabouts, if it happens that you find one of those cast-off
Before Peter could say another word Cresty had flown away. Peter
hesitated, looking first towards the dear Old Briar-patch and
then towards Jenny Wren's house. He just couldn't understand
about those cast-off suits of the Snake family, and he felt sure
that Jenny Wren could tell him. Finally curiosity got the best of
him, and back he scampered, lipperty-lipperty-lip, to the foot of
the tree in which Jenny Wren had her home.
 "Jenny!" called Peter. "Jenny Wren! Jenny Wren!" No one answered
him. He could hear Mr. Wren singing in another tree, but he
couldn't see him. "Jenny! Jenny Wren! Jenny Wren!" called Peter
again. This time Jenny popped her head out, and her little eyes
fairly snapped. "Didn't I tell you the other day, Peter Rabbit,
that I'm not to be disturbed? Didn't I tell you that I've got
seven eggs in here, and that I can't spend any time gossiping?
Didn't I, Peter Rabbit? Didn't I? Didn't I?"
"You certainly did, Jenny. You certainly did, and I'm sorry to
disturb you," replied Peter meekly. "I wouldn't have thought of
doing such a thing, but I just didn't know who else to go to."
"Go to for what?" snapped Jenny Wren. "What is it you've come to
"Snake skins," replied Peter.
"Snake skins! Snake skins!" shrieked Jenny Wren. "What are you
talking about, Peter Rabbit? I never have anything to do with
Snake skins and don't want to. Ugh! It makes me shiver just to
think of it."
"You don't understand," cried Peter hurriedly. "What I want to
know is, why should Cresty the Flycatcher ask me to please let
him know if I found any cast-off suits of the Snake family? He
flew away before I could ask him why he wants
 them, and so I came
to you, because I know you know everything, especially everything
concerning your neighbors."
Jenny Wren looked as if she didn't know whether to feel flattered
or provoked. But Peter looked so innocent that she concluded he
was trying to say something nice.
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