I Love Animal Stories. Aesop

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      “This much I will tell you, Peter,” said Redwing; “our nest is somewhere in these bulrushes, and if you can find it we won't say a word, even if you don't keep the secret.”

      Then Redwing chuckled again and Mrs. Redwing chuckled with him. You see, they knew that Peter doesn't like water, and that nest was hidden in a certain clump of brown, broken-down rushes, with water all around. Suddenly Redwing flew up in the air with a harsh cry. “Run, Peter! Run!” he screamed. “Here comes Reddy Fox!”

      Peter didn't wait for a second warning. He knew by the sound of Redwing's voice that Redwing wasn't joking. There was just one place of safety, and that was an old hole of Grandfather Chuck's between the roots of the Big Hickory-tree. Peter didn't waste any time getting there, and he was none too soon, for Reddy was so close at his heels that he pulled some white hairs out of Peter's tail as Peter plunged headfirst down that hole. It was a lucky thing for Peter that that hole was too small for Reddy to follow and the roots prevented Reddy from digging it any bigger.

      For a long time Peter sat in Grandfather Chuck's old house, wondering how soon it would be safe for him to come out. For a while he heard Mr. and Mrs. Redwing scolding sharply, and by this he knew that Reddy Fox was still about. By and by they stopped scolding, and a few minutes later he heard Redwing's happy song. “That means,” thought Peter, “that Reddy Fox has gone away, but I think I'll sit here a while longer to make sure.”

      Now Peter was sitting right under the Big Hickory-tree. After a while he began to hear faint little sounds, little taps, and scratching sounds as of claws. They seemed to come from right over his head, but he knew that there was no one in that hole but himself. He couldn't understand it at all.

      Finally Peter decided it would be safe to peek outside. Very carefully he poked his head out. Just as he did so, a little chip struck him right on the nose. Peter pulled his head back hurriedly and stared at the little chip which lay just in front of the hole. Then two or three more little chips fell. Peter knew that they must come from up in the Big Hickory-tree, and right away his curiosity was aroused. Redwing was singing so happily that Peter felt sure no danger was near, so he hopped outside and looked up to find out where those little chips had come from. Just a few feet above his head he saw a round hole in the trunk of the Big Hickory-tree. While he was looking at it, a head with a long stout bill was thrust out and in that bill were two or three little chips. Peter's heart gave a little jump of glad surprise.

      “Yellow Wing!” he cried. “My goodness, how you startled me!”

      The chips were dropped and the head was thrust farther out. The sides and throat were a soft reddish-tan and on each side at the beginning of the bill was a black patch. The top of the head was gray and just at the back was a little band of bright red. There was no mistaking that head. It belonged to Yellow Wing the Flicker beyond a doubt.

      YELLOW WING THE FLICKER. The bright yellow of the underside of each wing, the black crescent across his breast and his spotted underparts make him easy to identify.

      “Hello, Peter!” exclaimed Yellow Wing, his eyes twinkling. “What are you doing here?”

      “Nothing,” replied Peter, “but I want to know what you are doing. What are all those chips?”

      “I'm fixing up this old house of mine,” replied Yellow Wing promptly. “It wasn't quite deep enough to suit me, so I am making it a little deeper. Mrs. Yellow Wing and I haven't been able to find another house to suit us, so we have decided to live here again this year.” He came wholly out and flew down on the ground near Peter. When his wings were spread, Peter saw that on the under sides they were a beautiful golden-yellow, as were the under sides of his tail feathers. Around his throat was a broad, black collar. From this, clear to his tail, were black dots. When his wings were spread, the upper part of his body just above the tail was pure white.

      “My,” exclaimed Peter, “you are a handsome fellow! I never realized before how handsome you are.”

      Yellow Wing looked pleased. Perhaps he felt a little flattered. “I am glad you think so, Peter,” said he. “I am rather proud of my suit, myself. I don't know of any member of my family with whom I would change coats.”

      A sudden thought struck Peter. “What family do you belong to?” He asked abruptly.

      “The Woodpecker family,” replied Yellow Wing proudly.

      Chapter XI.

       Drummers and Carpenters.

       Table of Contents

      Peter Rabbit was so full of questions that he hardly knew which one to ask first. But Yellow Wing the Flicker didn't give him a chance to ask any. From the edge of the Green forest there came a clear, loud call of, “Pe-ok! Pe-ok! Pe-ok!”

      “Excuse me, Peter, there's Mrs. Yellow Wing calling me,” exclaimed Yellow Wing, and away he went. Peter noticed that as he flew he went up and down. It seemed very much as if he bounded through the air just as Peter bounds over the ground. “I would know him by the way he flies just as far as I could see him,” thought Peter, as he started for home in the dear Old Briar-patch. “Somehow he doesn't seem like a Woodpecker because he is on the ground so much. I must ask Jenny Wren about him.”

      It was two or three days before Peter had a chance for a bit of gossip with Jenny Wren. When he did the first thing he asked was if Yellow Wing is a true Woodpecker.

      “Certainly he is,” replied Jenny Wren. “Of course he is. Why under the sun should you think he isn't?”

      “Because it seems to me he is on the ground more than he's in the trees,” retorted Peter. “I don't know any other Woodpeckers who come down on the ground at all.”

      “Tut, tut, tut, tut!” scolded Jenny. “Think a minute, Peter! Think a minute! Haven't you ever seen Redhead on the ground?”

      Peter blinked his eyes. “Ye-e-s,” he said slowly. “Come to think of it, I have. I've seen him picking up beechnuts in the fall. The Woodpeckers are a funny family. I don't understand them.”

      Just then a long, rolling rat-a-tat-tat rang out just over their heads. “There's another one of them,” chuckled Jenny. “That's Downy, the smallest of the whole family. He certainly makes an awful racket for such a little fellow. He is a splendid drummer and he's just as good a carpenter. He made the very house I am occupying now.”

      Peter was sitting with his head tipped back trying to see Downy. At first he couldn't make him out. Then he caught a little movement on top of a dead limb. It was Downy's head flying back and forth as he beat his long roll. He was dressed all in black and white. On the back of his head was a little scarlet patch. He was making a tremendous racket for such a little chap, only a little bigger than one of the Sparrow family.

      REDHEAD THE WOODPECKER. You will know him instantly by his all-red head.

      DOWNY THE WOODPECKER. His smaller size and the black bars on the white outer feathers of his tail distinguish him.

      “Is he making a hole for a nest up there?” asked Peter eagerly.

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