Bill very sharp and slender, curved like a surgeon's needle.

A Summer Citizen of northern North America.

A Tree Trapper.

CHAPTER XI

MOCKERS AND SCOLDERS

THE SAGE THRASHER

"I thought that more tree-trunk birds, such as Woodp.e.c.k.e.rs, would come next," said Rap.

"We are still taking the Birds that Sing," said the Doctor. "Woodp.e.c.k.e.rs have no real song; they belong to the Birds that Croak and Call; but the Nuthatch, Chickadee, and Brown Creeper each has a little tune of its own, as you have heard."

"Of course--I don't see why I said that, for I know Woodp.e.c.k.e.rs only hammer and croak," said Rap.

"The family of Mockers, Thrashers, and Wrens is one of the most interesting that we shall meet in our Birdland excursions, for all its members are bright intelligent birds and great talkers. They have something to say for themselves and say it so cleverly that we do not care if their feathers are of sober grays and browns. This family should be very proud of itself, but it does not show any false pride or exclusiveness; its different members are as sociable and friendly as possible, building their nests in bushes not far from the ground, and taking every occasion to chat confidentially with House People. Some of these friendly birds are the Sage Thrasher, the Mockingbird, the Catbird, the Brown Thrasher, the Rock Wren, the House Wren, and the Long-billed Marsh Wren, the last being the only really shy bird among the seven I am going to tell you about."

[Ill.u.s.tration: Sage Thrasher.]

"Do Wrens and Mockingbirds belong to the same family?" asked Nat. "One so little and one so big! Mother had a Mockingbird in a cage once, but it got out and flew away to live in the park, she thought."

"They are cousins and belong to the same large family, though to different households, like House People.

"The Sage Thrasher belongs only to the West, just as its relative the Brown Thrasher belongs to the eastern part of the country. When your Cousin Olive and I lived one summer here and there, from Colorado westward, it was this bird that made us feel at home by its sweet sociable music.

"Everywhere in that mountainous region the sagebrush, with its blue flower spikes, spreads over the ground, making a silvery greenness where other plants could not grow. In and out of the sage, nests and scratches and hops this Thrasher, taking its name from the plant. He also ventures up on the mountain sides, giving his inquisitive, questioning, mocking notes, and so earns a second name in those places, where he is called the Mountain Mockingbird.

"Though he is a good deal smaller than the true Mockingbird of the South, they have many points in common. They can both imitate almost any sound that strikes their fancy, such as the songs of other birds, whistle various tunes of their own, and almost mock the peculiarities of human speech. Not that they all do it--oh, no, many have only their own beautiful natural song; every Mockingbird has not the power of imitation, but certain members of the tribe acquire a knack of mockery of which they seem quite conscious.

"The Sage Thrasher, though gentle and sociable in its wild state, does not thrive in cages as well as the true Mocker. It seems to miss the broad expanse of plain and mountain to which it has been used, and seldom lives long in confinement.

"Read what you have written about the size and color of this Thrasher,"

said the Doctor to Rap.

The Sage Thrasher

Length eight inches.

Upper parts gray, tinged with brown.

Under parts white shaded to buff, and spotted thickly on the breast with very dark brown, almost black.

Two white bands on each wing, and white spots on the end of the tail.

A Summer Citizen of the western United States.

A Ground Gleaner, Tree Trapper, and Seed Sower. THE MOCKINGBIRD

"Mammy Bun knows about Mockingbirds," said Dodo. "She says the bushes were full of them down in Louisiana where she was born, and that sometimes they used to sit on the top of the cabins and sing so loud at night, when the moon shone, that the children couldn't go to sleep, and they had to throw sticks and things at them."

"Did the children throw sticks at the birds, or the birds pelt the children?" laughed the Doctor--for poor Dodo was famous for mixing up her sentences.

"No, no, Uncle Roy, neither; the children's _mothers_ threw the sticks at the Mockers."

"What else did Mammy Bun tell you?"

"Lots and lots of things, and a song, too, that her people used to sing about the Mockers, only I can't tell it as she does because you know she has a sort of language all her own."

"Suppose we ask mammy to come and tell us about the Mockingbirds herself," said Olive, "May we, father?"

"Certainly, if you can coax her."

The children followed Olive to the house and soon returned leading mammy, who was chuckling and out of breath, but evidently very much pleased to be asked. She could not be persuaded to try the apple-tree perch, so they made her a sort of throne at the foot of the tree and sat respectfully in a row in front of her. Mammy wore a dark-blue print dress with white figures on it, but as she was one of the good old sort, she had a plaid handkerchief tied turban fashion round her head. As she talked she rolled her eyes and waved her hands a good deal, and her words had a soft comfortable sound like mola.s.ses pouring out of a big stone jug.

"Does I know de mockin'bird, I reck'n so--'bout de fust t'ing I did know, 'cept how ter suck sugar-cane. Sugar-cane am good eatin' long in de 'arly fall, but de Mocker ain't doin' much singin' dese yer times, least not 'less he's in a cage in a good sunshiny place. He am a kind ob a peart gray bird, darker in some places, lighter in oders, and clean as a parson. But come 'long spring and time for droppin' de cottin seed, de Mocker he know mighty well what's a-doin'. 'Long in March he comes inter de bushes and orange scrub round de field a-makin' a fuss and tellin'

folks to git along to work, or dere won't be no cottin, and he keep it straight up all de day long till cottin's out o' bloom. All de day long kind o' chatterin' and hurryin' de n.i.g.g.e.rs up when dere a-droppin' de seed in de line, and scoldin' and hurryin' all de day long, when dere a-hoein' down de weeds. Den when it come night, de she-bird keep close onter de nest, and de he-bird go in de scrub or de redwoods or de gin'gos, nigh de clarin', maybe right on de cabin roof, and he say to hisself--'Now dem n.i.g.g.e.rs done dere work, I'll gib 'em a tune ter courage 'em like.' Den he jes' let hisself onter his singin'. Sometime he sing brave and bold, like he say big words like missis and de folks dat lib in de big house. Den he whisper soft an' low widout any words, jes' like a mammy was a-singin' to her baby. Den agin he sing kin' o'

long and soft and wheedlesome, like Sambo when he come a-courtin' o' me.

Sho, now! come to t'ink o' Sambo, he didn't nebber like Mockers, a'ter one time he 'spicioned a Mocker tole tales on him. Ma.s.sa Branscome--he were a mighty fine man and your gran'dad, Miss Olive--he say he wouldn't have no puss'n to rob de nests o' Mockers, not anywheres on his 'states.

Dey did eat a pile o' fruit, but dat was nuffin'. Fus' place he jes'

loved ter hear 'em sing, an' den he 'lowed dat dey was powerful fond o'

cottin worms, what was mighty bad some years.

"Now lots o' c.o.o.n darkies dey uster steal de youn' Mockers jes' afore dey lef' de nest and sell 'em to white trash dat ud tote 'em down the ribber an' sell 'em agin in N'Orleans, to be fetched off in ships. And I'se hear tell dat dere ain't any sech birds in oder countries, and dat de kings and queens jes' gib dere gold crowns offen dere heads t' have a cage o' Mockers.

"Dem c.o.o.ns nebber got no gold crowns, howsumever. What dey got was mos'ly a quarter foh free he-birds. Now Sambo he was a-courtin' an'

wanted a banjo powerful bad, an' he didn't want no common truck, so he 'lowed to get one up from N'Orleans. So he 'greed to pay for it in Mockers, an' he to'ht he know'd where he'd get 'em foh sure. Mockers don' nes' in de woods and wild places, dey allus keeps roun' de plantations near where folks libs.

"He know'd he war doin' wrong and he felt mighty uncomfoh'ble; but he done took de youn' Mockers on our plantation right under ma.s.sa's nose.

He war crafty like and on'y took one outen each nes' and at night de ole birds never miss 'em. When he got de banjo 'bout paid foh, dat time he took a whole nes'ful to onc't an' de birds what it b'longed to saw what he war a-doin' an' gib him a piece o' dere mind, an' folled him 'round all day an' sat on de roof ob his quarters an' talked all night, 'an tole him to bring back dem Mockers or dey'd tell; an' Sambo war skeered an' wanted to put de birds back an' den he didn't like to. Nex' day, he 'lowed de he-Mocker wen' to de big house, an' tole ma.s.sa 'bout it, an'

he an' Miss Jessamine--dat was your ma--dey come down to de quarters an'

tole Sambo he done took Mockers an' ask him what had he done wid all on 'em. An' he mos' turn' white an' he say, 'I sol' 'em down de ribber'; an' ma.s.sa say, 'I'se a great mind to sell you down de ribber, too'--but he nebber sol' nuffin'--gib us all our freedom. Now, no n.i.g.g.e.r want' to be sol' down de ribber, an' Sambo say, 'Oh, Miss Jessamine, dere's f'ree I didn' sell, an' I'll gib 'em back to dat he-bird, an' ax his pardin.'

Ma.s.sa he laff and say, 'If dat he-bird will 'scuse you, I will.' So Sambo put 'em back an' de he-bird act' s'if he know'd an' talk' a lot o'

good advice to Sambo, but I'se sh.o.r.e 't war anoder n.i.g.g.e.r w'at tole on Sam.

[Ill.u.s.tration: Mockingbird.]

"Dey uster have a song 'bout de Mockers roun' de cabins, an' a dance went wid it, 'cause it was a berry long song; but aftah dat Sambo done change it some when he uster sing it."

Mammy then chanted a verse, keeping time by beating her hands on her knees.