THE OLD HOMESTEAD TALES

THE BLUEBIRDS & THEIR NEIGHBOURS
By Neil Wayne Northey - 1930

CHAPTER I

Back to the Old Homestead

ANOTHER winter was almost over in the Chilly Northland. Of course, there would still be stormy days with some snow and sleet, be­cause it was only the second week in March. But down along Little River, which ran through, the old Homestead, the Budding Pussy Willows pro­claimed that Jolly Spring was near.

It had been four months since Mr. and Mrs. Bluebird had left the old Homestead with their family and gone to the Sunny Southland to spend the winter. Now, Mr. Bluebird was on his way back north. As usual, he had left Mrs. Bluebird behind, for he thought it would be better if he reached the Old Homestead early and took pos­session of the hollow post by the Apple Orchard, which had been their nesting place during three summers. And so he had braved the blustery weather of early spring in the Land of Cold Breezes, while Mrs. Bluebird remained to enjoy a few more days of play in the Sunny Southland.

Mr. Bluebird sat on the bare branch of a roadside tree thinking. He had been resting and feeding almost all day. He was thinking about the Nesting Post, and wondering if it would still be standing when he arrived at the Old Homestead.

"Ha ha-ha-ha," laughed some one near by. Mr. Bluebird knew the voice of his old neighbor, Robin Red, who last year had built a nest in the Red Cedar that stood in the yard of the Old Homestead. He was right glad to see Robin Red, for they had often met in the Apple Orchard and in the Green Meadow when they had been n in search of food for their babies.

Robin Red had been a very good neighbor. He always minded his own business, and he was al­ways jolly. It was never too cold and it was never too wet for him to sit on the topmost branch of the Big Elm near the Red Cedar and sing to his family. Mr. Bluebird believed in taking care of his own affairs also, and so they had got along fine together.

"Hello, Mr. Bluebird," said Robin Red. "I am glad that we are going to be neighbors again this summer, for, of course, you are going back to the Old Homestead."

"I hope that we may be neighbors," replied Mr. Bluebird thoughtfully, "but I have been worried about the Nesting Post by the Apple Orchard. I heard Farmer Smith say last summer that he ex­pected to take up the old fence before the ground froze, and build a new one. I do hope he left the Nesting Post."

Robin Red did not mean to be unsympathetic, but he was at least a little thoughtless. "You should build a new nest every summer' as I do, and then you wouldn't have to worry," he said.

"Perhaps you are right," replied Mr. Bluebird, "but I know that Mrs. Bluebird would never agree to do that. It wouldn't seem like home if we changed every year. What shall I tell her if the Nesting Post is gone?"

"Where did you spend the winter?" asked Robin Red.

"In Mexico," replied Mr. Bluebird, "and I am anxious to get back to the Old Homestead where it isn't so crowded. It seems as if every one goes south to live during the winter."

"I guess that is true," agreed Robin Red. "The Old Homestead with its Apple Orchard and Green Meadow and Little River and Duck Pond suits me."

It was growing dark, and Mr. Bluebird was anx­ious to be on his way. "I must be going," he said, "or I shall not reach the Old Homestead by morning."

"Ha ha-ha-ha," laughed Robin Red, "I'll be along in a few days."

It was not yet light the next morning when Mr. Bluebird reached the Old Homestead, so he sought the sheltering boughs of the Red Cedar, and rested. When golden fingers began to streak the east, an­nouncing that the Laughing Yellow Sun was about to appear, he flew to the Big Elm, which stood near by with its bare arms reaching skyward. From it he flew to the housetop. Somehow he could not get up courage to go at once to the Nesting Post.

From the housetop he could hear Farmer Smith stirring around within, and soon the odor of wood smoke came to Mr. Bluebird from the chimney. He hopped across to the top of the woodshed back of the house, and waited until Farmer Smith went to the barn with his milk pails. Then he flew to the Apple Orchard. The Nesting Post was gone!

CHAPTER 2

Mr. Bluebird Meets Old Friends

IT WAS a very blue bluebird, in feeling as well as in color, that sat on the leafless branch of an apple tree and stared at the spot where the Nesting Post had been. The Nesting Post was gone; there was no doubt about that.

"How can I tell Mrs. Bluebird when she ar­rives?" he said to himself.

And then he thought he might find another Nesting Place that would suit her if he looked around. He felt quite sure it would save a lot of worry if they built a new nest every year as Robin Red had suggested and as Robin Red did himself, but he could not for the life of him see how they would be able to make it stay on the bare branches of a tree. That was too much for Mr. Blue­bird; and, besides, he knew that Mrs. Bluebird liked more seclusion in her home than there was in an open-topped nest. No, that would never do.

Mr. Bluebird heard a clear whistle that came from the vicinity of the Hedgerow, which grew along the back of the Apple Orchard.

"That's Bobby White," he said; "I believe I'll just fly over and see what he has to say for himself. Perhaps he can help me."

He saw Bobby sitting in the shelter of the Hedgerow before Bobby knew that he was near. And what is more, Bobby had his whole family with him. You see, Bobby White is not much of a traveler. In fact, he probably never would leave his old home more than a few miles if he were not frightened away. As there was never any hunting done on the Old Homestead, Bobby felt that it was a safe place to stay. He liked the shelter and seclu­sion of the Hedgerow; and he never failed to find some cracked wheat or barley or millet when the snow was deep, which Bud Smith always thought­fully provided.

"Hello, everybody," chirped Mr. Bluebird, from his perch on the nearest tree.

Bobby White and his family whistled their sur­prise. "Are you back this early?" asked Bobby.

"Tru-ally, tru-ally," replied Mr. Bluebird, "and right glad I am to be. But our Nesting Post is gone, and now I shall have to find another place. I thought you might be able to suggest something that would help me."

Bobby White walked over so that he would be a little closer to Mr. Bluebird, and stood on one foot while he thought.

"Why don't you build a nest on the ground as I do?" asked Bobby. "It is no trick at all, and I have seen any number of good places in the Hedgerow. I am sure there are enough for all of us."

Now, Bobby looked upon the Hedgerow as his own private grounds, and Mr. Bluebird thought it was very generous of him to offer a building place.

The summer before, Bobby had invited Woodsy Thrush to build his nest anywhere he chose in the Hedgerow, and Woodsy had found a place to Mrs. Thrush's liking in a secluded part and far enough above ground to be safe from Hunting Cat and Snoop the Weasel and other enemies.

Mr. Bluebird knew that it would never do for him to follow Bobby's suggestion, much as he ap­preciated the offer.

"You see how it is, Bobby," he said. "Your coat almost exactly matches the Hedgerow; and if you don't move, your enemies are not likely to see you, whereas it is hard for me to hide. And then, your babies are soon able to take care of themselves, while mine must be fed and kept in the nest until they can fly. If they were on the ground, I am sure Hunting Cat would get them."

There was a tapping on a near-by apple tree, and Mr. Bluebird looked up in time to see Downy the Woodpecker remove a fat grub and swallow it.

Evidently he had heard what Mr. Bluebird had said about nest building.

"Why don't you make a hole in a tree for your nest as I do?" he asked.

Mr. Bluebird felt very helpless. Here was an­other friend offering a suggestion; but he knew that his bill was never intended to be used for a wood drill. Downy believed in using his head, but he used it more for a wood chisel than he did for thinking. He had pecked at trees so much that he was fairly cross-eyed.

There was no use denying the fact, Mr. Bluebird was getting discouraged. It seemed as if all his freinds were ready to give advice, as friends usually are, and they meant well, as friends always do, but what he wanted was help. How could he build a nest in a tree every year like Robin Red, or on the ground like Bobby White, or how could he peck a hole for one like Downy the Woodpecker?

Then he had an idea, and it seemed so good to him that he flew straight to the top of the Ram­bling Old Barn without even, thinking to thank his friends for their friendly suggestions. Mrs. Bluebird would be arriving one of these days, and something had to be done soon.  

CHAPTER 3

Mr. Bluebird Sees Molly Cottontail

THE barn on the Old Homestead was a large rambling building with a cow shed along one side and a machine shelter on the other. It had a great hayloft where Bud and Mary Smith liked to romp with their friends on rainy days. It was so much fun to hear the patter of the Wet Little Rain­drops on the broad roof, while inside all was cozy and dry.

When there was not too much hay in the loft, Farmer Smith let Bud and Mary build a swing from the, rafters. Bud also built a high trapeze above the hay pile in one end of the loft, where he and other boys could tumble in true circus fashion, with a bed of soft hay to catch them when they jumped.

Mr. Bluebird perched on the peak of the spread­ing roof and looked around. From the top of the Rambling Old Barn he could see almost the whole farm. He could see the Grand Old House and the Apple Orchard and the Hedgerow. Then there was Little River winding through the Green Meadow, and off to the right was the Duck Pond. Along one side of the Old Homestead was High Cliff, where Aquila the Golden Eagle lived, and across one end was the Black Forest, the home of Reddy Fox and Shadow the Lynx and Sharpshin the Hawk.

It was a beautiful scene, but Mr. Bluebird was thinking of other things. He remembered that a colony of Cliff Swallows had built a row of juglike houses under the eaves of the Rambling Old Barn the summer before, and he was wondering if one of these would not make a good nest for him and Mrs. Bluebird. The houses were made of mud and straw and feathers stuck together, and fastened in some mysterious way to the bare board under the eaves.

Dauber the Cliff Swallow was a natural mason. Bud and Mary sometimes called him Eave Swallow. His house was inclosed except for the round opening leading out through a short porchlike doorway, and Mr. Bluebird knew that such an arrangement would keep Noisy the English Spar­row from nosing in where he was not wanted. Mr. Bluebird thought he could use one of Dauber's houses even though he did not like the location.

And so Mr. Bluebird had come to the Rambling Old Barn to see if he could find one of Dauber's houses that he could rent for the summer. He thought that Dauber would not mind building another, as it was no trouble for him.

Mr. Bluebird flew from the top of the barn and looked under the eaves. Every nest was gone! Painters had given the barn a new coat of red, and when doing so had scraped away the dried mud nests so that they could paint the boards.

Again Mr. Bluebird was troubled. He was also hungry. And so he flew over to the Green Meadow to see if he could find some bugs or some dried berries on the vines and bushes that grew in places along the banks of Little River. It was too early in the spring for many bugs to be flying, but Mr. Blue­bird had expected that when he came north. In the Sunny Southland he had eaten the waxy berries of the mistletoe and other fruit, and he thought he could find something as good along Little River.

It was here that he met Molly Cottontail. Molly Cottontail's home was in a Friendly Burrow that Digger the Badger had dug over at the foot of High Cliff near the Little Jungle Thicket. Molly liked to visit, and for that reason she was seldom home. Of course, she never went so far from home that she could not scamper back when Great Horn the Owl or Reddy Fox or Shadow the Lynx came along.

Tattler the Jay had told Molly Cottontail that he had seen some Clover Leaves and Tender Grass Shoots peeping through the ground in sheltered places in the Green Meadow, and Molly had gone there to see if she could find some. It was farther from home than she liked to go, but she had found another Friendly Burrow that Billy Coon had dug in the bank along Little River, which was deep enough for her to run into for protection if she needed to.

That is how Molly Cottontail happened to be in the Green Meadow when Mr. Bluebird flew there to hunt for bugs and dried berries. She sat up on her hind legs and wiggled her nose in surprise when she saw Mr. Bluebird. And Mr. Bluebird was even more surprised to see Molly Cottontail.

"Dear me, how you frightened me!" exclaimed Molly. "I thought you were Sharpshin the Hawk when I saw your shadow."

"I thought you were Hunting Cat," said Mr. Bluebird.

Now, if there is one thing more than another that Mr. Bluebird can do well, it is to tell when spring is near. So when he arrives in the Chilly Northland, it is a sure sign that Jolly Spring is just around the corner.

That is one reason why Molly was so glad to see Mr. Bluebird. There had been lots of snow during the winter, and some days she had had a hard time to find something to eat. Sometimes she nibbled the tender bark from the shrubs that grew along Little River, and once she let Bud Smith know she was hungry by eating some of the bark off the young fruit trees in the Apple Orchard.

Of course, that was wrong, but what was Molly Cottontail to do when there was nothing else in sight to eat? Then Bud built a rack and placed it near Molly's Friendly Burrow. He kept it filled with clover and alfalfa that had been dried green. The rack had a wide roof over it to catch the snow so that Molly would have no trouble getting food.

CHAPTER 4

Mr. Bluebird Hears Good News

IT HAD been almost five months since Molly Cottontail had seen Mr. Bluebird. Many things had happened on the Old Homestead while Mr. Bluebird was in the Sunny Southland. And if there was anyone who knew everything that happened, it was Molly. She had gone from one place to an­other until she had worn trails everywhere.

Of course, she always kept near to a patch of Jungle Thicket, or the Hedgerow, or a Friendly Burrow, so that she could hide whenever Reddy Fox or other enemies came around. She knew the location of every Friendly Burrow on the Old Homestead.

Molly Cottontail dearly loved to visit. So she started right in to tell Mr. Bluebird all the news. "Johnny Chuck moved his home a little farther up High Cliff so that he can lie in the sun on warm spring days, and Worker the Gray Squirrel lives in the old tree in the corner of the rail fence, and Billy Coon made a new home in the Hollow Den Tree near the end of the bridge that crosses Little River, and Digger the Badger stays in a Friendly Burrow that he made over by the corn patch, and Tawny Chipmunk went to sleep in a den under a big rock near Johnny Chuck. I haven't seen any of them very often because all they do is sleep during cold weather. Why, do you know, Tawny Chipmunk is still sleeping ! I don't see what fun folks have staying inside half of their lives. You don't catch me curling up inside a hole and staying there for months. No, siree ! "

Molly Cottontail had talked so fast she was out of breath, and had to stop.

"What are you doing here?" asked Mr. Bluebird. "I came to the Green Meadow to live until things begin to grow up by High Cliff," replied Molly.

"How is Peter, your husband?" asked Mr. Bluebird.            Molly bit off a Clover Leaf and sighed: "He went over to the Big Jungle Thicket in the Black Forest in search of Tender Grass Shoots to eat, and I haven't seen him for a longtime," she said. "I do hope he comes home to our own Jun­gle Thicket soon.

She did not tell Mr. Bluebird she was afraid something had happened to Peter because he had been gone so many days. She thought that would not interest Mr. Bluebird, anyway.

What he was interested in most was in finding a Nesting Place. He almost wished that he could live in a Friendly Burrow like Molly Cottontail and Johnny Chuck and Digger the Badger and others.

Mr. Bluebird decided he would ask Molly Cot­tontail if she had seen a Nesting Place. She seemed to know everything about the Old Homestead.

"Of course, you know that the Nesting Post by the Apple Orchard is gone," he said, "and now I must find another. Do you know where there is one that would please Mrs. Bluebird?"

Molly Cottontail twitched her nose as some people do when they smile. "Of course I do,"' she replied. "I know the very place: But surely you have seen the new Nesting Box if you have been up by the Grand Old House. Bud Smith built it, and I think he made it especially for you. It is standing in the corner of the front yard near the Big Elm."

That was good news to Mr. Bluebird. "I think the reason I didn't see it is that it wasn't very light when I was there this morning, and I was thinking about the Nesting Post near the Apple Orchard."

Mr. Bluebird couldn't wait to see the new Nest­ing Box that Bud had made for him. No, sir, he just couldn't wait. He might have known that Bud would give him another home when Farmer Smith took the old one away to build a new fence around the Apple Orchard. Bud Smith was that kind of boy. Mr. Bluebird was glad to hear that he had a new Nesting Box, because he knew that the Old Nesting Post had been getting shaky.

"Tru-ally, tru-ally, that is the best news I have heard," he said, "and I must fly right over and see that new Nesting Box."

It was getting dark when Mr. Bluebird left Molly Cottontail. It was so dark that he couldn't see the new Nesting Box very well when he perched in the Big Elm. But he could see enough to make him feel very, very sad.

There was Mrs. Noisy the English Sparrow sticking her head out of the door of his new home, and Mr. Noisy was sitting on the front porch as cocky as you please.

CHAPTER 5

Mr. Bluebird Has Help

MR. BLUEBIRD was disappointed. It was enough to discourage anyone to see some one else in his home. He didn't know what to do, but he knew he would have to do something. He knew that Mr. and Mrs. Noisy would never give up his house without a fight, and Mr. Bluebird dis­liked fights. He worried about the affair all night.

Mr. Bluebird was still thinking about it the next morning and wondering what to do. He wasn't quite sure that with Mrs. Bluebird's help he would be able to get possession of the Nesting Box. He wished that she were there to help though. And so
Mr. Bluebird sat around all day worrying, while Mr. and Mrs. Noisy the English Sparrows chat­tered and bragged and fussed among themselves and with every one else that came near. The were making such a fuss that Bud Smith wondered what they were doing when he came home from school. Then he saw Mr. Bluebird for the first time that year.

"Mr. Bluebird is back," he shouted t Mary; "Jolly Spring must be here." He drove Mr. and Mrs Noisy the English Sparrows away from the Nesting Box, but they came right back as soon as he left. Bud didn't like that because he had made the Nesting Box for Mr. Bluebird. But Noisy the English Sparrow is very rude. His bad manners make him unwelcome wherever he goes. He bothers people and bullies the other birds in a way that makes him a pest. None of the Wild Creatures like him.

He is not at all like his American cousins the True Sparrows and Song Sparrows and White­ throated Sparrows and Chipping Sparrows and others, who are really good neighbors.

Sometimes we are blamed because of something our relations do, and that is the way it is with the Sparrows. Just because Noisy the English Sparrow is an outlaw, all the other Sparrows have been disgraced.

"I think I didn't make the Nesting Box quite right,”said Bud Smith. He went to the shop and built another. It was just like the first one except that the doorway was nearer the top, and there was no porch in front.

Bud took the first one down and put up the other. Of course, Mr and Mrs Noisy the English Sparrows came right away to take possession of it. They lit on the top and peeked over at the little round door There was nothing in front to stand on before hopping inside.

Mr. Noisy tried to fly into the hole without stop­ping outside. He bumped his head on the side of the box, and returned to the roof to think about it Then Mrs Noisy tried to get inside. Yes, sir! She would show Mr. Noisy how to do it. She tried to hold to the side of the box but it was too smooth. She didn't know how to hang on, and she couldn't get inside without first hanging on.

It was a very busy time that Mr and Mrs Noisy the English Sparrows had. They chattered and they scolded. They tried this way and that to get into the Nesting Box. They kept it up until the Long Shadows came and drove them away for the night. And they spent half of the next day trying before they finally learned how to get inside. Whatever else Noisy the English Sparrow may be, he is not a quitter.

Mr. Bluebird was amused at their awkward at­tempts to get inside. After they left, he flew to the round door, clutched the bottom edge of it, and looked around. Then he ducked his head slightly, and went inside. It was so easy for Mr. Bluebird that he really could not understand why Mr. and Mrs. Noisy had such a time.

Mr. Bluebird looked around inside. The box smelled new and fresh, and it was just the right size. He was sure that Mrs. Bluebird would like it. Then he came outside. The Nesting Box was fas­tened to the top of an iron pipe so that Hunting Cat could not climb up. The next day Mr. and Mrs. Noisy visited the Nesting Box again, but after going inside once or twice they left in disgust.

"I am sure I can find a handier nesting place than this," said Mrs. Noisy impatiently, as they flew away; and Mr. Bluebird felt quite, safe. He was anxious for Mrs. Bluebird to come so he could show her their new home.

At last Mr. Bluebird was happy. He sat on top of his new home and sang his thanks. "Tru-ally, tru-ally, this is a fine Nesting Box," he said. Bud Smith heard him, and he was happy also.

Mr. Bluebird felt hungry. He had been so busy visiting old friends that he had not eaten much since he arrived at the Old Homestead, He decided to fly to the Big Jungle Thicket in the edge of the Black Forest and see if he could find some dried berries to eat. It was a foolish thing for him to do. Right that minute Sharpshin the Hawk was sitting on a dead limb in the Black Forest watching for a bird, because he was hungry himself And he saw Mr. Bluebird as he flashed across the field toward the Big Jungle Thicket.

"Bluebird would taste quite good for supper," he said to himself "I believe I'll just fly around among the trees and see if I can't surprise Mr. Bluebird. Yes, sir, I think I'll go over to the Big Jungle Thicket and catch Mr. Bluebird before he knows I am near."

Sharpshin the Hawk spread his sharp toes as he thought how much fun it would be to sink them into Mr. Bluebird. Then he spread his strong wings and sailed away silently through the Long Shadows of the Black Forest.