Once when we were dining in the pasture we found out the cause of the booming noise we had often heard sounding through the woods. Two men, each carrying in his hand a long club, shaped large at one end, appeared in the meadow and began looking among the long gra.s.ses which sheltered the nests of some meadow larks. A number of the larks were on the wing, others sat on the rail fence rolling out cadenzas in concert in a gush of melody from their downy throats. The men moved cautiously nearer under cover of the weeds. Raising their long clubs to their shoulders they gazed along their narrow points a moment.
Without exactly knowing why, we took alarm, and larks, bobolinks, and cowbirds sped upward like the wind. At the same instant something bright shimmered in the sunlight, and with it a horrid burst of noise and a puff of smoke. We did not all get away, for some of the beautiful larks fell to the ground pierced by the sportsman"s deadly hail.
Again and again, all through that long, sad day we heard the ominous booming crash, and knew the savage work of killing was going on.
Among our acquaintances was a lame redbird who at one time had been trapped and made a prisoner, confined behind the bars of a wire cell for many weeks and months. Luckily he made his escape one day when his grated door was accidentally opened, and he speedily made his way back to his dearly loved forest.
During the period of his imprisonment in the city he had picked up a great deal of information regarding the bird trade, and some of the facts recited by him of the terrible cruelties perpetrated and the carnage which had been going on for years, almost caused our feathers to stand upright in horror as we listened.
CHAPTER V
"DON"T, JOHNNY"
Farewell happy fields, where Joy forever dwells.
--_Milton._
A very pleasant, sociable fellow was this redbird, and often when on hot afternoons we were hiding in the treetops from the rays of the sun he told us stories and anecdotes about the people he had seen while he lived in the city.
He and his brother had been caught in a trap in the woods set by a farmer"s boy. One cold spring morning when the boy came to look at his trap he was overjoyed to find he had snared two redbirds, and forthwith carried them to the village nearby and sold them to the grocer for five cents apiece, which sum he said he was going to invest in a rubber ball.
As he put the dime into his coat pocket he told the man that one of the birds was named Admiral Dewey and the other Napoleon Bonaparte. The groceryman agreed that these names were good enough names for anybody, but he thought he"d change Bonaparte"s name to Teddy Roosevelt, as being easier to p.r.o.nounce, and the two birds were accordingly given these t.i.tles then and there. Not having any cage at hand to put them in, the man thought that for a few days the new-comers could share the quarters of an old sparrow he had in the rear end of the store until an extra cage could be procured.
But alas for Teddy Roosevelt! The very first night he was ignominiously whipped by the spiteful occupant of the cage, who resented having these country visitors thrust into his house without his leave. Poor Teddy died the next day. Admiral Dewey stood the battle better than his unfortunate friend, but he too was pecked at in a way so threatening that the groceryman concluded it would be wise to get rid of him immediately. Because the admiral had not defended himself better from his pet"s attack, the grocer regarded him with some disgust.
"Being as there was two of you and only one of the sparrow, "pears as if you hadn"t much grit," he said. "I would better take your high-soundin" name away from you and call you something else besides Dewey, if you can"t fight."
For all the man"s censure, the redbird knew that if Teddy Roosevelt had killed the sparrow instead of being killed by it, the grocer would have been much more grieved at the loss, for he had heard him say the sparrow was like one of his family. The man forgot that the result might have been different if the redbirds had been older.
Having decided to dispose of the admiral, the grocer, who had an errand in the city the next day, carried the bird with him. He knew of a probable customer for it in a gentleman named Morris, who had been advertising in the papers for a redbird. He soon found the street and number where was located the gentleman"s office, at which the advertis.e.m.e.nt was to be answered, and displayed the admiral.
"Your bird looks kind of ragged, as though he hadn"t been treated well," said Mr. Morris, as he examined the scarlet plumage. "My boy wants a redbird, and I promised him one if he would get the highest grade in arithmetic in his cla.s.s this term and he did it, so of course I must keep my word. What d"ye ask for this bird?"
"He"d be cheap at five dollars," answered the groceryman. "A nice redbird is hard to get, and they"re powerful nice singers, but bein" as it"s for your boy that has earned it by studying his lessons so good--I always like a boy that is fond of his books--you can have it for two dollars and a quarter."
As he had paid but five cents for it this advance in price would be a fine business speculation. After a little further talk, Mr. Morris counted out the money, and the man went back to his home doubtless wishing he had a hundred more redbirds to sell at the same handsome profit. After he had gone, Mr. Morris went to a box hanging against the wall, and turning a handle began talking to the box as if it were a human being. Though it was just a plain wooden box, the admiral said there was something mysterious about it, for Mr. Morris actually seemed to be carrying on a conversation with it, though the bird could not hear what the box answered, but he felt sure it talked back.
Mr. Morris" residence was a fine stone house with wide porches and sunny bay windows, over which were trained graceful creeping vines. A boy of about eleven years of age and a very pretty lady stood arm in arm on the broad steps leading up to the front entrance that evening when Mr. Morris and the admiral arrived. They were Johnny Morris and his mother, who had already learned that Mr. Morris had bought the bird and would bring it when he came to dinner. The admiral discovered the next day that Mrs. Morris owned a box like the one at the office, into which she talked, and that it was called a telephone. He often mentioned this mysterious box as one of the most remarkable things he saw during his stay among men.
Johnny Morris capered and danced and jumped so hard in the exuberance of his joy at receiving the redbird that all the way to the sitting room his mother was coaxing him to be quiet.
"Don"t act so foolishly," she begged; but he only capered and kicked up his heels still harder. When the cage was placed on a stand in the bay window he pranced around it, whistled and chirped, threw the bottom of the cage floor full of seed and splashed the water about so recklessly in his attempts to be friendly as nearly to frighten the poor admiral to pieces.
"Now, Johnny, don"t," pleaded his mother.
"Johnny, don"t do that," commanded his father every few minutes.
It was a constant "Don"t, Johnny, do this" and "Don"t, Johnny, do that," until, the admiral said, the conversation was so mixed up with "Don"t-Johnny"s" as made it almost unintelligible. Of course these expostulations made not a bit of impression on Johnny Morris. To be sure, he might stop for the moment, but the next second he was doing something else which brought a fresh round of "Don"t-Johnny"s" from each parent.
He was such a generous, affectionate, pretty boy, with his rosy cheeks and wavy yellow hair, it was a great pity that he should keep a whole household in a state of constant commotion by his habit of not promptly minding when he was spoken to. His father and mother were very indulgent to him, and the admiral believed he had every kind of a toy known to the boy world. He also had a machine to ride on, which they called a "wheel." On this he went out occasionally, although Mrs.
Morris declared she never felt at ease a minute while he was gone, because he never came back at the hour he promised he would. Besides this, he had a dear little pony, named Jock, on whose back he often cantered about the big park. Frequently from the bay window the admiral watched him as he mounted Jock and rode away, while his mother stood on the house step and called after him as long as he was in sight: "Don"t ride in that reckless way, Johnny; you"ll tumble off," or "Don"t, Johnny; the pony will throw you," at which Johnny would laugh and make the pony go faster.
Among the boy"s other possessions was a parrot, which the admiral a.s.serted was the smartest bird in the world. She was a highly educated parrot, and much time had been spent on her training, and she was usually very willing to show off to company all her various accomplishments. Occasionally she a.s.sumed an air of offended dignity when asked to display her talents, and no amount of threats or coaxing could change her purpose. At such times she impatiently flapped her wings and croaked "No, no" in her harshest tones.
Her favorite retreat when her temper was ruffled was on the back of an armchair, where she would sit with her bill in the air and her head c.o.c.ked disdainfully on one side, pretending not to hear or see any one.
In her affable moods, however, no one could be more complaisant and entertaining than Bessie.
Her name was an uncommon one for a parrot. Strangers usually accosted her as Polly, at which mistake she was greatly displeased.
"No, no--not Polly; call me Bessie," she would scream, so angrily that it always made people laugh, which angered her still more.
Bessie could sing a verse of an old-time song, at least she thought she could. The admiral said nothing could have induced him to sing for company if his voice had been as harsh and cracked as hers, but he said it was a fact that everybody seemed to enjoy her noise more than his music; that when she took up her position on top of the piano to sing, they crowded around and called her "nice Bessie," "nice lady," and praised her, and gave her bits of sugar, as if she were the finest singer in the world. The admiral thought they showed very poor taste, for her music was simply horrid and couldn"t compare with the warblings of the woods birds. It is well, however, to make allowance for the admiral"s opinion, for musicians are proverbially jealous of each other.
The song the parrot sang was "Listen to the Mocking Bird," to which Mrs. Morris played a little gliding accompaniment on the piano. Great hand-clappings always followed the performance. These Bessie accepted with an air of studied indifference. But if for the purpose of teasing her they did not applaud her performance, she shrilly screamed: "Bessie"s a good bird, a good bird I tell you," raising her voice higher and higher at each repet.i.tion.
Then she would wait a moment for some one to a.s.sure her that she was indeed a very good bird, quite the smartest bird that ever breathed.
But if these soothing a.s.surances were not quickly forthcoming, she would retire to the back of her favorite chair and, elevating her bill to show her disdain, sulk in silence.
"Did she like you?" I asked the admiral one day when he was telling us about her funny tricks.
"No, she was a little bit jealous of me; yet she was not unfriendly, except when Johnny or some other member of the family paid me attention. She always wanted to be the center of attraction herself, which showed she was a vain creature. No matter how silent she had been or how firmly she might have refused to talk only the minute before, if Johnny came to my cage and called, "h.e.l.lo, Admiral! you"re a daisy," Bessie immediately struck up such a chattering as would almost deafen one.
""Johnny dear, open my cage. I want to take a walk," she would say in her most coaxing manner. If she happened to be already out of her cage and walking about the room, she endeavored to get him to leave me by saying: "Here, Johnny, boy, put me on your finger. Kiss poor Bessie--p-o-o-r Bessie."
"Mrs. Morris used to laugh at these schemes of the parrot to attract notice, and said Bessie reminded her of some people she had met who always wanted to monopolize the conversation."
"Monopolize?" said I. "That"s a large word. I don"t know the meaning of it."
"Well, I think it means getting the most of anything and crowding other people out," replied the admiral; "and it was true in Bessie"s case, for she always wanted the most attention. A gentleman friend of the Morrises had this habit too. He had been a general in a war that took place in the South a good many years ago, and was often entertained at dinner at the Morrises". Though he was a well-informed, genial man, he was almost rude in making himself heard, so determined was he that people should listen to his jokes and stories, which were generally something about himself. At a large tableful of guests, General Peterson"s voice was always heard above that of every one else. He seemed to compel the rest of the company to listen. His big voice drowned the others out. Though Mr. and Mrs. Morris liked him very much, when they were alone they often ridiculed this disagreeable habit.
""Bessie and General Peterson are just alike," Mrs. Morris used to say jokingly, when the parrot pushed herself into notice by her loud jabbering. "Neither of them can endure to have any one else receive attention when they are present."
"Although Bessie had not a pony to ride on as Johnny had, she took a great many jaunts around the parlors on the cat"s back. This cat was a great pet in the house. A very striking-looking cat he was too. He was jet black with a flat face and long white whiskers. Johnny always said he resembled an old colored man who used to be their coachman, and he wondered if they were any relation to each other.
"When Bessie was out of her cage the cat did not often visit the parlor, because he was afraid of her. He always appeared to be much relieved when she did not notice him. If she had decided to take a ride, however, he never was quick enough to get away from her. With a shrill laugh of triumph she would fly upon his back, and holding on by digging her claws into his fur, around and around the room they would go, the poor cat feeling so completely disgraced that he dragged his body lower and lower at every step, until his legs could scarcely be seen at all.
"Bessie enjoyed it greatly. She seemed to take a wicked satisfaction in making poor Jett ridiculous, and laughed and chuckled and scolded till the cat looked as if he were ready to drop from very shame.
Urging him on with, "Get up, get up, you lazy thing," she refused to be shaken off till his body was actually dragging on the floor, a sign of his complete humiliation. As soon as he threw off his unwelcome burden, Jett always ran away to hide. With his tail slinking, his ears drooping, and crawling rather than walking, he was the most abject-looking, miserable cat in existence. Bessie meanwhile flirted herself saucily and chuckled with the conscious air of having done a very smart thing."
CHAPTER VI
THE PARROT AT A PARTY