Read Ebook: The Jay Bird Who Went Tame by Breck John Andrews William T Illustrator

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Ebook has 251 lines and 18126 words, and 6 pages

- Louie Thomson and his tame Jay Bird - Tad catches the rat that was killing the chickens - Chaik begins to find out that living with house-folks is really great fun - Doctor Muskrat examines the White Cow's drinking pond - Doctor Muskrat makes friends with the ducks - Killer wasn't enjoying his visit to the Woods and Fields a bit - Killer climbs the big hickory tree after Chatter Squirrel - The Woodsfolk began bursting out of the straw pile, in and out and up and down

The Jay Bird Who Went Tame

Prob'ly you're all wondering what happened to Chaik Jay and Tad Coon when the big rain began to fall. Chaik had hurt his wing. He'd have had a bad time with it if he'd tried to stay in the pickery thorn bush, in the Quail's Thicket, down by Dr. Muskrat's Pond. Tad Coon knew a thing or two when he advised the bird to let Louie Thomson catch him. Well, when Louie burst into his mother's kitchen with Chaik holding on tight to his fat, warm finger he was 'most bursting with pride. You know just how you'd feel if you were Louie. Chaik felt just a little fluttery, but he knew he was safe so long as the little boy held him. He waved his well wing and put up his crest, but he never let go his hold on the funniest perch he'd ever sat on.

Of course, Louie's mother forgot all about the supper she was cooking. "Oh, wherever did you catch him?" she asked. "Isn't he a pretty thing? I never knew they had purple on their necks--just like grapes hanging in the sun. How do you s'pose he keeps all that white in his wings so clean?"

"He takes a bath every morning," said Louie. "I've seen him."

Tad was out in the woodshed, by the pussycat's dish, snubbing his shiny black nose against the screen. He was sniffing the hot Johnnycake he could smell baking in the oven. You know Louie promised him some--with syrup on it, too. Pretty soon Chaik had his beak pointed at the stove; he knew what Johnny cake was, because he'd had a taste of the piece Louie brought to the pond. He was 'most as interested as Tad Coon.

Then Louie's mother smelled it. "Heavens!" she exclaimed. "I clean forgot my oven!" She opened the door and took the Johnnycake out, hot and steaming. Louie took a nice crusty corner, right away quick. Of course Chaik thought that this was the signal for him, so he picked up a crumb--and his eyes fairly popped because he wasn't used to eating hot things. Then didn't she laugh! "The smart thing!" said she. "He's just like folks. But your pa'll be here in a minute and he won't think this kitchen's any place for birds--not if I know him. Quick, Louie! Put him down cellar in the cage so the cats can't get at him. Here's enough for him and the coon."

Down cellar they went, but Louie was careful to leave the door open so Tad could run down and see him. And Chaik didn't mind the cage so very much.

In fact, he was as comfortable as though he'd been at home. More comfortable, maybe, because it was pretty scary sleeping in the woods with Killer the Weasel sniffing about to find his hiding holes. Anyway, he was too full and too sleepy to think about it.

But Tad Coon wasn't sleepy a bit.

He licked the last crumb of Johnnycake, and the last drop of syrup Louie had put on it, out of his whiskers, and was just cleaning the stickiness off his little handy paws when he heard something that pricked his ears straight up. "Huh! That's a funny noise in the henhouse," he said to himself. "It isn't Louie, and it isn't his father--I believe I'll take a look." So off he marched, stepping most carefully in the hard middle of the path where the men walk so he wouldn't make his tracks plain for any one to follow.

"Hey! If this happened to our quail folk out by the pond there would be a fine goings on!" For it was the remains of a chicken. He craned his neck to see who had put it there, but he couldn't notice anything but the feather smell. "That bird wasn't killed to-night," thought he. "That was last night's work. It wasn't any owl. It wasn't a cat--they're horrid, spitty creatures, but they don't steal. Hist! I'll know who it was in about two whisks of a mouse's tail--he's doing it again!"

Pit, pit, pit, he tiptoed over to the henhouse. All the birds were shrieking and cackling. "Help! Murder-r! Thieves!" The ones on the far-up back perches were squawking. "Spur him! Peck him!" But the ones who were down in front were only fluttering hard to keep high off the floor on their clumsy wings.

Tad squinted through a crack. He could just make out a limp white heap of feathers being dragged. He couldn't see who was doing the dragging, but--sniff! He went galloping around and around the house whining: "Where did he get in; oh, wherever DID he get in?"

For that thief was the biggest, oldest, grayest rat he'd ever seen, and the wisest, too; he'd hunted right under the noses of Louie's cats for so long he had a whole lot more tricks than Tad had hairs in his whiskers. But Tad played a brand-new one on him. Suddenly he stopped right still. "What a cub I am!" he snickered to himself. "Old Sharptooth will take that bird right back to the woodpile where he ate the other one. That's the place for me to wait for him." In about three jumps he was on top of it with his ears cocked, listening for the rat to come.

He was listening so hard he didn't pay any attention when the kitchen door slammed. Louie's father was going to take a last look at his barns to make sure the big rain that was coming wouldn't do any harm to them, and Louie was with him to carry the lantern. He swung it as he walked and the light set all the shadows dancing. Tad Coon didn't pay any attention to that, either; he'd learned all about it down by Doctor Muskrat's Pond. But the rat did.

Pit-pat, pit-pat, swish. Tad could hear him coming, dragging his chicken. In one lantern swing his eyes lit up like the headlights of a little automobile, and he saw Tad's ears, pointed right toward him. He dropped his bird and jumped at the very same breath as Tad Coon. In the next swing Louie Thomson's father saw the white feathers lying on the ground--and he saw the fluffy tail and frilly fur pantaloons of Tad Coon diving down a big crown crock for a drain he was just going to dig.

"Well, I swan!" exclaimed Louie Thomson's father. He said some more things like that; the words didn't make much sense, because he didn't know exactly what he did mean. But you ought to have heard Louie Thomson! "Hooray!" he squealed. "Hooray for my coon! That's the rat we saw stealing an egg out from under the hen who set in the grain room last spring. It's the very same one. You said he was too smart for the cats and they'd never catch him. But my coon got him! He sure did!"

"That's some coon!" said his father at last. "Some coon! But how do you know he doesn't kill chickens, too?"

"Because he's friends with all the birds down by the pond," Louie insisted. "I've never seen him eat a single one. Not even my jay with the hurt wing--I'm pretty sure he could have caught him just as easy as I did."

"Your jay!" said his father. "Where do you keep him?" He thought he knew everything there was on the farm.

"Down cellar," said Louie. He was just a little scared that maybe his father would be angry if Chaik made a noise, because he had got so angry when Tad Coon did. "He'll be quiet--I know he will--but I couldn't bear to leave him out in the rain. The minute it stops I'll let him go again--truly I will."

But Louie was gone to fix a fine place for Tad to hide from the storm.

Bang! Smash! Crash! Splash! The thunder roared and the lightning went scuttling and dodging across the sky as though it wanted a place of its own to hide and couldn't find one. Chaik Jay woke up in the black dark and looked around. For a minute he couldn't think where he was. He could hear the wind howling, but the stick he perched on didn't move in it and his feathers didn't ruffle. He could hear the rain pounding and not a single drop fell on him. He was perfectly comfortable, only he felt just a little scared and lonely, though he was still too sleepy to think why.

Pretty soon he heard a whistle. Then he knew just where he was. That was Louie whistling to let Tad Coon know he had left some corn by the cellar door for him.

I tell you Chaik was glad to know Louie was right there, almost beside him. He began to call and flutter his wings. "There, there, jay bird," said the little boy in his very nicest voice, "I won't forget you. Are you ready to eat again?" He rattled some seeds on the floor of Chaik's cage. But Chaik went on fluttering. It wasn't food he wanted, it was company. If he couldn't have Tad Coon then Louie's nice warm finger was the next best thing. Louie didn't particularly like staying down there in the dark; it was nicer in the bright, warm kitchen. Besides, now he'd told his father about Chaik Jay he thought maybe he'd like to see the handsome bird. Maybe he'd make friends like he did with Tad Coon.

In about one minute Chaik was blinking in the light of the kitchen lamp. It was really very much like the lantern Louie had for his feast down by Doctor Muskrat's pond, only there weren't nearly so many beetles flying around it. That was because the screen kept them out, but Chaik didn't know about screens. He had to leave Louie's finger to catch that first beetle.

"I guess you couldn't see to eat down there in the dark," apologized the thoughtful boy, so he sprinkled some food on the table.

"Land o' love, what's that bird doing now?" Chaik looked up, but it was just Louie's mother talking, and he didn't mind her a bit. He went right on doing it. He wasn't swallowing his corn whole. He was neatly turning back its shiny jacket and picking the little sweet heart out of each kernel. I tell you he was making a fine mess of that table--but who cared? Not Louie or his mother; they thought he was too smart for anything.

Pick, peck, pick! Every once in a while he would give a shake of his head and scatter his little pile of grain so he could see the ones he hadn't picked over yet. Louie and his mother were just giggling over his antics; but he didn't care.

Puff! The kitchen door opened and let in a great gust of wind. It caught Chaik from behind; it spread out his tail like a turkey-feather fan and sent him skating and sliding because the table was covered with slippery oilcloth, and his claws wouldn't catch. But the door closed right away and the wind was shut out again. Louie's father had just come in.

Chaik wasn't scared--he was cross, he thought they'd played a joke on him. He balanced himself on his feet and then he gave a big shake to settle his feathers. He looked around very severely, as much as to say, "Don't you dare do that again. I won't stand it!" Then he marched into a little shady corner on the window sill, behind the curtain, and sulked.

He sulked! That's exactly what he was doing. But nobody paid any attention to him at all--which is the right way to treat any one who does such a foolish thing. Louie's father sat down and opened up the evening paper. It made a fine crackling. Louie's mother stirred up some yeast into the bread she was going to bake next morning. Then she began flouring the raisins she was going to put in it. Chaik began to get so interested in what was going on he forgot he was sulking.

First he peeked out from behind the curtain. Then he clawed his way sidewise across to the plate where the raisins were. Pretty soon he made a dive with his sharp beak; he did it so quickly she didn't see what he was up to. Fine! Chaik liked that raisin. But he didn't like it quite so dusty. He picked up another one, but he didn't gulp it in such a hurry. He bounced it on the table to shake the flour off it again.

Louie started to laugh. "Shh!" whispered his mother. "Let's see what he's going to do next." And what do you think that was? He began storing them away in his nice dark corner so he'd have some left for breakfast in the morning. He tucked a whole row of them into the crack of the window so neatly you could hardly see them. He began to find out that living with house-folks is really great fun.

All the time Chaik was hiding the raisins Louie and his mother were 'most bursting their buttons laughing at him. Louie's father had picked up the paper while Chaik was sulking. And he dozed off in his chair with the paper in front of him all the time Chaik was stealing.

When his wife thought Chaik had enough for two birds, she whisked the plate away. He couldn't think where it had gone to, because she did it when his tail feathers were turned. So he had to look for something else; he began trying experiments with the newspaper, pick, peck, picking, to see if he couldn't get a taste of those little black specks. He didn't know it was printing, of course; he thought those nice even lines were cracks and the little black specks were very neatly tucked in--so neatly it would be great fun to pick them out again. Pretty soon he got excited and used his claws. The paper began tearing; that woke up Mr. Thomson.

Slam went the paper on the table; that sent Chaik fluttering, but in a minute he was back at it again busier than ever. And when the big man saw him he burst out laughing--and he didn't laugh very often. He laughed so hard Chaik scuttled back into his corner with his crest tucked down.

But as soon as Mr. Thomson picked up his paper again Chaik began to cock his head. "Eh?" he thought. "He's hiding, too. He's hiding from me!" Wasn't he just conceited? Out he sneaked. Pick, peck, pick--he tore off the whole corner that time. Then he got his claws in it and danced around like a cat on a sheet of flypaper. That man reached out his finger, carefully as he could, and held it down so Chaik could untangle his feet.

Chaik misunderstood. "You needn't be afraid," said he in his politest bird talk. "I won't peck you."

Mr. Thomson misunderstood, too. He said: "The nerve of that bird! He isn't a bit afraid of me." So of course from that very minute they began to be friends--the first friend Louie's father ever had among the Woodsfolk.

I don't s'pose you could guess who had the most fun that evening. It wasn't Chaik--but he'd have insisted it was if any one had asked him. Didn't he just have a lovely time? He found all sorts of interesting things. He rather wanted to hide some of them away so he could play with them again, but there weren't so many good places to hide them. Take that little shiny cup for instance. It reminded him very much of an acorn with the top gone. You know what that was--it was a thimble. "Too bad it's empty," he sighed. "Now I wonder where house-folk keep their acorns--they must have a hole for them." No jay could go housekeeping without one. But of course he couldn't find it.

He thought of burying his treasure in the earth beneath one of the geraniums in a row of pots on the window sill. Just then he discovered the coffee pot; Louie's mother was measuring the coffee into it for the morning, so its lid was open. Chaik was so pleased. He dropped his shiny acorn right in. Snap! shut the top. It wouldn't come out again.

Didn't he just make an awful fuss? He hopped all around it. He sat on the handle and he tried to sit on the little round button on the lid, but his feet kept slipping off. He tried to peek down the spout or to reach his beak in. Finally he got so cross he gave the stubborn old thing a peck. It made such a tinny sound he jumped away and perked up his crest at it. He'd just about decided that was a lost acorn when somebody got it out for him.

Whoever do you think it was? It wasn't Louie, and it wasn't his mother --it was Mr. Thomson! And it wasn't just because he and Chaik had made friends; it was because everything that foolish bird tried to do set the big man laughing. And then Chaik would stop and look very hard at him as though he thought Louie's father were trying to talk to him, so of course he had to pay attention. That's manners in a boy or a bird.

He let Chaik peck a lead pencil into splinters to see what he could find, because that ignorant bird thought the lead was a worm-hole. He let him peck the button out of a chair cushion, just because it was fun to pull at. And when Chaik came tumbling off the table to pull at the shiny tag on the end of his shoe lace--you'd have thought he really believed he was being helped by that impudent bird. He grumbled a lot more than Louie when Louie's mother wound up the clock and made them all go to bed.

I just tell you Chaik and Tad didn't mind that rain. Tad Coon had a big, dry cellar to hunt in and a fine supply of mice who came to nibble his corn. Chaik Jay slept in his corner of the window sill in the kitchen behind the curtain. It wasn't quite so convenient as perching, for his long claws got in his way, but he found the varnished back of a chair too slippery; besides, he wanted to keep an eye on his raisins. Those thieving mice once tried to steal them. He gave one of them a good peck; it ran off squealing with one leg up, and after that they knew better than to bother him.

When Louie's father came padding in and began putting on his shoes that he had left under the stove to dry the night before he danced and flapped good morning. And wasn't the man just flattered to death to have a wild bird out of the woods as friendly as that?

When Chaik flapped he got more excited than ever. "My wing is well again!" he squawked. "Yah! My wing is well again!" Then didn't he have some fun? He could fly over the stove and perch on the handle of the teakettle while Mr. Thomson laid the fire for breakfast.

But all the man said was, "You think you own this house, don't you? Well, I dunno but you're about right, you sassy thing!"

Chaik just answered, "Hey?" That's all he said when Mr. Thomson opened the door to go out and Chaik's well wing brushed against his ear as he slipped out beside him. "Now look what I've done," said the man who didn't like Woodsfolk. "I s'pose that's the last we'll see of you." And he felt so lonesome as he watched Chaik go flitting off through the rain that he remembered about bringing back something from the barn for Tad Coon's breakfast. He wanted Tad to stay.

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