Mr. Red-winged Blackbird edged away slightly. Skunks, he knew, would rather eat a bird than not. And he couldn't help[p. 58] wondering whether a Skunk Blackbird might be as dangerous.
"Then some people do call you that!" he faltered.
"Yes! But I don't care," Bobby Bobolink answered carelessly. "It's only because of these clothes I'm wearing at present—black, you know, with stripes of white down each side and meeting on my back."
Mr. Red-winged Blackbird stared at him.
"Then," he asked, "that's the only way you're like a Skunk?"
"Certainly!" said Bobby. And he laughed so merrily that Mr. Red-winged Blackbird had to believe him.
"I was scared, for a moment," he confessed. "I was afraid you might take it into your head to eat me."
Bobby Bobolink seemed to think that[p. 59] a huge joke. And he sang several humorous songs before he turned to Mr. Red-winged Blackbird and said:
"I can tell you one thing. I'd rather be called a Skunk Blackbird than a Skunk Crow, any day!"