"Why, they're outcasts!" the song sparrow cried. "No decent bird will have anything to do with them. They lay their eggs in our nests and we have to bring up their lubberly children for them. If I were you I'd drive them away next time and let the flies bite. What's your tail for, anyhow, except to switch the flies off?"
"Really, I don't know," said the Muley Cow.
She felt somewhat foolish.
And soon afterward the song sparrow told his wife that there was always something to learn, no matter if one were as old as the Muley Cow.
The Muley Cow couldn't quite believe what Mr. Song Sparrow had told her about the cowbirds. But if it was true, she didn't want anything more to do with them. And if it wasn't true, she intended to be specially agreeable to them.
In order to find out what was what, the Muley Cow made up her mind to ask the cowbirds a question the very next time she met them.
It wasn't long before they gathered around her again.
"We've come to rid you of flies once more," they announced as they began to jostle one another while they snapped at the insects hovering about the Muley Cow. And one fat cowbird remarked with a smirk that it was too bad they hadn't brought the children along to help.
The others grinned; for the cowbird youngsters were all being cared for by other birds who had big enough families of their own without looking after outsiders. But they didn't know that the Muley Cow had heard any stories about that.