“I am sure that is a Yellow-billed Cuckoo,” said the Lady, “and if it is, he has come for the Caterpillars that are spoiling our trees.”
“Why, Mother?” asked the Little Boy. “How do you know? You didn’t see him.”
“If you had your eyes shut, and I spoke to you,” she replied, “wouldn’t you known whose voice it was?”
The other birds also seemed to know whose voice it was, for they flew around in fright, and scolded and chattered until the visitor had left that row of maples and gone far away. Even then the more timid ones could not settle down to their regular duties. “It has given me such a start,” said one Robin, whose nerves were always easily upset, “that I don’t believe I can weave another grass-blade into my nest to-day.”
“Nonsense!” exclaimed a Blackbird. “Eat something and you will feel all right. There is nothing like eating to make one feel better.”
The Robin did as she was told and felt somewhat steadier, yet even then she talked of nothing else that morning. “To think of a Yellow-billed Cuckoo coming here!” she said. “It makes my quills tingle to think of it. My poor babies! My poor babies!”
“Couldn’t you stop worrying for a while?” her husband asked. “You know you have not even laid your eggs, so your children are not in danger yet.”
Mr. Robin was always gentle with his wife. The other birds didn’t see how he could stand it, for she was forever worrying about something.
“No,” she replied, “they are not laid yet, but they will be, and you know perfectly well, Mr. Robin, how glad that dreadful Cuckoo would be to suck every one of them. If he were only a Black-billed Cuckoo, it would not be so bad, but I saw his bill quite plainly, and it was yellow. Besides, he said, ‘Kuk-kuk-kuk!’ instead of ‘Kow-kow-kow-kuk-kuk!’”
“We will guard the nest carefully when the eggs are laid,” said Mr. Robin. “And now I think I will go across the street to hunt.” That also was a wise thing to do, for Mrs. Robin was always more sensible when she was alone.