“I’ve got better business than spreading such news,” she replied. “You’ll have to find another messenger.”
In turn Spotted Tail approached Piney the Purple Finch, Mrs. Phœbe Bird and Mr. Crested Flycatcher, and received from each one the same reply. None of them would undertake the work of stirring up a revolt against Bumper.
It was Shrike, the Butcher Bird, whose very name made him dreaded and hated
He was in despair, and was bemoaning his luck when suddenly a voice startled him. “What’s the matter, Spotted Tail? You look black enough to obscure the sun.”
It was Shrike the Butcher Bird, whose very name made him dreaded and hated. Shrike had the unpleasant habit of catching insects, lizards, frogs, and sometimes small birds, and sticking them on thorns until he or his mate was ready to eat them. This disgusting and cruel habit made him an outcast among the birds, and very few would have anything to do with him. Naturally, it soured his disposition, and made him irritable and unfriendly.
Spotted Tail looked up and a gleam of hope entered his eyes. Why not ask the Shrike to spread the message that would stir up trouble? By so doing he would accomplish two things. He would get even with the birds who had refused to listen to his plea, and accomplish the downfall of Bumper.
“I have enough trouble to make me look blue,” Spotted Tail replied. “Even the brightness of the sun doesn’t make me feel happy.”
“It must be trouble indeed, then,” laughed the Shrike, “for it’s a beautiful day, and everybody else feels happy. What is it?”
“Alack! And alas!” sighed the rabbit. “I’m afraid you won’t sympathize with me any more than Mr. Woodpecker or Rusty the Blackbird or any of the others. I have told my tale to them, and they only laught at me.”