What the Blackbird said / A story in four chirps

by Hannah Jane Locker-Lampson

Standing there was quite the dearest little couple he had ever seen, a little girl and boy.

The boy was a brave little man of about four years of age, with two dark eyes, and thick curly brown hair. His face was positively brimming over with fun and mischief. Standing by his side, and clasping his hand with plump little fingers, was a little girl of some two and a half years. She had a round baby face, gray eyes, and the sweet bloom 17 of babyhood was on her cheek. Her eyes had that wondering, far-away look, which is so very bewitching in quite little children, and her small rosy mouth showed some very white teeth, especially when she laughed, which was not by any means seldom.

It was evident that these little ones were waiting for something of interest, for they stood very patiently, and their eyes were fixed on the grass beneath the fir-trees. At the moment we are describing the redbreast flew from one laurel-bush to another, and then with a shout of delight, the little children suddenly disappeared from the window. In a minute however they were back again with faces full of expectation and importance, bearing between them a plate of bread which had been carefully broken into small pieces.

One of the large windows, which opened to the ground, was then flung back, and the little boy, advancing carefully, scattered the crumbs on the gravel path just beyond the window. The window was then softly closed, and hand-in-hand the little children stood still to watch. The opening and shutting of the window had frightened the Blackbird; 18 he had flown to a more distant bush; but as the more courageous Robin only fluttered about for a moment, the Blackbird soon came back, and in less than a minute the Robin was upon the gravel path hard at work picking up the dainty white crumbs. The Blackbird still hesitated on the laurel branch, loth to remain, yet fearful to advance, but at last, impelled by a sudden pang of hunger, he ventured to join his red-breasted friend.

It was a most luxurious repast; never before had the Blackbird tasted food half so delicious. It is true that he got one or two frights, for once the little girl was so delighted at the sight of both birds devouring the crumbs, that she banged her little fat hands against the window-pane, dancing at the same time with delight. This gambol fairly startled their feathered guests, and frightened them away for a minute or two, but they were soon back again, and then the Blackbird saw that the boy was carefully holding his sister’s hands to keep her quiet.

Each morning found the little eager faces waiting at the window, and each morning also found the two expectant birds perched on the laurel-bushes. The 19 feathered company was soon swelled by the arrival of some impudent and very quarrelsome sparrows, a pair of chaffinches, and a darling little blue titmouse, who, with his cousin a cole-titmouse, soon became quite at their ease. By common consent all the other birds avoided the sparrows. “They are common, idle creatures, you know,” said the Robin, “and none of us care to associate with such low, vulgar birds.”

The Blackbird, through the kindness of his little friend the Robin, soon got acquainted with many other birds, and indeed he grew quite intimate with a gaily apparelled Goldfinch. However, notwithstanding all this, the Blackbird found it difficult to make friends, and could never be quite so much at his ease as his more sociable red-breasted companion.

One day the Robin confided to the Blackbird a great discovery that he and the Goldfinch had made. They had come upon a large barn, and there, close to the roof, they had found a small hole. It was very small indeed, but, after some hesitation, they had squeezed through it, and had found themselves in a large room filled with huge sacks of corn, oats and barley. Their delight at this discovery was 20 not to be described, any more than the feast they subsequently made. Mice, and even rats, were scampering about in every direction, gnawing holes in the sacks, and getting into all manner of mischief.

“We were afraid of the rats at first,” said the Robin, “but we soon found that they were much too busy to trouble their heads about us. The Goldfinch is very anxious that the sparrows should not find out this barn. They are greedy and quarrelsome, and would keep it all to themselves, and try to turn us out.”

The Blackbird soon found his way to the corn sacks, but he and his friends were uncommonly circumspect whenever they met any sparrows. They would even pretend that they were going in quite another direction; they would fly straight by the barn, and then wait patiently in a neighbouring tree or hedgerow, and not return till they were certain of not being noticed.