WHY THE CUCKOO IS SO LAZY
The land was lean and hungry. The Old Man of the North Lodge had breathed upon the valley. His breath had frozen the corn, and there was no bread for the people.
The Indian hunters took to the chase. They followed every track of deer or rabbit. If their arrows brought them meat, they threw it over their shoulders and ran to the village, that the hungry women and children might eat.
But one Indian remained in his wigwam. He sat by the fire with his wife and child, and waited for the hunters to bring game.
This man refused to go on the hunt. He was lazy. All day he sat by the fire and smoked his pipe. Once in a while, he would stir the water in the kettle which he kept boiling for the meat that he hoped the hunters might bring. Whenever the child, his little son, begged him for food, he would say, "It isn't done yet."
At last the little Indian boy grew so sick and faint for want of food that he cried aloud.
The lazy Indian father was angry. He seized the pudding stick, and struck the child to the ground. Instantly a bird flew up and perched on the pole over the fire, from which the kettle hung.
"Now it's done!" said the bird solemnly, for it did not seem to have a light heart like other birds.