CHAPTER XXIV
BLACK THOMAS CATCHES A BURGLAR
THERE was a great commotion in this neighborhood on the first of April, for then the robins came back.
I never heard such a clatter of talk from any bird as came from Vox Clamanti, the head robin. Instead of contenting himself with saying, “Cheer up cheerily, cheer up cheerily,” as the other robins did, he just screamed a great amount of information about where he had spent the winter and what he had been doing, and how the colored people down South had tried to catch him, to make pie, but he was too smart for them.
Finally he got into a quarrel about the Great War. “Of course, you know, birds,” he said fussily, “that robins are the most important birds in the world, and the war was all about them. The bad robins in many nations persecuted
my brothers, the English robins, and would not let them into their countries. Then of course the Englishmen, who love their robins, took up arms and began to fight the bad nations who were persecuting us.”
Chummy laughed when he said this, but he was too sensible to argue with him. Black Gorget, Chummy’s next best friend after me, was not so wise, and he said, “I suppose you forget that English robins are not any relation to your family.”
Vox Clamanti looked thoughtful, then he said, “Well, if not brothers, then cousins. My cousins, the English robins—”
“They’re not even cousins,” said Bronze-Wing, the head grackle, “and the war is not about robins, but grackles.”
Vox Clamanti said very rudely, “You are lying,” and then the grackle gave a rough call in his squawky voice, and pulled out one of Vox Clamanti’s tail feathers.