Peter shook his head. “No,” said he, “I haven't. What is it like?”
Kitty the Catbird laughed. “It's about the poorest apology for a nest I know of,” said he. “It is made of little sticks and mighty few of them. How they hold together is more than I can understand. I guess it is a good thing that Mrs. Dove doesn't lay more than two eggs, and it's a wonder to me that those two stay in the nest. Listen! There's Mourner's voice now. For one who is so happy he certainly does have the mournfullest sounding voice. To hear him you'd think he was sorrowful instead of happy. It always makes me feel sad to hear him.”
“That's true,” replied Peter, “but I like to hear him just the same. Hello! Who's that?”
From one of the trees in the Old Orchard sounded a long, clear, “Kow-kow-kow-kow-kow-kow!” It was quite unlike any voice Peter had heard that spring.
“That's Cuckoo,” said Kitty. “Do you mean to say you don't know Cuckoo?”
“Of course I know him,” retorted Peter. “I had forgotten the sound of his voice, that's all. Tell me, Kitty, is it true that Mrs. Cuckoo is no better than Sally Sly the Cowbird and goes about laying her eggs in the nests of other birds? I've heard that said of her.”
“There isn't a word of truth in it,” declared Kitty emphatically. “She builds a nest, such as it is, which isn't much, and she looks after her own children. The Cuckoos have been given a bad name because of some good-for-nothing cousins of theirs who live across the ocean where Bully the English Sparrow belongs, and who, if all reports are true, really are no better than Sally Sly the Cowbird. It's funny how a bad name sticks. The Cuckoos have been accused of stealing the eggs of us other birds, but I've never known them to do it and I've lived neighbor to them for a long time, I guess they get their bad name because of their habit of slipping about silently and keeping out of sight as much as possible, as if they were guilty of doing something wrong and trying to keep from being seen. As a matter of fact, they are mighty useful birds. Farmer Brown ought to be tickled to death that Mr. and Mrs. Cuckoo have come back to the Old Orchard this year.”
“Why?” demanded Peter.
“Do you see that cobwebby nest with all those hairy caterpillars on it and around it up in that tree?” asked Kitty.
Peter replied that he did and that he had seen a great many nests just like it, and had noticed how the caterpillars ate all the leaves near them.