Mother West Wind When Stories

by Thornton W. Burgess

  VII. WHEN MR. KINGFISHER TOOK TO THE GROUND

  |PETER RABBIT had taken it into his funny little head to wander downthe Laughing Brook below the Smiling Pool. It was open there, and in oneplace the bank was quite high and steep. Peter sat down on the edge ofit and looked down. Right under him the Laughing Brook was very quietand clear. Peter sat gazing down into it. He could see all the pebbleson the bottom and queer little plants growing among them. It seemed veryqueer, very queer indeed to Peter that plants, real plants, could begrowing down there under water. Somehow he couldn't make it seem rightthat anything but fish should be able to live down there.

  So Peter sat gazing down, lost in a sort of day-dream. The Jolly LittleSunbeams made beautiful lights and shadows in the water. Everything wasso peaceful and beautiful that Peter quite forgot he was sitting rightout in the open where Redtail the Hawk might spy him. He just gavehimself up to dreams, day-dreams, you know. Presently those day-dreamswere very, very near to being sleep-dreams. Yes, Sir, they were. Peteractually was nodding. His big eyes would close, open, close again,open and then close for a little longer. Suddenly a sharp and very loudnoise, which seemed to come from right under his very toes, put anend to all nodding and dreaming. It was a long, harsh rattle, and itstartled Peter so that he almost jumped out of his skin. Anyway, hejumped straight up in the air, and the wonder was that he didn't tumbleheadfirst down that steep bank right into the Laughing Brook. A queerprickly feeling ran all over him. He blinked his eyes rapidly. Then hesaw a handsome blue and white and gray bird, with a head that looked toobig for his body, flying up the Laughing Brook just above the water, andas he flew he made that sharp, harsh, rattling noise which had startledPeter so. Abruptly he paused in his flight, hovered over the water aninstant, shot down, and disappeared with a tinkling little splash. Asecond later he was in the air again, and in his stout, spear-like billwas a gleaming, silvery thing. It was a little fish, a minnow.

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  "Rattles the Kingfisher!" exclaimed Peter, as he watched him fly overto a tree, pound the fish on a branch, and then go through the funniestperformance as he tried to swallow the minnow whole. "Now where did hecome from?" continued Peter. "It certainly seemed to me that he camefrom right under my very feet, but there isn't so much as a twig downthere."

  Peter poked his head over the edge of the bank. No, there wasn't asingle thing down there on which Rattles could have been sitting. He wasstill wondering about it when his wobbly little nose caught a smell, avery unpleasant smell. It was the smell of fish, and it seemed to comefrom right under him. He leaned a little farther over the edge of thebank, and then he gave a funny little gasp. There was a _hole_ in thebank only a few inches below him, and the smell certainly came from thathole.

  Could it be, could it possibly be that Rattles had come out of thathole? It certainly seemed so, and yet Peter couldn't quite believe it.The very idea of a bird living in a hole in the ground!

  "I don't believe it! I don't, so there!" exclaimed Peter right out loud.

  "What is it you don't believe?" asked a voice. Peter looked down.There was Little Joe Otter looking up at him from the water, his eyestwinkling.

  "I don't believe that Rattles the Kingfisher came out of that hole, yetI don't see where else he could have come from," replied Peter.

  Little Joe chuckled. "That's where he came from, even if you don'tbelieve it," said he. "I don't suppose you will believe that he dug thathole himself, either."

  Peter's eyes opened very wide. "I--I'll believe it if you say on yourhonor that it realty is so," he replied slowly.

  "On my honor it really is so," said Little Joe Otter, his eyestwinkling more than ever. "Perhaps you would like to know how thegreat-great-grandfather of Rattles the Kingfisher happened to take theground for a home."

  Peter's eyes fairly danced. "Do tell me, Little Joe! Oh, please tellme!" he exclaimed.

  Little Joe climbed out of the water on a rock just below Peter andsettled himself comfortably.

  "Once upon a time," he began.

  "In the beginning of things," prompted Peter.

  "Yes, in the beginning of things," replied Little Joe, "way back whenthe world was young, lived the very first of the Kingfisher family.From the very beginning Mr. Kingfisher was a very independent fellow.He cared nothing about his neighbors. That is, he was not social. He waspolite enough, but he preferred his own company and was never happierthan when he was by himself. Of course, his neighbors soon found thisout. They called him odd and queer, and soon refused to even speak tohim. This just suited Mr. Kingfisher, and he went about his businessvery well content to be let alone. He spent his days fishing, and,because there were few other fishermen, he always had plenty to eat. Atnight he found a comfortable roost in a tree, and so for a time he wasperfectly contented.

  "By and by he discovered that most of his neighbors were building homes.At first he gave little attention to this, but after a while, seeing howhappy they were, he began to think about a home for himself. The more hethought about it, the more he wanted one. But underneath Mr.Kingfisher's pointed cap were very clever wits. He would do nothinghastily. So he flew up and down the brook, appearing to do nothing butfish, but all the time he was keeping his eyes open, and there were nosharper eyes than those of Mr. Kingfisher.

  "He was watching his neighbors work to see where and how they madetheir homes. He saw some of the birds building nests in the trees, somebuilding them in the bushes, and a few building right on the ground.

  "Of all he saw he liked best the home of Drummer the Woodpecker. 'Thatfellow has the right idea,' thought he. 'He cuts a hole in a tree; he isdry; he is warm; and no one can get at him there. If I build a home,that is the kind of place I want. He has got what I call plain sense,plain common sense!'

  "After this Mr. Kingfisher watched until he was quite sure that no onewas around to see him, and then he tried to make a hole in a tree as hehad seen Drummer the Woodpecker do. But right away he discovered thattwo things were wrong; his bill was not made for cutting wood, and hisfeet were not big enough or the right shape for clinging to the side ofa tree. Mr. Kingfisher was disappointed, very much disappointed. A holeseemed to him the only kind of a place for a home. He was thinking itover when he happened to discover Mr. Muskrat digging a hole in thebank. At first he didn't pay much attention. Then all in a flash anidea, a wonderful idea, came to him. Why shouldn't he have a home in theground? No one in the wide world would ever think of looking for thehome of a bird in the ground. With a rattle of joy, Mr. Kingfisher flewoff up the brook to a steep, sandy bank of which he knew.

  "'Just the place! Just the very place!' he cried. 'I'll make a hole justa little way from the top. No one will see it except from below, and itwill be hard work for any one to climb up that sandy bank.'

  "He flew straight at the spot he had selected and drove his bigspear-like bill into it. Then he did it again and again. That billwouldn't cut wood like the bill of Drummer the Woodpecker, but itcertainly would cut into a sandy bank. In a little while he had room tocling with his feet. Then he could work faster and more easily. Prettysoon he had a hole deep enough to get into. He would loosen the earthwith his hill and scrape it out with his feet. He was so pleased withhis discovery that he kept right on working. He almost forgot to eat.All the time he could spare from fishing, he spent digging. Day afterday he worked. When he had a hole three or four feet straight into thebank, he made a turn in it and then kept on digging. When he had gonefar enough in, he made a little bedroom.

  "At last the house was done. Mr. Kingfisher chuckled happily. No onecould get at him there. He had the best and safest home he knew of. Itwas better than the home of Drummer the Woodpecker. If Mr. Mink happenedto find it, and Mr. Kingfisher could think of no one else who would belikely to, there would be nothing to fear, for Mr. Mink would never dareface that sharp hill in such a narrow place.

  "It all worked out just as Mr. Kingfisher thought it would. No onedreamed of looking in the ground for his home, and for a long, long timehe
kept his secret so well that his neighbors thought he had no home,and called him 'Rattles the Homeless.' From that day to this theKingfishers have made their homes in the ground," concluded Little JoeOtter.

  "Isn't it wonderful?" exclaimed Peter, as he watched Rattles diveinto the water and catch a silvery minnow. "I didn't know that any onewearing feathers had so much sense."

  "There's a great deal you don't know, Peter," replied Little Joe Otter,sliding into the water.