Mother West Wind Where Stories

WHERE YELLOW-WING GOT HIS LIKING FOR THE GROUND

Peter Rabbit was hopping along on the edge of the Green Meadows, looking for a new patch of sweet clover.  It was very beautiful that morning, and Peter was in the best of spirits.  It was good just to be alive.  Every once in a while Peter would jump up and kick his long heels together just from pure happiness.  He was so happy that he didn’t pay particular attention to where he was going or what was about him.  The result was that Peter got a fright.  Right from under his very nose something sprang out of the grass so suddenly and so wholly unexpectedly that Peter very nearly tumbled over backward.  He made two long jumps off to one side and then turned to see what had startled him so.  But all he saw was an old feathered acquaintance headed towards the Old Orchard.  He seemed to bound along through the air much as Peter bounds along over the ground when he is in a hurry.  It was Yellow-Wing the Flicker.

Peter grinned and looked a little foolish.  He felt a little foolish.  You know it always makes you feel foolish to be frightened when there is nothing to be afraid of.  Peter watched Yellow-Wing until he disappeared among the trees of the Old Orchard, from which presently his voice sounded clear and loud, and in it there was a mocking note as if Yellow-Wing were laughing at him.  Peter suspected that he was.  But Peter was feeling too happy to mind being laughed at.  In fact, he chuckled himself.  It was something of a joke to be frightened by one who was so wholly harmless.  Peter recalled how many times he had frightened other people and thought it the best of jokes.

Peter went on until he found a new patch of sweet clover.  Then he forgot all about Yellow-Wing.  He was too busy filling that big stomach of his to think of anything else.  When he couldn’t find room for another leaf of clover he went home to the dear Old Briar-patch, and there in his favorite spot he settled himself to rest and think or dream as the case might be.  Presently his thoughts returned to Yellow-Wing, and he chuckled again at the memory of his fright that morning.  And then for the first time it struck Peter as queer that Yellow-Wing should have been out there on the Green Meadows on the ground.  He often had seen Yellow-Wing on the ground, but until that moment there never had seemed anything queer about that.  Now, however, it suddenly came to Peter that Yellow-Wing belonged in trees, not on the ground.

Peter scratched his long left ear with his long left hind foot, which was a sign that he was thinking of something that puzzled him.  “He belongs to the Woodpecker family,” thought Peter, “and never have I seen any of his relatives on the ground.  They get all their food in the trees.  Now why is Yellow-Wing so different from his relatives?”

The more Peter thought about it, the queerer it seemed that a Woodpecker should spend so much time on the ground, or visit the ground at all, for that matter.  But just wondering about it didn’t get him anywhere, and at last Peter decided that the only way to find out would be to ask questions.  So Peter made up his mind to watch for Yellow-Wing and ask him all about it the first chance he got.

The chance came the very next day in the very same place where Peter had been so startled.  This time he was on the watch and saw Yellow-Wing very busy about something.  Peter stole up within speaking distance.

“Good morning, Yellow-Wing,” said he.  “I wonder if you will tell me something.”

It was Yellow-Wing’s turn to be startled, for he had not seen Peter approaching.  He half lifted his wings to fly, but when he saw who it was, he changed his mind.

“It all depends on what it is you want me to tell you,” he replied rather shortly.

“It is just this,” replied Peter.  “Why do you spend so much time on the ground?”

“That’s easily answered,” laughed Fellow-Wing.  “I do it because it is the easiest way to get enough to eat.”

Peter looked as surprised as he felt.  “I thought that all your family got their living in the trees!” he exclaimed.

“All do but me,” replied Yellow-Wing a wee bit testily.  “But I don’t have to do what they do just because they do it.  No, Siree, I’m independent!  Do you like ants, Peter?”

“What?” exclaimed Peter.

“I asked if you like ants,” repeated Yellow-Wing.

“I’ve never tried them,” Peter replied, “but I’ve heard Old Mr. Toad say they are very nice.”

“They are,” said Yellow-Wing.  “They are more than nice—­they are de-li-cious.  It is because of them that I spend so much time on the ground.  Ants changed the habits of the Flicker branch of the Woodpecker family.  I wouldn’t be surprised if we became regular ground birds one of these days.”

Peter looked puzzled.  He kept turning it over in his mind as he watched Yellow-Wing plunge his long stout bill into an ant hill and then gobble up the ants as they came rushing out to see what the trouble was.

“I don’t see how ants could change the habits of anybody,” he ventured after a while.

Yellow-Wing’s eyes twinkled.  “Why don’t you learn to eat them?” he demanded.  “If you would, they might change your habits.  The beginning of the change in the habits of my folks began a long time ago.”

“Way back in the beginning of things, when the world was young?” asked Peter.

“No, not quite so far back as that,” replied Yellow-Wing.  “Great-great-ever-so-great-grandfather, who was the first Flicker, was, of course, a member of the Woodpecker family, and he got his living in regular Woodpecker fashion.  It never entered his head to look for food anywhere but in the trees, and I don’t suppose that it ever entered his head to set foot on the ground.  It was the same with his children and his children’s children for a long time.

“But though they lived as true Woodpeckers should, the Flickers always were a bit sharper-witted and more independent than most of their relatives.  For one thing they had discovered that ants were fine eating and that great numbers of them were to be found running up and down the trunks of certain trees.  So the Flickers used to look for these trees and feast on the ants.  It saved a lot of labor.  A stomachful of ants could be picked from the trunk of a tree in the time it would take to dig out one worm in the wood, to say nothing of the saving of hard work.

“One day a few years ago my great-great-great-grandfather, so the story goes, had stuffed himself with ants from the trunk of a tree and had settled himself for a rest.  From where he sat he could see a procession of ants going up and down the tree, and he got to wondering where they all came from and where they all went to.  So he watched and presently discovered that that double line of ants led out along the ground from the foot of the tree.  This made him still more curious and he followed it, flying along just over it.  He had gone but a short distance when he came to a little mound of sand, and there the line of ants ended.  Grandfather Flicker flew up in a tree from which he could look right down on that mound, and it didn’t take him long to discover that those ants were going in and out of little holes in that mound.

“‘As I live, that must be their home!’ exclaimed he.  ’That place is alive with them.  What a place to fill one’s stomach!  I never was on the ground in my life, but the next time I’m hungry, I’m going to see what the ground is like.  I won’t have to stay on it long to get my dinner here.’

“Grandfather Flicker was as good as his word.  When he was ready for another meal, he flew down to that ant hill.  He found that when he plunged his bill into it, the ants fairly poured out to see what was happening, and all he had to do was to thrust out his long sticky tongue and lick them up.  Never in all his life before had he filled his stomach so easily.  After that, instead of wasting time hunting for worms and insects in the trees where he could find only one at a time, Grandfather Flicker kept his eyes open for ant hills on the ground.  He taught his children to do the same thing.  That was the beginning of the change of habits with the Flickers.  Ever since we have spent more and more time on the ground, so that now we feel quite at home there.  We still get some of our food in the trees by way of variety, and we make our homes there, but a good big part of our food we get just as I am doing now.”

With this Yellow-Wing once more plunged his bill into the ant hill and licked up a dozen ants who had come rushing out to see what was going on.  And so once more the curiosity of Peter Rabbit was satisfied, and he had learned something.