"Chickadee-dee-dee-dee! Chickadee-dee-dee-dee!
Chicka--" "Cheerup, cheerup, chee-chee! Cheerup,
cheerup, chee-chee!" "Ter-ra-lee, ter-ra-lee,
ter-ra-lee!"
"Rap-atap-atap-atap!" went the woodpecker; "Mrs.
Chickadee may speak first."
"Friends," began Mrs. Chickadee, "why do you suppose
I called you together?"
"Because it's the day before Christmas," twittered
Snow Bunting. "And you're going to give a Christmas
party," chirped the Robin. "And you want us all to
come!" said Downy Woodpecker. "Hurrah! Three cheers
for Mrs. Chickadee!"
"Hush!" said Mrs. Chickadee, "and I'll tell you all
about it. To-morrow IS Christmas Day, but I don't
want to give a party."
"Chee, chee, chee!" cried Robin Rusty-breast; "chee,
chee, chee"
"Just listen to my little plan," said Mrs.
Chickadee, "for, indeed, I
want you all to help. How many remember Thistle
Goldfinch--the happy little fellow who floated over
the meadows through the summer and fall?"
"Cheerup, chee-chee, cheerup, chee-chee, I do," sang
the Robin; "how he loved to sway on thistletops!"
"Yes," said Downy Woodpecker, "and didn't he sing?
All about blue skies, and sunshine and happy days,
with his
'Swee-e-et-sweet-sweet-sweet-a-twitter-witter-witter-witter-wee-twea!'"
"Ter-ra-lee, ter-ra-lee," said Snow Bunting. "We've
all heard of
Thistle Goldfinch, but what can he have to do with
your Christmas
party? He's away down South now, and wouldn't care
if you gave a dozen parties."
"Oh, but he isn't; he's right in these very woods!"
"Why, you don't mean--"
"Indeed I do mean it, every single word. Yesterday I
was flitting about among the trees, peeking at a
dead branch here, and a bit of moss there, and
before I knew it I found myself away over at the
other side of the woods! 'Chickadee-dee-dee,
chickadee-dee-dee!' I sang, as I turned my bill
toward home. Just then I heard the saddest little
voice pipe out: 'Dear-ie me! Dear-ie me!' and there
on the sunny side of a branch perched a lonesome bit
of yellowish down. I went up to see what it was, and
found dear little Thistle Goldfinch! He was very
glad to see me, and soon told his short story.
Through the summer Papa and Mamma Goldfinch and all
the brothers and sisters had a fine time, singing
together, fluttering over thistle tops, or floating
through the balmy air. But when 'little Jack Frost
walked through the trees,' Papa Goldfinch said: 'It
is high time we went South!' All were ready but
Thistle; he wanted to stay through the winter, and
begged so hard that Papa Goldfinch soberly said:
'Try it, my son, but do find a warm place to stay in
at night.' Then off they flew, and Thistle was
alone. For a while he was happy. The sun shone warm
through the middle of the day,
and there were fields and meadows full of seeds. You
all remember how sweetly he sang for us then. But by
and by the cold North Wind came whistling through
the trees, and chilly Thistle woke up one gray
morning to find the air full of whirling snowflakes
He didn't mind the light snows, golden-rod and some
high grasses were too tall to be easily covered, and
he got seeds from them. But now that the heavy snows
have come, the poor little fellow is almost starved,
and if he doesn't have a warm place to sleep in
these cold nights, he'll surely die!"
Mrs. Chickadee paused a minute. The birds were so
still one could hear the pine trees whisper. Then
she went on: "I comforted the poor little fellow as
best I could, and showed him where to find a few
seeds; then I flew home, for it was bedtime. I
tucked my head under my wing to keep it warm, and
thought, and thought, and thought; and here's my
plan:
"We Chickadees have a nice warm home here in the
spruce trees, with their thick, heavy boughs to shut
out the snow and cold. There is plenty of room, so
Thistle could sleep here all winter. We would let
him perch on a branch, when we Chickadees would
nestle around him until he was as warm as in the
lovely summer tine. These cones are so full of seeds
that we could spare him a good many; and I think
that you Robins might let him come over to your
pines some day and share your seeds. Downy
Woodpecker must keep his eyes open as he hammers the
trees, and if he spies a supply of seeds he will let
us know at once. Snow Bunting is only a visitor, so
I don't expect him to help, but I wanted him to hear
my plan with the rest of you. Now you WILL try,
won't you, EVERY
ONE?"
"Cheerup, cheerup, ter-ra-lee! Indeed we'll try;
let's begin right
away! Don't wait until to-morrow; who'll go and find
Thistle?"
"I will," chirped Robin Rusty-breast, and off he
flew to the place
which Mrs. Chickadee had told of, at the other side
of the wood. There, sure enough, he found Thistle
Goldfinch sighing: "Dear-ie me! dear-ie me! The
winter is so cold and I'm here all alone!" "Cheerup,
chee-chee!" piped the Robin:
"Cheerup, cheerup, I'm here!
I'm here and I mean to stay.
What if the winter is drear--
Cheerup, cheerup, anyway!"
"But the snow is so deep," said Thistle, and the
Robin replied:
"Soon the snows'll be over and gone,
Run and rippled away;
What's the use of looking forlorn?
Cheerup, cheerup, I say!"
Then he told Thistle all their plans, and wasn't
Thistle surprised?
Why, he just couldn't believe a word of it till they
reached Mrs.
Chickadee's and she said it was all true. They fed
him and warmed him, then settled themselves for a
good night's rest.
Christmas morning they were chirping gaily, and
Thistle was trying to remember the happy song he
sang in the summer time, when there came a whirr of
wings as Snow Bunting flew down.
"Ter-ra-lee, ter-ra-lee, ter-ra-lee," said he, "can
you fly a little
way?"
"Oh, yes," replied Thistle. "I THINK I could fly a
LONG way."
"Come on, then," said Snow Bunting. "Every one who
wants a Christmas dinner, follow me!" That was every
word he would say, so what could they do but follow?
Soon they came to the edge of the wood, and then to
a farmhouse. Snow Bunting flew straight up to the
piazza, and there stood a dear little girl in a warm
hood and cloak, with a pail of bird-seed on her arm,
and a dish of bread crumbs in her hand. As they flew
down, she said:
"And here are some more birdies who have come for a
Christmas dinner. Of course you shall have some, you
dear little things!" and she laughed merrily to see
them dive for the crumbs.
After they had finished eating, Elsie (that was the
little girl's name)
said: "Now, little birds, it is going to be a cold
winter, you would
better come here every day to get your dinner. I'll
always be glad to see you."
"Cheerup chee-chee, cheerup chee-chee! thank you,
thank you," cried the Robins.
"Ter-ra-lee, ter-ra-lee, ter-ra-lee! thank you,
thank you!" twittered
Snow Bunting.
"Chick-a-dee-dee-dee-dee, chick-a-dee-dee-dee-dee,
chick-a-dee-dee-dee-dee-dee! how kind you are!" sang
the Chickadees.
And Thistle Goldfinch? Yes, he remembered his summer
song, for he sang as they flew away:
"Swee-e-et-sweet-sweet-sweet-a-twitter-witter-witter-witter--wee-twea!"
(note)
l. The Robin's song is from "Bird Talks," by Mrs.
A.D.T. Whitney.
2. The fact upon which this story is based--that is
of the other birds
adopting and warming the solitary Thistle
Goldfinch--was observed near
Northampton, Mass., where robins and other migratory
birds sometimes
spend the winter in the thick pine woods.
