BUTCHER THE SHRIKE was not the only newcomer in the Old Orchard. There was another stranger who, Peter Rabbit soon discovered, was looked on with some suspicion by all the other birds of the Old Orchard. The first time Peter saw him, he was walking about on the ground some distance off. He didn't hop but walked, and at that distance he looked all black. The way he carried himself and his movements as he walked made Peter think of Creaker the Grackle. In fact, Peter mistook him for Creaker. That was because he didn't really look at him. If he had he would have seen at once that the stranger was smaller than Creaker.
Presently the stranger flew up in a tree and Peter saw that his tail was little more than half as long as that of Creaker. At once it came over Peter that this was a stranger to him, and of course his curiosity was aroused. He didn't have any doubt whatever that this was a member of the Blackbird family, but which one it could be he hadn't the least idea. "Jenny Wren will know," thought Peter and scampered off to hunt her up.
[270] "Who is that new member of the Blackbird family who has come to live in the Old Orchard?" Peter asked as soon as he found Jenny Wren.
"There isn't any new member of the Blackbird family living in the Old Orchard," retorted Jenny Wren tartly.
"There is too," contradicted Peter. "I saw him with my own eyes. I can see him now. He's sitting in that tree over yonder this very minute. He's all black, so of course he must be a member of the Blackbird family."
"Tut, tut, tut, tut, tut!" scolded Jenny Wren. "Tut, tut, tut, tut, tut! That fellow isn't a member of the Blackbird family at all, and what's more, he isn't black. Go over there and take a good look at him; then come back and tell me if you still think he is black."
Jenny turned her back on Peter and went to hunting worms. There being nothing else to do, Peter hopped over where he could get a good look at the stranger. The sun was shining full on him, and he wasn't black at all. Jenny Wren was right. For the most part he was very dark green. At least, that is what Peter thought at first glance. Then, as the stranger moved, he seemed to be a rich purple in places. In short he changed color as he turned. His feathers were like those of Creaker the Grackle—iridescent. All over he [271] was speckled with tiny light spots. Underneath he was dark brownish-gray. His wings and tail were of the same color, with little touches of buff. His rather large bill was yellow.
Peter hurried back to Jenny Wren and it must be confessed he looked sheepish. "You were right, Jenny Wren; he isn't black at all," confessed Peter. "Of course I was right. I usually am," retorted Jenny. "He isn't black, he isn't even related to the Blackbird family, and he hasn't any business in the Old Orchard. In fact, if you ask me, he hasn't any business in this country anyway. He's a foreigner. That's what he is—a foreigner."
"But you haven't told me who he is," protested Peter.
"He is Speckles the Starling, and he isn't really an American at all," replied Jenny. "He comes from across the ocean the same as Bully the English Sparrow. Thank goodness he hasn't such a quarrelsome disposition as Bully. Just the same, the rest of us would be better satisfied if he were not here. He has taken possession of one of the old homes of Yellow Wing the Flicker, and that means one less house for birds who really belong here. If his family increases at the rate Bully's family does, I'm afraid some of us will soon be crowded out of the Old Orchard. Did you notice that yellow bill of his?"
[272] Peter nodded. "I certainly did," said he. "I couldn't very well help noticing it."
"Well, there's a funny thing about that bill," replied Jenny. "In winter it turns almost black. Most of us wear a different colored suit in winter, but our bills remain the same."
"Well, he seems to be pretty well fixed here, and I don't see but what the thing for the rest of you birds to do is to make the best of the matter," said Peter. "What I want to know is whether or not he is of any use."
"I guess he must do some good," admitted Jenny Wren rather grudgingly. "I've seen him picking up worms and grubs, but he likes grain, and I have a suspicion that if his family becomes very numerous, and I suspect it will, they will eat more of Farmer Brown's grain than they will pay for by the worms and bugs they destroy. Hello! There's Dandy the Waxwing and his friends."