Old Ka-ka-go the Crow, sitting on the top of the tall maple, felt that on such a morning as this he, too, must sing.  So he opened his beak and croaked, “Caw, caw, caw, caw.”  What he meant to say was, “Corn, corn, corn, corn.”  Sam, the hired man, heard him and came out of the barn door with his gun.  Old Ka-ka-go spread his black wings and flapped off to the woods on the side of the mountain.

Far up in the blue sky Kee-you the Red-shouldered Hawk wheeled slowly about in great circles.  When he saw Sam with his gun, he screamed, “Kee-you, kee-you, kee-you,” over and over.

That was a poor song, but a good war cry; It sent every singer plunging to cover.  O-pee-chee the Robin hid himself among the thick branches of the apple tree.  Kil-loo the Song Sparrow hopped into the thickest part of the lilac bush.  Zeet the Lark and Bob Lincoln squatted in the thick grass.  Not a bird note was to be heard.

But Ka-be-yun the West Wind was not afraid of the warrior hawk.  He breathed softly among the branches of the trees and set every little leaf quivering and whispering.  Then he ran across the meadows and the wheat fields.  As he sped along, great waves like those of the sea rolled in wide sweeps across the meadow and through the tall wheat.

To little Luke it seemed as if the leaves and grass and wheat all whispered, “Come away.  Come and play.”  Just then a great bumblebee flew by and now the call was clear.  “Come away, come away!  Follow, follow, follow me!”

The boy jumped up and ran down the path into the garden.  There he met Old Klaws the House Cat, with a little brown baby rabbit in his mouth.  “You wicked old cat,” said little Luke, “drop it, drop it, I say.”  But Old Klaws only growled and gripped the little rabbit tighter.  Little Luke seized the old cat by the back of the neck and choked him till he let go.  The little brown rabbit looked up at him with his big round eyes, as much as to say, “Thank you, little boy, thank you.”  Then he hopped off into the thicket of berry bushes, where Old Klaws could not catch him again.

Little Luke went on down the path, through the garden gate, and into the meadow beyond.  All at once Bob Lincoln sprang up out of the grass right before his feet.

Little Luke thought he would find Bob Lincoln’s nest.  So he got down upon his knees and began to look about in the grass very carefully.  He did not find the nest, but he did find a fine cluster of ripe, wild strawberries.  He forgot all about the nest and began to pick and eat the sweet berries.  So he ate and ate till his lips and fingers were red as red wine and smelled strongly of ripe strawberries.

Suddenly, as he put out his hand for another cluster, up sprang a black and brown and yellow bird.  That was Mrs. Bob Lincoln.  Little Luke put aside the grass and there was the nest.  It was so cunningly hidden that he could never have found it by looking for it.