“Oh, now I know what was in the sack!” she cried.  “But I wish I had not looked.  Oh, whatever shall I do?  He told me to throw the bag into the ocean without looking in.  But now the horrid creatures have escaped everywhere and He will know what I have done.  Oh, what will He do to punish me?”

She began to run hither and yon like a crazy woman, picking up the bugs and jumping for the fluttering insects, trying to put them back into the bag.  They stung her and bit her and got into her eyes until she screamed with pain.  As fast as she caught one another escaped, and she soon saw that it was a hopeless task.  She could never catch the millions of creatures who had scattered away to their homes in every corner of the world.

Then the Lord came to her and said very sternly, “O Woman, you have disobeyed me, just as did the very first woman of all.  And you must be punished both for your disobedience and for your inquisitiveness which has led you into the worse sin.  Not until you have gathered up every one of these insects which you have permitted to escape back into the world shall you be happy.  But I will give you wings to help you in the task.  You shall become a Woodpecker, and it shall be your task to hunt, hunt for the insects which hide away so slyly at your approach.  Not till the last one of these is gobbled up from the earth shall you return to your own shape and be a woman once more.”

Then the Lord changed the inquisitive woman into a restless Woodpecker, and with a “tut-tut!” she darted away in pursuit of the insects which had brought her into such trouble.

And that is why to this day one sees the Woodpecker pecking so frantically on the tree trunks, anxious lest a single insect should escape.  For she is very tired of being a bird, and is longing to become a woman once more.  But it will be a very long time, I fear, before she gathers up all the wriggling, squirming, hopping, buzzing, stinging, biting things that make life in the country so varied, exciting, and musical.

WHY THE NIGHTINGALE WAKES

When the other birds are sound asleep in their nests, with their little heads tucked comfortably under their feathers, Sister Nightingale, they say, may not rest, but still sounds the notes of her beautiful song in grove and thicket.

Why does she sing thus, all night long as well as through the day?  It is because she dares not go to sleep on account of the Blindworm, who is waiting to catch her with her eyes closed.

Once upon a time, when the world was very new, the Blindworm was not quite blind, but had one good eye.  Moreover, in those days the Nightingale also had but one eye.  As for the Blindworm, it mattered very little; for he was a homely creature, content to crawl about in the dark underground, or under wood and leaves, where nobody saw him and nobody cared.  But the Nightingale’s case was really quite too pitiful!  Fancy the sweetest singer among all the birds, the favorite chorister, going about with but one eye, while every one else, even the tiniest little Humming Bird of all, had two.