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Unfortunately my bedstead was the most horrible creaker, in which it was impossible to turn without producing a noise that would create an alarm, should a thief be on the alert. I always slept with a pistol under my pillow, therefore, I gently grasped the revolver in my hand, and endeavoured quietly to get out of my noisy bed.
"Over home," replied Creaker, pulling a white grub out of the roots of the grass. "We've got a nest over there in one of those pine-trees on the edge of the Green Forest and I expect any day now we will have four hungry babies to feed. I shall have to get busy then. You know I am one of those who believe that every father should do his full share in taking care of his family."
"I'm glad to hear you say it," declared Peter, nodding his head with approval quite as if he was himself the best of fathers, which he isn't at all. "May I ask you a very personal question, Creaker?" "Ask as many questions as you like. I don't have to answer them unless I want to," retorted Creaker. "Is it true that you steal the eggs of other birds?"
"It's Creaker the Grackle. He was one of the first to arrive this spring and I'm ashamed of myself for not having called on him," thought Peter, as he hopped out and started across the Green Meadows towards Creaker. "What a splendid long tail he has. I believe Jenny Wren told me that he belongs to the Blackbird family.
Creaker the Grackle with the sun shining on him was truly beautiful. His head and neck, his throat and upper breast, were a shining blue-black, while his back was a rich, shining brassy-green. His wings and tail were much like his head and neck. As Peter watched it seemed as if the colors were constantly changing. This changing of colors is called iridescence.
Nobody knows who it could have been, because all the birds of the Old Orchard were over here at that time. It might leave been Chatterer the Red Squirrel, or it might have been Sammy Jay, or it might have been Creaker the Grackle, or it might have been Blacky the Crow. Whoever it was just took that chance to sneak over there and rob that nest when there was no one to see him."
One other thing Peter noticed and this was that Creaker's eyes were yellow. Just at the moment Peter couldn't remember any other bird with yellow eyes. "Creaker," cried Peter, "I wonder if you know how handsome you are!" "I'm glad you think so," replied Creaker. "I'm not at all vain, but there are mighty few birds I would change coats with." "Is is Mrs.
You see the owner might not come back and then those eggs would spoil, and that would be a pity." "That's no excuse at all," declared Peter. "I believe you're no better than Sammy Jay and Blacky the Crow." Creaker chuckled, but he did not seem to be at all offended. Just then he heard Mrs. Creaker calling him and with a hasty farewell he spread his wings and headed for the Green Forest.
He looks so much like Blacky the Crow that I suppose this is why they call him Crow Blackbird." Just then Creaker turned in such a way that the sun fell full on his head and back. "Why! Why-ee!" exclaimed Peter, rubbing his eyes with astonishment. "He isn't just black! He's beautiful, simply beautiful, and I've always supposed he was just plain, homely black." It was true.
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.
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