Chapter 6 LITTLE LUKE AND KIT-CHEE THE GREAT CRESTED FLYCATCHER

Down in the far corner of the orchard stood an old apple tree. Some of its limbs were dead and the rest of it was so covered with orchard moss that it seemed gray with age. As little Luke was passing one day, he noticed a round hole in one of its branches. "Now," thought he to himself, "I'll climb up and take a peep into that hole." And so he did.

As he looked into the dark cavity, there was a sudden explosion, which sounded like the noise made by an angry cat. The little boy jumped back so quickly that he almost fell to the ground. Just then he heard someone in the branches of the tree above him. "Whee-ree, whee-ree," sounded a mocking; voice, that made little Luke think that somebody was making fun of him. He looked up and saw Kit-chee the Great Crested Flycatcher.

"Ah-ha!" said Kit-chee; "so she scared you, did she?"

The little boy moved his hand toward the hole.

"Better not; better not," said Kit-chee; "that's Mother Kit-chee in there. She doesn't like to be disturbed, and she has a temper of her own, and a sharp bill to go with it."

"Excuse me, Father Kit-chee," said the little boy; "I didn't know. I only wanted to see what was in that hole."

"All right," said Kit-chee. "We don't mind you. Perhaps, if you ask her politely, she'll come out and let you take a peep."

"Pray, Mother Kit-chee," said the little boy, "aren't you hungry? There are some nice flies and bugs out here, and besides, if you will be kind enough to allow me, I should like a peep at your nest and eggs."

"Oh, very well," answered Mother Kit-chee, "I'll do anything to oblige you, when you speak in that way." And out she came.

Both Father Kit-chee and Mother Kit-chee were rather handsome, dignified birds. They each wore a coat of butternut brown, mixed with olive green, and a vest pearl gray toward the throat and yellow lower down.

"Thank you," said the little boy to Mother Kit-chee as she came out, "I'll not disturb anything. I'll be very careful." And so he was. He looked down into the hole, where he saw five creamy-white eggs, streaked lengthwise with brown. But the queerest thing he saw was a snake-skin which formed part of the nest.

"There's the skin of a snake," exclaimed the little boy. "How did that come there? Did the snake try to steal your eggs, and did you kill him?"

"Oh, no," replied Father Kit-chee, "I found that skin over yonder in the pasture. You know that A-tos-sa the Snake sheds his skin when it grows old and stiff, and grows a new one that fits him better. We just pick up the cast-off skins and build them into our nests."

"What on earth do you do it for?" asked the little boy. "I wouldn't want such a thing around my bed. I don't like snakes, or even their skins."

"I don't like snakes either," said Kit-chee, "but it's a custom in our family to use their skins in nest-building. Wherever you find a home of one of our tribe, there you will find a snake-skin. I've heard my grandfather say that our kinfolk, who dwell far to the south beyond the big seawater, have the same custom. There's a tradition about it, too."

"Oh, please tell me about it," said the little boy. "I'm sure it will be an interesting story."

"Very well; anything to please you," said Kit-chee.