“peewit! peewit!” cried the lapwing, as he flew over the moss in the wood. “dame spring is coming! i can feel it in my legs and wings.”
when the new grass, which lay down below in the earth, heard this, it at once began to sprout and peeped out gaily between the old, yellow straw. for the grass is always in an immense hurry.
now the anemones in between the trees had also heard the lapwing’s cry, but refused on any account to appear above the earth.
“you mustn’t believe the lapwing,” they whispered to one another. “he is a flighty customer, whom one can’t trust. he always comes too early and starts calling at once. no, we will wait quite quietly till the starling and the swallow come. they are sensible, sober people, who are not to be taken in and who know what they are about.”
and the starlings came.
they sat down on a twig outside their summer villa and looked about them.
“too early, as usual,” said mr. starling. “not a green leaf and not a fly, except an old tough one of last year, not worth opening one’s beak for.”
mrs. starling said nothing, but looked none too cheerful either.
“if we had only remained in our snug winter-quarters beyond the mountains!” said mr. starling. he was angry because his wife did not answer, for he was so cold that he thought a little discussion might do him good. “but it’s your fault, just as last year. you’re always in such a terrible hurry to go to the country.”
“if i’m in a hurry, i know the reason why,” said mrs. starling. “and it would be a shame for you if you didn’t know too, for they are your eggs as well as mine.”
“heaven forbid!” replied mr. starling, indignantly. “when have i denied my family? perhaps you expect me, over and above, to sing to you in the cold?”
“yes, that i do!” said mrs. starling, in the tone which he could not resist.
he at once began to whistle as best he could. but, when mrs. starling had heard the first notes, she flapped her wings and pecked at him with her beak:
“will you be quiet at once!” she screamed, angrily. “that sounds so dismal that it makes one quite melancholy. you’d better see to it that the anemones come out. i think it’s high time. and, besides, one always feels warmer when there are others shivering too.”
now, as soon as the anemones had heard the starling’s first whistle, they carefully stuck their heads out of the ground. but they were still so tightly tucked up in their green wraps that one could hardly see them. they looked like green buds which might turn into anything.
