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.

The Nightingale felt very sore about this matter, and tried to conceal
her misfortune from the other birds. She managed to cock her head the
other way whenever she met a friend, and she always flew past any
stranger so fast that he never saw the empty socket where he