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All day! There were birds dropping in the whole afternoon! Every friendly feather in the township of Hedley—in all of Connecticut!—must have shown up. That’s one more thing I found out about birds: the word spreads fast! Especially if there’s a party involved.”
    Walter bobbed impatiently, prompting Chester. “So big Sam Grackle arrived when the festivities were well under way?”
    â€œHow do you know he was big?” said Chester.
    â€œAll grackles are big”—Walter whipped himself out impatiently, and then folded himself back into an S—“and a lot of them are stupid, too. Boors! Grackles are boors.”
    â€œThat’s Sam exactly. Big, stupid, and raucous. Was he noisy! ‘Hi, gang!’ he croaked, as he landed right on top of me. I was out on the branch by now—the nest was too crowded—and Big Sam came smashing right down on my back. He apologized, though. ‘Didn’t see you, kid. Ya’re kinda little. Har! har!’ And, Walt—when you say ‘har! har!’ I know it’s a joke. You sort of say it to make fun of yourself. But when Big Sam Grackle said ‘har! har!’ he really meant ‘har! har!’ That’s just how he laughed. With a beak full of seed. You should have seen how he ate! He tore into those berries and nuts as if there were famine dead ahead. And all the time he was doing his eating he kept on telling boring stories about his relatives!”
    All Chester’s vexation wanted to burst—but the only word that came out was “Really!”
    â€œLoud-beak bum,” Walter Water Snake muttered. “I know the type. Poor cricket. Poor cricket! What did you do?”
    â€œI crawled out to the end of the branch and stayed there,” said Chester. “And nobody even knew I was gone. Those birds carried on till the sun went down. And then they all fell asleep everywhere. I thought the whole tree would fall down! Even the sturdiest willow tree can only support so many birds.”
    â€œWhere did you sleep, Chester?” Simon asked.
    â€œRight out there—the little sleep I could get—in the crook of a twig, hanging on for dear life so I wouldn’t fall into the brook. This morning I was up before anyone—I was so glad to see that sun! The birds started waking up, one by one, hiccupping and coughing, and making their tune-up morning chirps. I just left. I hopped down, branch by branch, and—left. Rude, I guess—just jumping out like that. I’ll thank John Robin and Dorothy later. But—but—” Chester shook his head slowly. His antennae waved in wide, vague circles. “I knew this morning when I woke up that the willow tree was not for me. It’s not just the party. Sooner or later, the guests will leave. Don’t guests always leave?”

    â€œNot grackles,” said Walter.
    â€œOh, he will, too. Eventually. But it’s just that—well—I think that it would be very hard jumping, going up and down branches that aren’t your own. And I think that they’d taste pretty bitter, the leaves of somebody else’s tree.”
    In the midst of the sunny August morning another pool—a pool of gloomy silence—lay over Simon Turtle’s pool.
    â€œPoor cricket,” said Walter. “Poor cricket! ” And meant it. “Ohhhhh—” He lifted the saddest voice he had, and sang dejectedly:
    A cricket moved to an old squirrel’s nest—
    To an old squirrel’s nest moved he.
    He thought he’d get some peace and rest—
    But he just got company!

FIVE
    Furry Folk
    Chester’s moping lasted—almost—till lunch. Simon Turtle, whenever he had to feel depressed, always tried to do it on a pleasant day, so he could get some sun at least. Walter Water Snake usually worked off his worry by doing figure eights on the water. He zigzagged there for about an hour—then Chester asked