Little Jack Rabbit's big blue book

Granddaddy Bullfrog was a wise sort of a person. He rarely spoke, but when he did he always said something worth while.

“Good morning,” shouted Little Jack Rabbit one sunshiny forenoon, stopping at the Old Duck Pond where the Old Gentleman Frog was sitting on a log.

“It’s a good morning if you have helped your mother with her work,” answered Granddaddy Bullfrog.

“I have,” replied the little bunny boy. “I’ve polished the front doorknob, fed the canary and filled the woodbox with kindling.”

“You’re a good little bunny boy,” answered the wise old frog. “When I was a tadpole I worked hard for my mother, but it never hurt me. No, siree!” and Granddaddy Bullfrog smoothed down the wrinkle in his white waistcoat and wiped his spectacles on a clean piece of meadow grass.

“You said, ‘When you were a tadpole.’ Does that mean when you were a boy?” asked Little Jack Rabbit.

“Yes, sir, that’s what it means,” replied the old gentleman frog, snapping up a fly that ventured too near the big log.

Just then Mrs. Oriole from her nest in the Weeping Willow Tree began to sing:

“When will your little birds learn to fly?” asked the curious bunny boy rabbit.

“As soon as their wings are strong and well feathered,” answered the pretty lady bird mother. “It won’t be long.”

“Ker dunk, ker dunk!” croaked Granddaddy Bullfrog.

“Don’t you like cabbage leaf cigars?” asked the little bunny boy, as the old gentleman frog wiped a tear from his left eye.

“Not so bad,” he answered. “But I can’t catch flies and smoke at the same time!”

Just then along came a buzzy bluebottle fly. Out dropped the cabbage leaf cigar as Granddaddy Bullfrog opened his mouth. Sputter, sputter! and the big cigar floated away, frightening Taddy Tadpole almost to death.

“Don’t you ever start smoking,” advised the old gentleman frog. “Cabbage is good to eat, but it makes poor cigars.”

“I never will,” answered the little bunny boy. “Mother doesn’t like it.”

Pretty soon Granddaddy Bullfrog closed his eyes. Thinking he was asleep, the bunny boy hopped away up the Old Cow Path, over the hill, till by and by, after a while, and a song and a smile, he came to the Big Red Barn, on the top of which stood the Weathercock on his gilded toe.

sang the Weathercock, whirling about to point at the big black clouds creeping over the bright blue sky.

“Dear me!” thought the bunny boy, “I must borrow an umbrella. However, just then he spied a large toadstool.

“That will do!” he laughed, and holding it over his head, he quickly hopped away.

sang Cocky Doodle, the happy little rooster.

“I’m going for a swim,” quacked Ducky Waddles, and off he went through the gate and across the Sunny Meadow to the Old Duck Pond, where all day long the blue Darning Needles skimmed over the water.

“Good morning,” quacked the wabbly little duck.

“The same to you,” answered the old gentleman frog, “fine day if it doesn’t rain.”

“I don’t care if it does,” answered Ducky Waddles, paddling off from the shore like a green-feathered ferryboat.

“Well, well, well,” cried Granddaddy Bullfrog. “What have we here? A duck poet?”

But Ducky Waddles was out of hearing by this time. Well, I should say yes, twice over. He was standing on his head, trying to catch a little fish that shimmered in the water.

“What did you say?” asked Mrs. Oriole from her stocking-like nest in the Weeping Willow Tree.

“I just remarked that we had a poet in Ducky Waddles,” answered Granddaddy Bullfrog. “Did you hear him answer me in rime?”

“No, I didn’t,” replied Mrs. Oriole. “I was busy with the children. But I heard you say something about a duck poet. I should say he was an acrobat. Look at him now,” and Mrs. Oriole pointed to Ducky Waddles still standing on his head in the water.

“Ha, ha!” laughed Granddaddy Bullfrog. “He’s fishing, that’s what he’s doing.”

Pretty soon along came Teddy Turtle with his strong shell house on his back. He didn’t have to worry about hotels in the summer. No, indeed! He carried his little bungalow on his back and stopped wherever he wanted to. Yes, sir. He could go to Newport or Narragansett Pier for the summer if he wished, I dare say. But I’m not quite sure.

“Is that Ducky Waddles out there in the pond?” asked the little turtle.

“Yes, that’s who it is,” replied Granddaddy Bullfrog, “he’s catching fish and I’m catching flies and the sun is shining up in the skies.”

“Dear me,” thought Teddy Turtle. “Granddaddy Bullfrog is talking poetry. I’d better be going,” and off he went.

But, oh, dear me! Just as the little turtle crawled away from the Old Duck Pond all of a sudden, just like that, a shadow came across the sun. Into the pond went Granddaddy Bullfrog and into his shell house went Teddy Turtle’s head and tail.

“Oh, pshaw!” cried Hungry Hawk, for it was his shadow that had fallen on the meadow as he passed between the sun and the slow crawling turtle. “I thought I had you this time.”

“Did you?” asked Teddy Turtle from the inside of his shell. “Maybe you would if I hadn’t pulled in my head and tail.”

“Now what am I going to do for dinner?” asked the old robber bird.

“I don’t know and I don’t care,” replied Teddy Turtle. “Just fly away, will you?”

“Maybe,” answered Hungry Hawk.

“Where are you?” asked Teddy Turtle after a few moments, carefully pushing out his head, but only a little way, you know. But no one answered. So the little turtle pushed out his head a little more, trying his best to look three or four ways all at once.

“Look out! Look out!” whispered Billy Breeze.

“That’s what I’m doing,” answered the little turtle. “Only I’m afraid to look out too far.”

“Be careful, be careful,” whispered Billy Breeze.

“What did you say?” asked Teddy Turtle. “I can’t hear very well inside my shell house.”

“Be careful, be careful!” whispered Billy Breeze.

But, dear me! Teddy Turtle was getting curious. Yes, sir, he was getting so curious that he just couldn’t keep his head indoors any longer.

“Look out!” shouted Billy Breeze. But, oh, dear me! It was too late. Robber Hawk had already grabbed the little turtle’s head.

“Let me go! Let me go!” begged the frightened little turtle.

“No, sir!” answered the cruel hawk. “I’m going to take you home to my wife,” and up he flew in the air. But, goodness me! He soon found out what a heavy thing a turtle is. Pretty soon the old hawk’s wings grew tired. Oh, very weary, indeed.

“I must rest,” he said to himself, turning toward an old dead tree near the edge of the Shady Forest.

“Let me go! Let me go!” again and again begged Teddy Turtle.

“Be still, will you?” answered the old robber bird, doing his best to keep his balance on the limb of the dead tree and at the same time hold on to the wiggly jiggly little turtle.

“No, I won’t,” answered Teddy Turtle, with another wiggle and a jiggle, and maybe a wiggle-jiggle-jiggle after that.

But, try as he might, he couldn’t wiggle loose from the bad hawk’s claws. Pretty soon the old bird flew off again with the little turtle.

shouted Billy Breeze.

“Stop talking to Teddy Turtle,” screamed Hungry Hawk, by this time out of breath and nearly ready to drop.

“Wiggle, wiggle, wiggle!” again shouted Billy Breeze.

Then Teddy Turtle wiggled and jiggled and jiggled and wiggled until all of a sudden, just like that, Hungry Hawk couldn’t hold him a minute longer. Down dropped the little turtle right into the Bubbling Brook and off went Hungry Hawk to rest his weary wings in a near-by tree.

“Look out for him when he’s rested,” whispered Billy Breeze.

“I’ll swim away,” answered Teddy Turtle, and down the stream he went as fast as he could go. Pretty soon he came to a nice deep place under a shelving bank. Here he hid for a long time. And maybe he would be hiding there yet if Billy Breeze hadn’t been on the lookout.

“The old hawk has flown away,” he whispered, dancing over the tall water grass that stood barefoot in the cool water.

“Are you sure?” asked the little turtle, anxiously. “I don’t want to be caught again. Dear me, but my neck is scratched. Hungry Hawk has sharp claws.”

“Oh, yes, he’s gone. He’s flown away. Maybe he’s home by this time,” answered Billy Breeze.

Teddy Turtle waited a few minutes longer, then swam boldly down the Bubbling Brook towards the Shady Forest. “Dear me, it’s a long way to Busy Beaver’s home, but I’ll be safe there, I know.”