It was funnier, even, to see Mr. McGinty on the morning after his
arrival at the farm, as he sallied forth and made acquaintance with
other of God's creatures than humans and cats, and the natural enemy of
his kind, the dog. In his suburban home he had caught rats and captured
on the sly many an English sparrow. When he first investigated his new
quarters on the farm, he discovered a beautiful flock of very large
birds led by one of truly gorgeous plumage.
"Ah!" thought Mr. McGinty, "this is a great and glorious country, where
I can have such birds as these for the catching. Tame, too. I'll have
one for breakfast."
So he crouched down, tiger-like, and crept carefully along to a
convenient distance and was preparing to spring, when the large and
gorgeous bird looked up from his worm and remarked:--
"Cut-cut-cut, ca-dah-cut!" and, taking his wives, withdrew toward the
barn.
Mr. McGinty drew back amazed. "This is a queer bird," he seemed to say;
"saucy, too. However, I'll soon have him," and he crept more carefully
than before up to springing distance, when again this most gorgeous bird
drew up and exclaimed, with a note of annoyance:--
"Cut-cut-cut, ca-dah-cut! What ails that old cat, anyway?" And again he
led his various wives barn-ward.
Mr. McGinty drew up with a surprised air, and apparently made a cursory
study of the leading anatomical features of this strange bird; but he
did not like to give up, and soon crouched and prepared for another
onslaught.
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