Prevod
Veščci poznajo skoraj vsakogar in so zelo družabni. Vabijo jih na srečanja, ki jih prireja dnevna druščina, pa tudi na zabave tistih, ki podnevi spijo. Pa ne zato, ker bi bili veščci ves čas budni. Ojej, kje pa! V ribniku, gozdu, na travniku, v močvirju ali celo v hišah ni nikogar, ki bi bil lahko zdrav, krepak in srečen, ne da bi se dodobra naspal.
Veščci so bili bolj ali manj budni tudi podnevi, toda najbolj živahni so postali šele, ko se je sonce nizko spustilo na zahodnem nebu. Ko je bila senca vsakega drevesa dvakrat ali trikrat daljša od drevesa samega, je bilo zaslišati brrrnenje kril in veščci so švigali mimo. Pokonci so ostajali še dolgo potem, ko je dnevna druščina že odšla spat. Mačji oponašalec, ki je prepeval na konici najvišje javorjeve veje še dolgo potem, ko je večina njegovih ptičjih prijateljev že spala, je povedal, da so veščci še vedno letali naokrog, ko je sam že spravil glavo pod perut. Tako so se seveda spoznali tudi z nočno druščino.
Med njimi je bil čeden, velik veščec, ki je bil v mladosti paradižnikova gosenica, čeprav se je v resnici prav toliko hranil s krompirjevo cimo kakor s paradižnikovimi rastlinami. Čeden je bil od konice svojega dolgega, vitkega sesala do konca lepo oblikovanega sivega telesa. Njegova krila so bila koničasta in svetlo siva, čez zadnji par pa so potekale štiri črnikaste proge. Tudi telo je bilo sivo, po njem in po krilih pa je imel veliko nežnih črnih ali zelo temno sivih vzorcev. Na zadnjem delu telesa je imel deset kvadratastih rumenih lis s črnim robom. Tam je bilo tudi dvajset drobnih belih pik, vendar mu te niso toliko pomenile. Vedno ga je žalostila misel, da so njegove rumene lise tako slabo vidne. Temu se seveda ni dalo pomagati in moral bi biti hvaležen, da jih sploh ima.
Mučilo ga je še nekaj: svojih rumenih lis ni mogel videti. Marsikaj bi dal, da bi jih lahko. Videl je rumene lise drugih veščcev, ki so bili paradižnikove gosenice takrat kot on, toda to ni bilo isto, kot če bi videl svoje. Poskušal je in poskušal, a vselej se je končalo enako — oči so bile utrujene, hrbet pa ga je bolel. Njegovo telo je bilo toliko bolj čokato in togo od teles njegovih bratrancev metuljev, da ga ni mogel zlahka upogniti.
Kadar je začel razmišljati o svojih rumenih lisah, je pogosto odletel na kmetove krompirjeve njive, kjer so se hranile mlade paradižnikove gosenice. Letal je okoli njih in vzklikal: »Poglejte moje rumene lise. Mar niso čudovite?« Potem je švignil na zelenjavni vrt in obvisel v zraku nad paradižnikovimi rastlinami. Ob brnenju njegovih kril so tamkajšnje paradižnikove gosenice pogledale navzgor in rekel jim je: »Če boste pridne gosenice in boste veliko jedle, boste morda nekoč postale čedni veščci, kakršen sem jaz, in vsaka bo imela deset rumenih lis.«
Včasih je šel celo v kot vrta, kjer je kmet gojil tobak, in pokazal svoje rumene lise tudi tamkajšnjim paradižnikovim gosenicam. Nikamor drugam ni zahajal, saj te gosenice druge hrane ne marajo. Kamor koli je prišel, so paradižnikove gosenice vzklikale: »Oh! Oh! Kako lepe rumene lise! Kako čudovite rumene lise!« Ko je odletel, nekaj časa niso jedle, temveč so počivale na svojih debelih panožicah, dvignile sprednji del telesa v zrak, zložile šest drobnih pravih nog pod brado ter premišljevale in premišljevale in premišljevale. Kadar so premišljevale, so vedno sedele tako, in imele so veliko sorodnic, ki so počele isto. To je bila družinska navada.
Ko so jih drugi videli tako sedeti, s pravimi nogami prekrižanimi pod brado, so vselej vzkliknili: »Poglejte sfinge!« Čeprav nihče izmed njih ni vedel, kaj sfinga v resnici je. In to je bila pač ena njihovih navad. Zato so veščcem včasih pravili tudi sfingini metulji.
Ni bilo lepo od veščca, da je prihajal in zbujal nezadovoljstvo v paradižnikovih gosenicah. Če bi jih pustil pri miru, bi se jim zdelo nekaj najlepšega na svetu, da so debele zelene paradižnikove gosenice z dvema vrstama nog in z rožičkom, ki vsaki štrli navzgor na zadnjem koncu telesa. To sicer ni običajno mesto za rogove, a se prav dobro obnese, in ti rožički so zgolj za okras. Nikoli jih ne uporabljajo za zbadanje ali pikanje.
Preden jih je veščec začel obiskovati, so paradižnikove gosenice mislile, kako mirno, spokojno in prijetno bo vso zimo ležati v bleščečih rjavih bubnih ovojih v zemlji ter čakati pomlad, da dokonča njihovo preobrazbo v veščce. Zdaj pa so tako nestrpno hotele dobiti svoje rumene lise, da so komaj prenesle misel na čakanje. Nič več jim ni bilo mar niti za dolgo, vitko nožnico sesala, ki jo ima vsaka paradižnikova gosenica na svojem bubnem ovoju in je videti kakor ročaj.
Nekega dne so paradižnikove gosenice vse to povedale rubinastogrlemu kolibriju. Kolibri je bil zelo razumen možakar in bi bil nedvomno skrben mož in oče, če njegova žena ne bi bila tako samostojna. Bil je nadvse predan snubec in pomagal je zgraditi ljubko gnezdo iz praprotnih dlačic in rastlinskega puha ter ga prekriti s čudovitimi sivozelenimi lišaji. Dokončano gnezdo je bilo veliko približno za polovico kokošjega jajca in en sam cvet slaka bi ga več kot prekril. Lišaji so bili natanko take barve kakor veja, na kateri je gnezdo počivalo, zato ga je bilo komaj mogoče opaziti. To je najlepše, kar lahko rečemo o gnezdu. Če vas kak ptič kdaj vpraša, kaj si mislite o njegovem gnezdu, in mu želite povedati kaj posebno prijetnega, se morate zazreti v drevo in vprašati: »Kje pa je?« Potem ko vam ga pokaže, lahko pohvalite mehko podlogo, fino prepletenost ali to, kako trdno je pritrjeno na veje.
Ko je bilo gnezdo dokončano in sta bili vanj zneseni dve drobceni beli jajci, gospe Kolibri ni bilo mar za nič drugega. Ni hotela več hoditi z možem po medičino ali se z njim igrati v zraku kakor nekoč. Skušal jo je pregovoriti tako, da je švigal navzdol proti njej, medtem ko je sedela na jajcih, in ji na uho cvrkal najnežnejše besede, kar se jih je mogel domisliti, toda vedla se je, kakor da ji jajci pomenita več od njega, in mu ni v odgovor zacvrkala niti ene nežne besede. Zato je seveda odšel in ji prepustil, da sama izvali in vzgoji svoje otroke, kakor se ji zdi prav. Prav gotovo je bila sama kriva, da jo je zapustil. Morda res ni mogla zapustiti jajc, a zacvrkala bi vendar lahko.
Zdaj ko rubinastogrli kolibri ni imel domačih skrbi, je pogosto obiskoval prijatelje. To so bili zelo kratki obiski, saj je le redkokdaj sedel, pa vendar je slišal in povedal veliko novic, medtem ko je lebdel v zraku z drobnimi nožicami, spodvitimi pod telo, in tako hitro zamahoval s krili, da jih sploh ni bilo mogoče videti.
Ko so mu paradižnikove gosenice povedale, kaj čutijo ob vešččevih rumenih lisah, je bil silno ogorčen. »Uboge mlade gosenice!« si je rekel. »To je sramota in nekaj bo treba ukreniti.«
Bolj ko je premišljeval, bolj se je jezil, in perje se mu je kar nasršilo. Komaj je vedel, kaj počne, in svoj dolgi, vitki kljun je večkrat potisnil v iste cvetove, čeprav je že prvič iz njih popil vso medičino.
Tistega večera, ko je sonce zašlo in je srebrna luna kukala iznad vijoličastega oblaka na vzhodnem nebu, je rubinastogrli kolibri sedel na konici smrekove veje in čakal veščca.
»Upam, da nihče drug ne bo slišal, kaj govorim,« je dejal. »Prav neumno bi zvenelo, če bi me kdo slišal.« Sedel je čisto pri miru in se z drobnimi nožicami trdno oklepal veje. Mrak je bil že gost in res bi moral iti spat, toda sklenil je, da bo veščcu dal lekcijo, če bo le lahko ostal buden.
»Ko bi le pohitel,« je dejal. »Komaj še držim oči odprte.« Ni zazehál, ker ni imel pravih ust za to. Saj veste, zehanje mora biti skoraj okroglo. Z njegovim kljunom bi bilo veliko, veliko višje kakor širše, in to mu nikakor ne bi pristajalo.
Blizu smreke so rasli rumeni svetlini in na visokih steblih so se za noč odpirali cvetovi. Nad semenskimi glavicami in pod popki so se na vsakem steblu počasi razpirali dva, trije ali štirje cvetovi. Rubinastogrli kolibri ni pogosto ostal pokonci dovolj dolgo, da bi to videl, zato je opazoval, kako se štirje gladki rumeni venčni listi enega od cvetov odvijajo, dokler se niso mogli na široko razpreti. Opazoval je že pet cvetov, ko je zaslišal prihajati veščca. Tedaj je švignil proti svetlinom in lahkotno obvisel pred enim od njih ter iz njega srkal medičino.
Brrrr! Veščec je bil tu. »Dober večer,« je rekel. »Precej pozno zate, kajne?« »Malo pa res,« je odgovoril kolibri. »Pa tudi nekoliko hladno postaja, kajne? Človek bi si mislil, da te brez perja zebe. Moje je tako prijetno. Prav tako prijetno je, kakor je lepo, in to ni malo.«
Veščec je obvisel pred drugim svetlinom in videti je bilo, da mu je več do srkanja medičine skozi dolgo cevasto sesalo kakor do pogovora.
»Mislim, da je imenitno imeti tudi kanček žive barve,« je rekel kolibri. »Lepa rdeča lisa na mojem grlu je v hladnem vremenu videti posebno topla in mi lepo pristoji. Tudi ti bi moral imeti kaj takega.«
»Imam rumene lise — deset jih je,« je čemerno odgovoril veščec. »Jih imaš?« je skrajno presenečeno vzkliknil kolibri. »O, saj res! Zdi se mi, da se nečesa v zvezi z njimi le spomnim. Škoda, da niso bolj vidne. Gospa Kolibri nikoli ne nosi živih barv. Pravi, da to ne bi bilo prav. Če bi jih nosila, bi jo na gnezdu opazili. Razen rdeče lise je oblečena kakor jaz — bele prsi, zelen hrbet in glava ter črna krila in rep. Tudi zelena je lepa barva. Moral bi nositi kaj zelenega.«
Veščec je zamrmral, da ne vidi nobene posebne koristi v tem, da bi nosil zeleno. »O,« je rekel kolibri, »to je ravno prava barva za obleko — lična, nikoli ni videti prašna« (tu se je veščec odmaknil, saj so bila njegova krila, kot veste, skoraj barve prahu), »in popolnoma se ujema z listjem.«
Veščec je rekel nekaj o tem, da mora iti in da se mu svetlinova medičina ne zdi tako dobra kakor navadno. »Meni se je zdela odlična,« je rekel kolibri. »Morda ne prideš do nje tako zlahka kakor jaz. Ah, seveda, ti uporabljaš cevasto sesalo. Kako različno vse počnemo. Jaz imam rad medičino, a samo od nje ne bi mogel živeti prav veliko dni. Najrajši imam drobne žuželke, ki jih najdem, ko se hranijo z njo. Ti pa ne moreš jesti mesa. Kakšna škoda! Moram pa reči, da se, kot kaže, kar dobro znajdeš in ti gre še precej dobro. O, že moraš iti? No, lahko noč.«
Veščec je odletel ves nejevoljen. Vedno je imel sebe za najlepšega prebivalca v okolici. Pravzaprav je še vedno tako mislil. Vendar ga je mučilo spoznanje, da drugi ne mislijo tako, in začel se je spominjati, kolikokrat je slišal druge občudovati rubinastogrlega kolibrija. Od takrat ga ni več maral. Vendar se tudi ni več bahal.
Mlade paradižnikove gosenice so kmalu pozabile, kaj jim je govoril veščec, in spet postale srečne in zadovoljne. Rubinastogrli kolibri o tem nikoli ni rad govoril, vendar so ga nekoč slišali reči, da raje užali veščca in ga celo malo razžalosti, kakor da bi ta ves čas vznemirjal uboge male paradižnikove gosenice.
Izvirnik
The Hawk-Moths are acquainted with nearly everybody and are great society people. They are invited to companies given by the daylight set, and also to parties given at night by those who sleep during the day. This is not because the Hawk-Moths are always awake. Oh dear, no! There is nobody in pond, forest, meadow, marsh, or even in houses, who can be well and strong and happy without plenty of sleep.
The Hawk-Moths were awake more or less during the day, but it was not until the sun was low in the western sky that they were busiest. When every tree had a shadow two or three times as long as the tree itself, then one heard the whir-r-r of wings and the Hawk-Moths darted past. They staid up long after the daylight people went to bed. The Catbird, who sang from the tip of the topmost maple tree branch long after most of his bird friends were asleep, said that when he tucked his head under his wing the Hawk-Moths were still flying. In that way, of course, they became acquainted with the people of the night-time.
There was one fine large Hawk-Moth who used to be a Tomato Worm when he was young, although he really fed as much upon potato vines as upon tomato plants. He was handsome from the tip of his long, slender sucking-tongue to the tip of his trim, gray body. His wings were pointed and light gray in color, with four blackish lines across the hind ones. His body was also gray, and over it and his wings were many dainty markings of black or very dark gray. On the back part of it he had ten square yellow spots edged with black. There were also twenty tiny white spots there, but he did not care so much for them. He always felt badly to think that his yellow spots showed so little. That couldn't be helped, of course, and he should have been thankful to have them at all.
Another thing which troubled him was the fact that he couldn't see his own yellow spots. He would have given a great deal to do so. He could see the yellow spots of other Hawk-Moths who had been Tomato Worms when he was, but that was not like seeing his own. He had tried and tried, and it always ended in the same way--his eyes were tired and his back ached. His body was so much stouter and stiffer than that of his butterfly cousins that he could not bend it easily.
When he got to thinking about his yellow spots he often flew away to the farmer's potato-fields, where the young Tomato Worms were feeding. He would fly around them and cry out: "Look at my yellow spots. Are they not fine?" Then he would dart away to the vegetable-garden and balance himself in the air over the tomato plants. The humming of his wings would make the Tomato Worms there look up, and he would say: "If you are good little Worms and eat a great deal, you may some day become fine Moths like me and have ten yellow spots apiece."
Sometimes he even went down to the corner where the farmer had tobacco plants growing, and showed his yellow spots to the Tomato Worms there. He never went anywhere else, for these worms do not care for other things to eat. Everywhere that he went the Tomato Worms exclaimed: "Oh! Oh! What beautiful yellow spots! What wonderful yellow spots!" When he flew away they would not eat for a while, but rested on their fat pro-legs, raised the front part of their bodies in the air, folded their six little real legs under their chins, and thought and thought and thought. They always sat in that position when they were thinking, and they had a great many cousins who did the same thing. It was a habit which ran in the family.
When other people saw them sitting in this way, with their real legs crossed under their chins, they always cried: "Look at the Sphinxes!" although not one of them knew what a Sphinx really was. And that was just one of their habits. This was why the Hawk-Moths were sometimes called Sphinx-Moths.
It was not kind in the Hawk-Moth to come and make the Tomato Worms discontented. If he had stayed away, they would have thought it the loveliest thing in the world to be fat green Tomato Worms with two sorts of legs and each with a horn standing up on the hind end of his body. That is not the usual place for horns, still it does very well, and these horns are worn only for looks. They are never used for poking or stinging.
Before the Hawk-Moth came to visit them, the Tomato Worms had thought it would be quiet, and restful, and pleasant to lie all winter in their shining brown pupa-cases in the ground, waiting for the spring to finish turning them into Moths. Now they were so impatient to get their yellow spots that they could hardly bear the idea of waiting. They did not even care about the long, slender tongue-case which every Tomato-Worm has on his pupa-case, and which looks like a handle to it.
One day the Tomato Worms told the Ruby-throated Humming-Bird about all this. The Humming-Bird was a very sensible fellow, and would no doubt have been a hard-working husband and father if his wife had not been so independent. He had been a most devoted lover, and helped build a charming nest of fern-wool and plant-down, and cover it with beautiful gray-green lichens. When done it was about as large as half of a hen's egg, and a morning-glory blossom would have more than covered it. The lichens were just the color of the branch on which it rested, and one could hardly see where it was. That is the nicest thing to be said about a nest. If a bird ever asks you what you think of his nest, and you wish to say something particularly agreeable, you must stare at the tree and ask: "Where is it?" Then, when he has shown it to you, you may speak of the soft lining, or the fine weaving, or the stout way in which it is fastened to the branches.
After this nest was finished and the two tiny white eggs laid in it, Mrs. Humming-Bird cared for nothing else. She would not go honey-hunting with her husband, or play in the air with him as she used to do. He tried to coax her by darting down toward her as she sat covering her eggs, and by squeaking the sweetest things he could think of into her ear, but she acted as though she cared more for the eggs than for him, and did not even squeak sweet things back. So, of course, he went away, and let her hatch and bring up her children as she chose. It was certainly her fault that he left her. She might not have been able to leave the eggs, but she could have squeaked.
Now that the Ruby-throated Humming-Bird had no home cares, he made many calls on his friends. They were very short calls, for he would seldom sit down, yet he heard and told much news while he balanced himself in the air with his tiny feet curled up and his wings moving so fast that one could not see them.
When the Tomato Worms told him how they felt about the Hawk-Moth's yellow spots, he became very indignant. "Those poor young worms!" he said to himself. "It is a shame, and something must be done about it."
The more he thought, the angrier he became, and his feathers fairly stood on end. He hardly knew what he was doing, and ran his long, slender bill into the same flowers several times, although he had taken all the honey from them at first.
That night, when the sun had set and the silvery moon was peeping above a violet-colored cloud in the eastern sky, the Ruby-throated Humming-Bird sat on the tip of a spruce-tree branch and waited for the Hawk-Moth.
"I hope nobody else will hear me talking," said he. "It would sound so silly if I were overheard." He sat very still, his tiny feet clutching the branch tightly. It was late twilight now and really time that he should go to sleep, but he had decided that if he could possibly keep awake he would teach the Hawk-Moth a lesson.
"I wish he would hurry," said he. "I can hardly keep my eyes open." He did not yawn because he had not the right kind of mouth for it. You know a yawn ought to be nearly round. His beak would have made one a great, great many times higher than it was wide, and that would have been exceedingly unbecoming to him.
Yellow evening primroses grew near the spruce-tree, and the tall stalks were opening their flowers for the night. Above the seed-pods and below the buds on each stalk two, three, or four blossoms were slowly unfolding. The Ruby-throated Humming-Bird did not often stay up long enough to see this, and he watched the four smooth yellow petals of one untwist themselves until they were free to spring wide open. He had watched five blossoms when he heard the Hawk-Moth coming. Then he darted toward the primroses and balanced himself daintily before one while he sucked honey from it.
Whir-r-r-r! The Hawk-Moth was there. "Good evening," said he. "Rather late for you, isn't it?"
"It is a little," answered the Humming-Bird. "Growing a bit chilly, too, isn't it? I should think you'd be cold without feathers. Mine are such a comfort. Feel as good as they look, and that is saying a great deal."
The Hawk-Moth balanced himself before another primrose and seemed to care more about sucking honey up his long tongue-tube than he did about talking.
"I think it is a great thing to have a touch of bright color, too," said the Humming-Bird. "The beautiful red spot on my throat looks particularly warm and becoming when the weather is cool. You ought to have something of the sort."
"I have yellow spots--ten of them," answered the Hawk-Moth sulkily.
"You have?" exclaimed the Humming-Bird in the most surprised way. "Oh yes! I think I do remember something about them. It is a pity they don't show more. Mrs. Humming-Bird never wears bright colors. She says it would not do. People would see her on her nest if she did. Excepting the red spot, she is dressed like me--white breast, green back and head, and black wings and tail. Green is another good color. You should wear some green."
The Hawk-Moth murmured that he didn't see any particular use in wearing green.
"Oh," said the Humming-Bird, "it is just the thing to wear--neat, never looks dusty" (here the Hawk-Moth drew back, for his own wings, you know, were almost dust color), "and matches the leaves perfectly."
The Hawk-Moth said something about having to go and thinking that the primrose honey was not so good as usual.
"I thought it excellent," said the Humming-Bird. "Perhaps you do not get it so easily as I. Ah yes, you use a tongue-tube. What different ways different people do have. Now I like honey, but I could not live many days on that alone. What I care most for is the tiny insects that I find eating it. And you cannot eat meat. What a pity! I must say that you seem to make the best of it, though, and do fairly well. Oh, must you go? Well, good night."
The Hawk-Moth flew away feeling very much disgusted. He had always thought himself the most beautiful person in the neighborhood. He rather thought so still. Yet it troubled him to know that others did not think so, and he began to remember how many times he had heard people admire the Ruby-throated Humming-Bird. He never liked him after that. But neither did he brag.
The young Tomato Worms soon forgot what the Hawk-Moth had said to them, and became happy and contented once more. The Ruby-throated Humming-Bird never cared to talk about it, yet he was once heard to say that he would rather offend the Hawk-Moth and even make him a little unhappy than to have him bothering the poor little Tomato Worms all the time.
