The result of Peter Rabbit’s foolish search for the nest of Ol’ Mistah Buzzard was a stiff and aching neck from tipping his head back so long in order to look up in the trees. The next day, however, the ache was gone, but his curiosity was not; it was greater than ever. So Peter scampered, lipperty-lipperty-lip, over to the edge of the Green Forest to try his new plan of watching Ol’ Mistah Buzzard.

“It can’t fail,” thought Peter. “No, Sir, it can’t fail. All I have to do is to be patient. Ol’ Mistah Buzzard is bound to visit his nest, and if I watch him why of course I’ll find out where that nest is. Anyway, I’ll find the locality, and then it will be easy enough to find the nest because such a great big fellow as Ol’ Mistah Buzzard must have a great big nest, and a great big nest cannot very well be hidden.”

So Peter made himself comfortable in a little tangle of briars on the edge of the Green Forest where he could look up in the blue, blue sky and watch Ol’ Mistah Buzzard sailing round and round. Now as everybody knows, Ol’ Mistah Buzzard spends much of his time doing this very thing. He will sail about for hours because for him it is just about as easy as sitting still, and at the same time it gives him a chance to see all that is going on below, for Ol’ Mistah Buzzard’s eyes are very, very keen. At first it was easy for Peter to sit there and do nothing but watch Ol’ Mistah Buzzard, for Peter is very fond of sitting still and doing nothing. Watching Ol’ Mistah Buzzard really amounted to doing nothing.

But after awhile Peter found that staring up in the sky that way made him sleepy. In spite of all he could do his eyelids would close for a minute or two at a time. Then they would fly open and he would look up hastily to find Ol’ Mistah Buzzard still a speck high up in the blue, blue sky. More and more often Peter’s eyes closed for tiny naps, and though he didn’t know it those naps grew longer and longer. At last his eyes flew open to see nothing but the blue, blue sky and a few fleecy white clouds. Of Ol’ Mistah Buzzard there was no sign.

Peter rubbed his eyes and looked again this way and that way, but it was all too evident that Ol’ Mistah Buzzard was no longer sailing round and round high up in the blue, blue sky. He had come down while Peter was taking a nap. Peter almost cried with vexation. But there was no one to blame but himself. He knew that. If he had kept his eyes open he would have seen Ol’ Mistah Buzzard come down. But he hadn’t, and so he was no wiser than before.

Peter called himself names. Yes, Sir, he did just that very thing. He was so provoked with himself that he actually called himself names. “Anyway, it is quite useless to sit here any longer,” he concluded. “I’ll have to try again later in the day or to-morrow.”

So Peter started for home in the dear Old Briar-patch. Half way there he glanced up from force of habit. Up in the blue, blue sky some one was swinging round and round in great circles. Peter stopped short and stared. Then he grinned. It was Ol’ Mrs. Buzzard this time. She must have come out of the Green Forest while Peter was on his way home. If he had sat still a little longer he would have seen her rise into the air, and would have known just where she had come from. Peter turned and scurried back to his hiding-place.

“This time I won’t go to sleep!” he declared. “I’ll keep my eyes on Ol’ Mrs. Buzzard if I have to stick brambles into me to keep awake. I have an idea that she won’t stay up as long as Ol’ Mistah Buzzard, anyway.”