"Perhaps they are," said his father. "Perhaps each bird is telling
something to the bird he tags."
"What is he telling?" asked Peter.
"I think he is saying, 'Brother bird, don't you know that winter is
coming? Soon the snow will be here. What shall we do then?
"'We cannot get food. We shall freeze. Come, let us fly away to the
South. It is warm there.'"
"What does brother bird say?" asked Peter.
"I think brother bird says, 'It is a long way to the South. It will take
many days and nights to fly there.
"'Are our children's wings yet strong enough? I do not like to go. But
I know that we must.'"
"Doesn't he like to go, truly?" asked Peter.
"We do not know, Peter. The robins make their nests here. They lay their
blue eggs here. They hatch their little birds here. They never do this
in the South.
"Besides, they sing their beautiful songs here. They never sing them in
the South. We like to think that they love the North better. But, of
course, we do not know."
"How can they find their way back?" asked Polly.
"We do not know that, either, Polly. Many birds fly in the nighttime.
Then they rest a part of the day."
"I couldn't find my way in the dark," said Polly.
"But the birds can," said father. "We do not know how. The winter home
of some of our birds is thousands of miles from here."
"I like to watch the swallows," said Polly. "They sit in a line on a
telephone wire. Then one flies to another wire. In a minute they all
fly, too.
"I think that they are talking about going away soon. I hope they will
not get lost."
"Yes," said father. "They will soon be gone. But perhaps some of these
very birds will come back here next summer."
"I wish we could know them," said Polly.
"We shall have a few birds left this winter," said father. "You know
some of them. You know the chick-a-dees and the woodpeckers. And this
winter I shall show you others."
"May we hunt for nests and eggs, father?" asked Peter.
"We may hunt, Peter, but we won't find any eggs in winter. We shall find
other things. Perhaps we shall find the white-footed mouse. He sometimes
makes his home in an old bird's nest."
"Can a mouse climb trees, father? If he lives in a bird's nest, does he
lay bird's eggs?"
"He can climb trees, Peter. But he cannot lay eggs. We will see if we
can find Mr. White-foot some day.
"But first we will watch the birds fly away and the snow come."