_Sunday, April seventeenth_.
A couple of days later Jarro was so well that he could fly all about the
house. Then he was petted a good deal by the mistress, and the little
boy ran out in the yard and plucked the first grass-blades for him which
had sprung up. When the mistress caressed him, Jarro thought that,
although he was now so strong that he could fly down to Takern at any
time, he shouldn't care to be separated from the human beings. He had no
objection to remaining with them all his life.
But early one morning the mistress placed a halter, or noose, over
Jarro, which prevented him from using his wings, and then she turned him
over to the farm-hand who had found him in the yard. The farm-hand poked
him under his arm, and went down to Takern with him.
The ice had melted away while Jarro had been ill. The old, dry fall
leaves still stood along the shores and islets, but all the
water-growths had begun to take root down in the deep; and the green
stems had already reached the surface. And now nearly all the migratory
birds were at home. The curlews' hooked bills peeped out from the reeds.
The grebes glided about with new feather-collars around the neck; and
the jack-snipes were gathering straws for their nests.
The farm-hand got into a scow, laid Jarro in the bottom of the boat, and
began to pole himself out on the lake. Jarro, who had now accustomed
himself to expect only good of human beings, said to Caesar, who was
also in the party, that he was very grateful toward the farm-hand for
taking him out on the lake. But there was no need to keep him so closely
guarded, for he did not intend to fly away. To this Caesar made no
reply. He was very close-mouthed that morning.
The only thing which struck Jarro as being a bit peculiar was that the
farm-hand had taken his gun along. He couldn't believe that any of the
good folk in the cottage would want to shoot birds. And, beside, Caesar
had told him that the people didn't hunt at this time of the year. "It
is a prohibited time," he had said, "although this doesn't concern me,
of course."
The farm-hand went over to one of the little reed-enclosed mud-islets.
There he stepped from the boat, gathered some old reeds into a pile,
and lay down behind it. Jarro was permitted to wander around on the
ground, with the halter over his wings, and tethered to the boat, with a
long string.
Suddenly Jarro caught sight of some young ducks and drakes, in whose
company he had formerly raced backward and forward over the lake. They
were a long way off, but Jarro called them to him with a couple of loud
shouts. They responded, and a large and beautiful flock approached.
Before they got there, Jarro began to tell them about his marvellous
rescue, and of the kindness of human beings. Just then, two shots
sounded behind him. Three ducks sank down in the reeds--lifeless--and
Caesar bounced out and captured them.
Then Jarro understood. The human beings had only saved him that they
might use him as a decoy-duck. And they had also succeeded. Three ducks
had died on his account. He thought he should die of shame. He thought
that even his friend Caesar looked contemptuously at him; and when they
came home to the cottage, he didn't dare lie down and sleep beside the
dog.
The next morning Jarro was again taken out on the shallows. This time,
too, he saw some ducks. But when he observed that they flew toward him,
he called to them: "Away! Away! Be careful! Fly in another direction!
There's a hunter hidden behind the reed-pile. I'm only a decoy-bird!"
And he actually succeeded in preventing them from coming within shooting
distance.
Jarro had scarcely had time to taste of a grass-blade, so busy was he in
keeping watch. He called out his warning as soon as a bird drew nigh. He
even warned the grebes, although he detested them because they crowded
the ducks out of their best hiding-places. But he did not wish that any
bird should meet with misfortune on his account. And, thanks to Jarro's
vigilance, the farm-hand had to go home without firing off a single
shot.
Despite this fact, Caesar looked less displeased than on the previous
day; and when evening came he took Jarro in his mouth, carried him over
to the fireplace, and let him sleep between his forepaws.
Nevertheless Jarro was no longer contented in the cottage, but was
grievously unhappy. His heart suffered at the thought that humans never
had loved him. When the mistress, or the little boy, came forward to
caress him, he stuck his bill under his wing and pretended that he
slept.
For several days Jarro continued his distressful watch-service; and
already he was known all over Takern. Then it happened one morning,
while he called as usual: "Have a care, birds! Don't come near me! I'm
only a decoy-duck," that a grebe-nest came floating toward the shallows
where he was tied. This was nothing especially remarkable. It was a nest
from the year before; and since grebe-nests are built in such a way that
they can move on water like boats, it often happens that they drift out
toward the lake. Still Jarro stood there and stared at the nest, because
it came so straight toward the islet that it looked as though someone
had steered its course over the water.
As the nest came nearer, Jarro saw that a little human being--the
tiniest he had ever seen--sat in the nest and rowed it forward with a
pair of sticks. And this little human called to him: "Go as near the
water as you can, Jarro, and be ready to fly. You shall soon be freed."
A few seconds later the grebe-nest lay near land, but the little oarsman
did not leave it, but sat huddled up between branches and straw. Jarro
too held himself almost immovable. He was actually paralysed with fear
lest the rescuer should be discovered.
The next thing which occurred was that a flock of wild geese came along.
Then Jarro woke up to business, and warned them with loud shrieks; but
in spite of this they flew backward and forward over the shallows
several times. They held themselves so high that they were beyond
shooting distance; still the farm-hand let himself be tempted to fire a
couple of shots at them. These shots were hardly fired before the little
creature ran up on land, drew a tiny knife from its sheath, and, with a
couple of quick strokes, cut loose Jarro's halter. "Now fly away, Jarro,
before the man has time to load again!" cried he, while he himself ran
down to the grebe-nest and poled away from the shore.
The hunter had had his gaze fixed upon the geese, and hadn't observed
that Jarro had been freed; but Caesar had followed more carefully that
which happened; and just as Jarro raised his wings, he dashed forward
and grabbed him by the neck.
Jarro cried pitifully; and the boy who had freed him said quietly to
Caesar: "If you are just as honourable as you look, surely you cannot
wish to force a good bird to sit here and entice others into trouble."
When Caesar heard these words, he grinned viciously with his upper lip,
but the next second he dropped Jarro. "Fly, Jarro!" said he. "You are
certainly too good to be a decoy-duck. It wasn't for this that I wanted
to keep you here; but because it will be lonely in the cottage without
you."