THE TRAVELLERS GO SOUTH
One night a maple tree, the very one under which Mr. Red Squirrel satwhen he first came to the forest, dreamed of her winter resting-time,and when she awakened early in the morning she found that her leaveswere turning yellow. They were not all brightly colored, but on each wasan edging, or a tip, or a splash of gold. You may be sure that theForest People noticed it at once.
"I told you so," chirruped a Robin to her mate. "The Orioles went longago, and the Bobolinks start to-day. We must think about our trip to theSouth." When she said this, she hopped restlessly from twig to twig withan air of being exceedingly busy.
Her husband did not answer, but began to arrange his new coat offeathers. Perhaps he was used to her fussy ways and thought it just aswell to keep still. He knew that none of the Robins would start Southuntil the weather became much colder, and he did not think it necessaryto talk about it yet. Perhaps, too, Mr. Robin was a trifle contrary andwas all the more slow and quiet because his wife was uneasy. In thatcase one could hardly blame her for talking over the family plans withthe neighbors.
Later in the day, a Bobolink came up from the marsh to say good-by. Hehad on his travelling suit of striped brown, and you would never haveknown him for the same gay fellow who during the spring and earlysummer wore black and buff and sang so heartily and sweetly. Now he didnot sing at all, and slipped silently from bush to bush, only speakingwhen he had to. He was a good fellow and everyone disliked to have himgo.
Mrs. Cowbird came up while they were talking. Now that she did not careto lay any more eggs, the other birds were quite friendly with her. Theybegan to talk over the summer that was past, and said how finely theyoung birds were coming on. "By the way," said she, in the most carelessmanner possible, "I ought to have a few children round here somewhere.Can anybody tell me where they are?"
Mrs. Goldfinch looked at her husband and he looked at the sky. TheWarblers and the Vireos, who had known about the strange egg in theGoldfinches' nest, had already left for the winter, and there seemed tobe no use in telling their secret now or quarrelling over what was past.Some of the other birds might have told Mrs. Cowbird a few things, butthey also kept still.
"It is a shame," she said. "I never laid a finer lot of eggs in my life,and I was very careful where I put them. I wish I knew how many therewere, but I forgot to count. I have been watching and watching for mylittle birds to join our flock; I was sure I should know them if I sawthem. Mothers have such fine feelings, you know, in regard to theirchildren." (As though she had any right to say that!)
The Mourning Doves were there with their young son and daughter, and youcould see by looking at them that they were an affectionate family. "Weshall be the last to go South," they cooed. "We always mean to comeNorth in the very early spring and stay as late as possible. This yearwe came much later than usual, but it could not be helped." They hadspoken so before, and rather sadly. It was said that they could tell asorrowful story if they would; but they did not wish to sadden others byit, and bore their troubles together bravely and lovingly.
"How do the new feathers work?" asked a Crow, flying up at this minuteand looking blacker than ever in his fall coat. Then all the birds beganto talk about dress. As soon as their broods were raised, you know,their feathers had begun to drop out, and they had kept on moultinguntil all of the old ones were gone and the new ones on. When birds aremoulting they never feel well, and when it is over they are both happyand proud.
"I changed later than usual this year," said the Crow, "and I feel thatI have the very latest fashions." This was a joke which he must havepicked up among the Barnyard People, and nobody knows where they gotit. Fashions never change in the Forest.
"I think," remarked a Red-headed Woodpecker, "that I have the best wingfeathers now that I ever had. They seem to be a little longer, and theyhook together so well. I almost wish I were going South to try them on along journey."
"Mr. Woodpecker's wing feathers are certainly excellent," said his wife,who was always glad to see him well dressed. "I am sure that thestrongest wind will never part them. I don't see how the Owls can standit to wear their feathers unhooked so that some of the air passesthrough their wings each time they flap them. It must make flying hard."
"Well, if you were an Owl you would understand," chuckled the Crow. "Iftheir great wings were like ours, the noise of their flying would scareevery creature within hearing, and there would not be much fun inhunting."
And so they chatted on, while from the meadow came the sound of thehappy insects piping in the sunshine. It was chilly now at night and inthe early morning, and they could give concerts only at noonday. Thenext day the Wild Turkeys came and there was great excitement in theforest. The Squirrels were busier than ever storing up all the acornsthat they could before the newcomers reached the oak trees; and the BlueJays were so jealous of the Turkeys that they overate every day for fearthere would not be enough to go around. As though there were any danger!
The Ground Hog was getting so sleepy now that he would doze off whilepeople were talking to him, and then he would suddenly straighten up andsay: "Yes, yes, yes! Don't think that I was asleep, please. The colorsof the trees are so bright that they tire my eyes and I sometimes closethem." The dear old fellow really never knew how he had been nodding.
The Snakes, too, were growing dull and slow of motion, while the Batstalked freely of hanging themselves up for the winter. The Grouse andQuail made daily trips to the edges of the grain-fields, and found richpicking among the stubble. You could almost fancy that they came homeeach night fatter than when they went away in the morning.
Life went on in this way for many days, and the birds had all stoppedsinging. There were no more happy concerts at sunrise and no more carolsat evening; only chirrupings and twitterings as the feathered peoplehopped restlessly from one perch to another. All could see that theywere busily thinking and had no time for music. The truth was that eachbird who was not to spend the winter in the Forest felt as thoughsomething were drawing--drawing--drawing him southward. It was somethingthey could not see or hear, and yet it was drawing--drawing--drawing allday and all night. They spoke of it often to each other, and the olderbirds told the young ones how, before long, they would all start South,and fly over land and water until they reached their winter home.
"How do we know where to go?" asked the children.
"All that you have to do," the older ones said, "is to follow us."
"And how do you know?" they asked.
"Why, we have been there before," they answered; "and we can see theplaces over which we pass. But perhaps that is not the real reason, forsometimes we fly over such great stretches of water that we can seenothing else and it all looks alike. Then we cannot see which way to go,but still we feel that we are drawn South, and we only have to thinkabout that and fly onward. The fathers and sons can fly the faster andwill reach there first. The mothers and daughters come a few days later.We never make a mistake."
"It is wonderful, wonderful," thought a young Rabbit on the grass below."I must watch them when they go."
The very next morning the Forest People awakened to find a silvery froston the grass and feel the still air stirred by the soft dropping of dampred, brown, and yellow leaves from the trees. Over the river and all thelowland near it hung a heavy veil of white mist.
"It is time!" whispered the Robins to each other.
"It is time!" cooed the Mourning Doves.
"It is time!" cried the Cowbirds in their hoarse voices.
All through the forest there was restlessness and quiet haste. TheJuncoes had already come from the cold northland and were resting fromtheir long flight. The Ground Hogs, the Rabbits, and the Squirrels wereout to say good-by. The Owls peeped from their hollow trees, shadingtheir eyes from the strong light of the sun. And then the travellerswent. The Robins started in family parties. The Mourning Doves slippedquietly away. The Cowbirds went in a dashing crowd. And the Crows, aftermuch talking and disputing on the tree-tops
, took a noisy farewell ofthe few members of the flock who were to remain behind, and, joiningother flocks from the North, flew off in a great company which darkenedthe sky and caused a shadow to pass over the stubble-field almost likethat of a summer cloud.
"They are gone!" sighed the Ground Hog and his wife. "We shall miss themsadly. Well, we can dream about them, and that will be a comfort."
"Jay! Jay!" shrieked a handsome-crested fellow from the tree above."What if they are gone? They will be back in the spring, and we haveplenty to eat. What is the use of feeling sad? Jay! Jay!"
But all people are not so heartless as the hungry Blue Jays, and thesong-birds had many loving friends who missed them and longed for theirreturn.