THE
next morning Bud started to the Duck Pond with his Big Cage Trap. Besides
the trap he carried a long piece of stout cord such as Farmer Smith used
for binding the Golden Yellow Grain into bundles. He also took along a
large pocketful of corn and the mysterious package that had arrived
through the mail.
"I
am going with you," announced Mary, as Bud started across the Green
Meadow.
"All
right, you may come if you like," said Bud.
And
so Bud let Mary help him carry the Big Cage Trap to the Duck Pond, for it
really was too large for him to manage well alone.
"You
are not going to kill the Mallards or keep them prisoners, are you?"
asked Mary as they walked along.
"There
you go asking questions again," replied Bud. "What difference
does it make?"
"If
you try to keep them prisoners, I'll turn them loose; and if you're going
to kill them, I'll stand on the bank all day and shoo them away from your
trap; so there," said Mary.
"I'm
not going to kill them, and I'm not going to keep them more than a few
minutes," promised Bud, when he thought that Mary might interfere
with his plan.
"Then
what do you want to trap them for?"
"You
wait a little while and I'll show you."
"Well,
I suppose if I have to, I can; but I warn you not to hurt them."
Bud
and Mary carried the Big Cage Trap to a place on the Marshy Bank of the
Duck Pond where they had often seen the Mallards sunning themselves. It
was the place where the Mallards always came out on the bank when they
were tired of swimming, that is, if a duck ever gets tired of such sport.
When
the Big Cage Trap was placed just where Bud wanted it, he cut a short
stick and propped up one side high enough so the Mallards could walk under
it. He tied one end of his long string to the top of the prop, and unwound
the rest of it until it reached to a large clump of Tumbled Bulrushes.
"You
sit here out of sight while I go back and scatter the corn," said Bud
to Mary.
Bud
scattered some of the corn on the ground in front of the Big Cage Trap,
but most of it he placed under it.
"Pull
the string and see how it works," he called to Mary. Mary gave the
string a pull and down came the front of the Big Cage Trap.
"That's
good," said Bud; "now wait till I set it again."
Bud
propped up the front of the Big Cage Trap as he had done the first time,
covered it with a few Fuzzy Cat-tails to partly hide it, and then hid
himself in the big clump of Tumbled Bulrushes beside Mary.
"I
guess the Mallards must be over in the Sheltered Little Cove," said
Bud, "but they will be back here before long."
"I
hope they come soon," said Mary.
Bud
cut a few Fuzzy Cat-tails and stuck them around to fill some openings in
the Tumbled Bulrushes. He was afraid the sharp eyes of the Mallards
might look through the openings and see him and Mary. Then he put some
over the top so the Mallards could not see them if they flew over.
After
a while Mary grew tired of waiting. "I wish they would hurry,"
she said. Bud and Mary had not been waiting long, but it seemed like a
long time to Mary.
Suddenly
Mary pointed across the Duck Pond. "Oh, look! There they come."
"Psst,"
whispered Bud. "Not so loud. Keep down or they will see you. Don't
try to watch them, or you will scare them away. I'll do the
watching."
"I
want to see them," said Mary.
"Here,
stick some of this swamp grass in your hair; that will help to hide
it," said Bud, and he put a few pieces in his cap.
On
came the Mallards. When they were near shore, they stopped to play Tip-up
and Dive awhile. Mary's heart was jumping, and once, she almost caused Bud
to pull the string. Some of the Mallards were swimming nearer to shore.
"Quiet
down before you spoil everything," whispered Bud; "you are
shaking as if you were cold."
"I
can't help it," said Mary. "I'm afraid they won't go
under."
Of
course, the Mallards had no idea that Bud had set a Big Cage Trap for
them. They thought everything looked the same as when they had left. They
had not looked very closely, because they were so used to finding
everything the same when they came back to sit on the Marshy Bank.
At
last Mrs. Mallard walked up the bank. She noticed a few grains of corn
lying there, and she ate them. A little farther she saw some more, and she
walked over and ate them.
"Qua-ack
quack-quack-quack," said Mrs. Mallard. "Look at all the corn I
have found."
It
didn't take the rest of the Mallards long to scramble out of the water and
up the bank, and soon all of them were scooping up corn with their broad
bills.
Bud
gave the string a quick pull, and down came the Big Cage Trap.
"Oh,
goody! "said Mary, "we caught everyone."
"Say,
that was luck," said Bud; "I didn't expect to get more than half
of them the first time. Go easy so as not to frighten them until they get
used to us. They might fly against the Big Cage Trap and hurt
themselves."
"I
wonder what Mrs. Mallard is saying to her youngsters," said Mary;
"they must be terribly scared."
A New Experience for the
Mallards
OF COURSE, when the Mallards first learned
that they were prisoners, they were very much frightened. They could not
understand what had happened. Bud and Mary approached the Big Cage Trap
quietly so as not to alarm them. The Mallards ran into the small cage at
the back, and Bud closed the door between.
"Well, now that you have them caught,
what are you going to do with them?" asked Mary.
"Band them," said Bud, as he took
the mysterious package from his pocket.
"What do you mean?" asked Mary.
Bud opened the Box. In it were a number of
small, aluminum bands with numbers on them. "We'll put a band on a
leg of each one, and then we'll know if they come back to the Duck Pond
next summer."
"How interesting! " said Mary,
"So that is what you got from the government."
"Yes; you see we must get a permit
from the government before we can band birds. Then when we put a band on a
bird, we make out a card saying what kind of bird we put it on, where and
when we banded it, and such things, and send it to Washington. These cards
are kept on file, and if the birds are ever caught again, the government
knows how far they are from the place where they were banded."
Bud reached his hand into the cage and
brought out one of the Mallards. After a band had been put on its leg, Bud
wrote the number of the band on a card, and put the duck back into the big
cage. Then he finished filling out the card with the information that was
wanted.
One by one the Mallards were banded in the
same way and placed in the large cage until at last Bud came to Mr.
Mallard himself. "Oh, see here! " exclaimed Bud. "Mr.
Mallard is already wearing a band. Now, where do you suppose he got it? We
must send the number to Washington and find out. Let's see, it is
96,501."
Bud wrote the number on a piece of paper,
and put Mr. Mallard in with the rest of his family. Then after all of them
had been banded, Bud raised the Big Cage Trap, and away flew the Mallards.
"Let us see if we can catch the
Spoonbills also," suggested Mary.
"I haven't any more corn with
me," said Bud, "but we can come back to-morrow and try it. We
can leave the Big Cage Trap hidden in the Jungle Thicket."
Bud and Mary carried the Big Cage Trap into
the Jungle Thicket, and then started back to the Grand Old House.
"How did you know about banding
birds?" asked Mary, as they walked along.
"Well, I thought it would be nice if
some of our Feathered Friends on the Old Homestead were marked so that we
would know them if they came back next year. That night after we saw the
Mallards playing Sail I asked Dad about it, and he said he would write to
the Biological Survey for me. It is too late to do much this year, but
next year I intend to have some different kinds of Cage Traps ready and
start early, because the Biological Survey has asked us to start a banding
station on the Old Homestead."
"Yes, I suppose it is a little late to
do much this year," said Mary. "The Bluebirds have gone to the
Big Mountains where it is cooler, and the Robins and Orioles and Kingbirds
have left their nests also. But it will be fun to band the Spoonbills
before they leave."
"I am going to write to Washington and
send the number of Mr. Mallard's band," said Bud, when they arrived
at the Grand Old House. And this is what Bud wrote:
"DEAR SIRS:
"I received the bird bands that you
sent to me, and to-day when I was putting them on the Mallards I found
that Mr. Mallard already had a band on his leg. It was No. 96,501. I
wonder where this was put on and when, and also who did it. I am going to
try to put bands on the Spoonbills tomorrow, and then I will send all the
file cards to you which you sent. Next year I want to put bands on lots of
birds, but school starts next week and you know how much time that leaves
a fellow. I hope you will not forget to tell me who banded Mr. Mallard.
"Yours truly,
"BUD SMITH."
A few days later, Bud received an answer to
his letter, which read:
"DEAR BUD
"Your letter in which you gave us the
number of a band that you found on the leg of an adult male Mallard has
been received, for which we thank you.
"You will probably be interested to
know that this duck was banded two years ago this fall at Thomasville,
Georgia, by C. T. James.
"We hope that you will report the
progress of your work from time to time, and we know you will find it
interesting.
"Very truly yours,
"BUREAU OF BIOLOGICAL SURVEY."
"Just think how far Mr. Mallard has
traveled! " said Mary, when Bud read the letter to her.
"Yes, and not once but several
times," replied Bud. "You see, he was banded two years ago, and
that means he has made three trips since then between the Sunny Southland
and the Land of Cool Breezes."
"Oh, I do hope that the Mallards come
back to the Old Homestead next spring," said Mary.
A Visit With Sandhill the
Crane
YOU may be sure that the Young Mallards
were glad to get away when Bud lifted the Big Cage Trap and turned them
loose. They did not quite know what to think about it. Of course, Mr.
Mallard had been banded before, but still he was not sure just what Bud
would do. A duck can never be sure what Fearful the Man will do, or what
Fearful the Man's boy will do. And so the Mallards flew to the Yellow
Stubble Field to talk it over. They thought they would be safe there.
The Yellow Stubble Field was a long way
from the Duck Pond. Farmer Smith had gathered the Golden Yellow Grain long
before, but there were still many, many Tempting Kernels on the ground
that had fallen out of the heads.
In a little while the Mallards were so busy
hunting Tempting Kernels that they were too interested to think about the
Big Cage Trap and their fright. Yes, sir; they waddled about among the
Yellow Stubbles and quacked their delight to one another.
Finally Ducky Doodles looked up at the sky.
He had heard a queer call from some one up there, which he had never heard
before. "Carrrrrump, carrrrrump," it sounded far above. Then
Ducky Doodles saw a flock of strange birds, with very long necks sticking
out in front and very, very long legs sticking out behind. They were
playing a game of Sail, and scarcely moved their wings. Ducky Doodles did
not know whether they were friends or enemies. He was afraid they might
swoop down like Sharptoes the Duck Hawk and carry away some of his
brothers and sisters.
"Oh, what are those strange birds up
there?" asked Ducky Doodles.
"Those are Sandhill the Crane and his
friends," said Mrs. Mallard.
"Where are they going, mother?"
asked Ducky Diver.
"They are going back to the Sunny
Southland before Old Man Winter comes down from the Land of Ice. I suppose
Sandhill the Crane is all tired out and hungry after playing the game of
Sail all day. Perhaps he would like to stop and eat some of the Tempting
Kernels," and Mrs. Mallard quacked as loud as she could to let
Sandhill know that the Yellow Stubble Field was a good place to stop.
Sandhill the Crane heard, and began to Sail
in a wide circle, followed by his friends. Sandhill was old and very wise.
He knew that sometimes Terror the Hunter put out wooden ducks and geese in
the field to fool him, and used a coarse reed on which he quacked like a
duck. The wooden decoys looked so much like live ducks that it was
difficult for even Sandhill the Crane to tell the difference.
And so Sandhill was not in any hurry to
settle down in the Yellow Stubble Field even though he was very hungry.
Around and around sailed the Cranes, spying out every place where Terror
the Hunter might be hidden.
"Qua-ack quack-quack-quack," said
Mrs. Mallard. "Come on down. There is no danger here, and there are
plenty of Tempting Kernels."
"Carrrrrump, carrrrrump," said
Sandhill the Crane. "Are you sure Terror the Hunter is not hiding
near?"
"Yes, I am sure," said Mrs.
Mallard.
At last Sandhill the Crane and his friends
floated down and settled in the Yellow Stubble Field near the Mallards.
But Sandhill was not to be caught napping. Whenever he stopped to eat, he
always posted sentinels to watch for Terror the Hunter. He had learned
that it paid to be careful.
Mr. and Mrs. Mallard knew that Sandhill the
Crane was one bird that Terror the Hunter could not creep up on very
easily. You see, Sandhill was very tall. He was almost as tall as Longlegs
the Heron, and Longlegs was almost as tall as Bud. Sandhill could see a
long way because he was so tall, and the Mallards felt quite safe when he
was near with his sentinels.
Sandhill the Crane was one of the first of
the Feathered Friends to leave the Chilly Northland before Old Man Winter
came down from the Land of Ice and covered the Great Wide World with a
Soft White Blanket. Perhaps it was because Sandhill's long neck and legs
got cold so easily that he came early. The Mallards knew that when he
appeared it would soon be time for them to start for the Sunny Southland.
Of course, the Mallards did not mind the cold so much, because they had
thick, warm coats of Glossy Feathers, but they did mind it when the water
froze over.
The Mallards were having a fine time, when
suddenly one of Sandhill's sentinels sounded an alarm.
"Carrrrrump, carrrrrump," he
said. "I see something that looks suspicious."
Then all Sandhill's friends stopped eating
and looked. Sure enough, there was something dark on the edge of the
field, and Sandhill decided it was time to go.
"Carrrrrump, carrrrrump," called
Sandhill as he took to the air. And the Mallards did not waste any time
getting back to the Duck Pond.
"What do you suppose Sandhill the
Crane saw?" asked Ducky Diver, after the Mallards had reached the
Duck Pond. "I did not see anything."
"That is because you are young, and
your eyes are not yet trained to look for danger," said Mr. Mallard.
"When you are as old as Sandhill the Crane, you will be able to see
many things that you do not now notice."
"Shall we see Sandhill again?"
asked Ducky Doodles.
"Perhaps we shall see him in the Sunny
Southland," said Mr. Mallard, "for he lives near us during the
winter. We shall also meet many other Feathered Friends who have been
spending their summer in the Chilly Northland."
Honker the Goose Takes a
Rest
HONKER the Goose left the Land of Cool
Breezes one day late in September. He had with him his family and some of
his friends. He had lived all summer in the Chilly Northland, where Mrs.
Goose had built a nest near a lake, and had raised six fine Goslings.
There had been a time during the summer
when Honker the Goose and the other Geese could not fly. You see, Honker
wore a very heavy coat of Glossy Feathers, and when the warm summer days
came he was too warm. And so Honker had lost most of his feathers,
including many from his wings; and for a while he had not enough to carry
him. He lived on the ground and on the water then, and if danger came near
he had to run away or hide. If he was on the water, he frequently dove out
of sight and swam to the Tumbled Bulrushes to hide.
As the Playful Air Whiffs grew colder and
colder, Honker's feathers grew in again, and by fall, when the Fat
Goslings had grown their Glossy Feathers, Honker had also put on a bright
new coat and was ready to fly again.
And so one late September day Honker called
his family and some of his friends together and told them it was time to
start for the Sunny Southland. Honker was in the lead, and behind him, in
two long rows that made a large V in the sky, followed the others. Honker
was very strong and very wise, and he flew ahead of the others to guide
them on the long journey, so they would be sure not to lose the way.
Sometimes when Honker grew tired he would
drop back into one of the lines and one of his strong friends would take
his place at the head of the big V. Sandhill the Crane and his friends had
already started for the Sunny Southland about three weeks before; but then
Sandhill always started ahead of almost every one else.
One day, while Honker and his flock were
flying southward, the Gray Cloud Ships came sailing across the sky and the
Merry Little Snowflakes began to fall. It was rather confusing to know
where to fly when Honker could not see the way, and so just as the Weird
Darkness began to steal over the Great Wide World, Honker guided his flock
downward in search of a Resting Place for the night.
"Honk-honk," said Honker the
Goose as a signal, and "Honk, honk, honk," answered the others
all along the lines. Then the lines tipped downward, and soon Honker and
his friends were skimming along not far above the ground.
Suddenly, in the Weird Darkness, Honker saw
a small patch of water. "Qua-ack quack-quackquack," called some
one from below, and Honker turned his flock and flew back over the water.
Honker was very tired, and his friends and
family were very tired, and Honker did not spend so much time as he
usually did in spying out the land before coming down. It was getting
late, and it would be hard to find another Resting Place.
Honker circled again and started back
toward the water. Then he saw the Grand Old House.
That was not the first time he had seen it,
for Honker had made many trips. "It is the Old Homestead, said
Honker, as he set his wings to glide down to the Duck Pond. "I know
we shall be safe here."
My, what a quacking and a honking there was
as Honker and his flock plunked into the water near the Mallards! Even Bud
heard it up at the Grand Old House as he carried in the last armful of
wood for the night.
"Honker and his friends are
back," said Bud, as he piled the wood in the wood box, "and you
should hear what a noise they are making with the Mallards."
"It's a sure sign that Old Man Winter
has arrived when Honker the Goose goes south," said Farmer Smith.
But the next morning the Laughing Yellow
Sun came out, and for a week Honker and his flock did not leave. Each
morning, about the time that the Smiling Yellow Sun was peeping out of the
east, Honker would take his family to the Rustling Cornfield for
breakfast. When they were full, they would fly back to the Duck Pond for a
game of Tip-up until afternoon. Then back to the Rustling Cornfield they
would go for supper, and at dark they would return to the Duck Pond for
the night.
Of course, the Mallards were enjoying trips
to the Rustling Cornfield also, and sometimes they went to the Yellow
Stubble Field for a change. For some reason Honker always liked to go back
to the same place.
One day Terror the Hunter noticed that
Honker always took his family to the same place to feed. And so he thought
he would hide in the Rustling Cornfield and get a goose when the flock
came there for breakfast. But Honker was a wise old leader. He had been
expecting Terror to do that very thing, and was watching.
That morning Honker noticed a bright flash
as he circled over the field with his followers. The Laughing Yellow Sun
had flashed a warning reflection to Honker from Terror's shining gun, and
Honker took his family to another place for breakfast. Then, instead of
going back to the Duck Pond, he led them far, far to the southward toward
their winter home.
"Honker the Goose has left," said
Bud that night; "we must be going to have another storm."
Of course, Bud did not know that Honker the
Goose had been alarmed by Terror the Hunter. He thought Honker had left
because a storm was coming; for Honker usually played Sail ahead of
storms. Perhaps Honker left because he really did know a storm was on the
way, but he had been frightened by Terror the Hunter also. It was strange
how Honker could tell when the Merry Little Snowflakes were about to fall,
but many of the Wild Creatures can do that.
The Young Mallards Hear a
Story
IT WAS a gray day at the Old Homestead the
day after Honker the Goose left with his family. Just as Bud had guessed,
a storm was threatening.
The Mallards sat huddled on the Marshy Bank
of the Duck Pond, but the Marshy Bank was no longer soft. The Drooping
Willow Trees were leafless, and the Tumbled Bulrushes were tan instead of
green. The ground around the Jungle Thicket was covered with Dancing
Little Leaflets. Most of the Feathered Friends had left.
Over among the Fuzzy Cat-tails Danny
Muskrat was busy piling more Swamp Grass and Moss and Oozy Mud on his
Grassy House to make it warmer. Of course, the mud soon froze, but Danny
did not mind that. There was a ring of ice around his Grassy House, and it
would not be long until the Duck Pond would all be frozen over.
Each night the Playful Air Whiffs had grown
colder, and each morning the ice along the Marshy Bank of the Duck Pond
had grown thicker. Danny had expected that when he built his Grassy House.
He had made his doorway so deep under water that it never froze. Danny
could always leave his Grassy House through his under-water doorway; and
after the Duck Pond was frozen over, he could stay under the ice.
As the nights grew colder, Danny Muskrat
stayed more and more under water. Instead of crawling out on the bank to
eat his Juicy Water Bulbs and Sweet Cat-tail Stalks, he sat in the water,
or carried them inside his Grassy House to eat them. That was because
every time he left the water Jack Frost began to make Sharp Little Icicles
on his fur.
It was queer how Danny could play under the
ice after the Duck Pond froze over. First Danny would take a deep breath
of air before he left his Grassy House. Danny could hold his breath a
long, long time. After he had swum as long as he could hold his breath, he
would come up under the ice. If he did not find an air pocket, he would
let out his breath against the ice like a big bubble. Soon the air would
be fresh, and Danny would take it into his lungs again and go on.
Down along Little River where the water was
moving it did not freeze so easily. Sometimes the Mallards went there for
a swim and a game of Tip-up in the Quiet Pools where the water was not so
swift.
But the next day after Honker the Goose and
his family left, the Mallards were sitting on the Marshy Bank of the Duck
Pond, while Gray Cloud Ships scurried past overhead. They had gone to the
Rustling Cornfield for breakfast, and there was nothing much else to do
but to sit.
At last Mr. Mallard began to tell the Young
Mallards a story. It was about the time when he was as young and as
inexperienced as they were.
"One day when I was young," he
said, "my father called all his family together and said it was time
to start for the Sunny Southland. Of course, we did not know anything
about the Sunny Southland, and we did not know anything about playing Sail
so far. Father told us if we would always stay near him and do as he told
us, we would never get into trouble.
"But one day we met some other young
ducks who were going to the Sunny Southland. We thought it would be fun to
fly with them. So we left our parents just a little way and flew with the
young ducks a while.
"The next day we left our parents a
little farther, and the first we knew we were so far away we could not
find them. When we arrived in the Sunny Southland, there were but three of
us left; for, without our father to guide us, we had fallen into many
traps that Terror the Hunter had set for us. That is what happens to all
Ducklets who think they know better than their parents do.
"Soon we shall be starting for the
Sunny Southland ourselves. I cannot tell you about all the dangers, for
they are too many. If you will stay with me, I can help you."
"Oh, tell us about the Sunny
Southland," said Ducky Waddles.
"Yes, do," urged Ducky Doodles,
as all the Ducklets pressed close to hear the story.
"Sometimes it is called the Land of
Sunshine," said Mr. Mallard. "It lies far, far away, over many
fields and lakes and rivers. It has many Swampy Lakes and Boggy Rivers in
which to play, and it is near the Billowy Ocean. Almost all the Feathered
Friends like to live there during Old Man Winter's reign in the Chilly
Northland, because Jack Frost never comes near to nip the Tender Green
Things and drive away the Crawly Bugs. And so there is always plenty to
eat.
"No, sir, Jack Frost knows better than
to visit the Sunny Southland. He knows that the Laughing Yellow Sun would
soon spoil all his fancywork if he did. But we must fly out to the
Rustling Cornfield now, and get our supper. It looks as if we would have a
stormy night, and we must get back to the Duck Pond early."
And away flew the Mallards after what was
to be their last meal on the Old Homestead that year.
In the Rustling Cornfield they met another
flock of Mallards. It was some of their friends who had come northward
with them in the spring when Mr. Mallard had been wounded. Their friends
had their own families of Young Ducklets with them, and soon they were all
having a fine time together.
"You must stay with us on the Duck
Pond tonight," said Mrs. Mallard to their friends, when they had
finished their supper. And so they all left the Rustling Cornfield
together.
"Good-by, Old
Homestead"
WHEN the Mallards returned to the Duck
Pond, it was snowing furiously. The Merry Little Snowflakes were dancing
down and whirling in all directions. Already a Soft White Blanket covered
everything. At last the storm that had been threatening all day had
arrived.
In came the Mallards from the Rustling
Cornfield and landed plump in the middle of the Duck Pond.
"I think we shall stay right here
to-night," said Mr. Mallard. "We can draw our feet into our
Feathers, tuck our bills under our wings, and go right to sleep after we
have had a drink. Then we do not need to fear Reddy Fox or Snoop the
Weasel or Trailer the Mink. It will be much nicer than sitting in the snow
all night on the Marshy Bank."
But the Young Mallards were not ready to go
to sleep. They quacked and splashed and had a fine time. It was only the
second snow they had ever seen, and they thought it was jolly fun.
"Just listen to those Mallards
to-night," said Bud to Mary; "they must be getting ready to
leave."
"Oh, isn't this fun!" said Mary.
"To-morrow after school we can go sliding on the Long Hill. And it
will not be long until we can go skating on the Duck Pond."
That was a busy night for the Furry Friends
on the Old Homestead. Reddy Fox was out looking for Molly Cottontail; but
Molly was safe at home in her Friendly Burrow in the Little Jungle Thicket
at the foot of High Cliff Ranger the Coyote was hunting for Jack the
jumper; but Jack had made a Cozy Form in the Rustling Cornfield, after he
had eaten his supper.
Snoop the Weasel was nosing around the
Chicken House in his new, white winter coat, but Bud had been careful to
see that he could not get in. Trailer the Mink and Lutra the Otter were
both exploring along Little River. Billy Coon was sound asleep in his
Hollow Den Tree, and Johnny Chuck was also asleep in his Hidden Den under
a big rock on the side of High Cliff not far from where Molly and Peter
lived. Digger the Badger was another sleepyhead, and so was Tawny
Chipmunk.
Mephitis the Skunk was having the hardest
time of all. He was looking for a Hidden Den where he could spend the
winter with six or eight of his friends. You see, Mephitis liked to sleep
with several in the same bed so he could keep warm. He hoped to find a
Hidden Den in which some of his friends had already made a Grassy Bed and
were snoozing. Then he could crawl right in and not have to make a bed
himself. Of course, Mephitis did not sleep all winter like Tawny Chipmunk.
Oh no. On nice warm nights Mephitis liked to take a short stroll to see if
he could find Tiny the Meadow Mouse in the Rustling Corn Shocks.
Then there was Worker the Gray Squirrel and
his thieving cousin, Chatterer the Red Squirrel. They did not care how
much it snowed, for they had wisely provided a supply of cones and nuts
and Tempting Kernels in their Secret Storehouses.
Virginia Opossum did not worry about cold
weather in her Warm Hollow Log. She could sleep until warm days came
again.
Hunting Cat lay sleeping on the Broad
Hearth in the Grand Old House, dreaming about catching Whiskers the Mouse.
And Nero the Hound was enjoying a warm bed in his new house that Bud had
just finished that day.
"Let's pop some corn and get out some
apples and play it is Christmas," said Mary, as Bud threw down an
armful of wood by the Glowing Fireplace.
"All right," agreed Bud.
"Then we will ask; Dad and Mother each to tell us a story."
The next morning was clear and cold, and
the Laughing Yellow Sun had a time to make himself felt. The ice had crept
inward toward the Mallards until only a small space remained open where.
they had stirred up the water during the night. The Rustling Cornfield and
the Yellow Stubble Field were covered deeply with a Soft White Blanket,
and it would have been a hard matter for the Ducklets to find any Tempting
Kernels.
Up at the Grand Old House Bud was scooping
many pathways through the deep snow.
"I must take some grain out to Bobby
White and the other Feathered Friends," he said to Mary, "for
they cannot find any to-day."
"And I will take some alfalfa over to
the Little Jungle Thicket for Molly and Peter. Then they will not have to
leave their Friendly Burrow to hunt for food; if they did, Ranger the
Coyote might catch them," said Mary.
"We must hurry or we shall be late to
school," said Bud. "I have to carry in some wood for Mother
before I leave."
"And some water," added Mary.
High overhead the Mallards could see flock
after flock of Feathered Friends hurrying southward, honking and quacking
in the crisp morning air.
"It is time for us to start for the
Sunny Southland," said Mr. Mallard, and he flapped his wings a few
times to limber them up after sitting on the Duck Pond all night.
Of course, the Young Mallards were anxious
to see their winter home in the Land of Sunshine even though they loved
the Old Homestead. In a moment they were all in the air and flying swiftly
away on their long journey. It was to be the longest game of Sail they had
ever played.
Mrs. Mallard looked back and quacked
loudly. She could barely see the Sheltered Little Cove because it was
covered so deep under snow. "Quaack quack-quack-quack," she
said, which was her way of saying, "Good-by, Old Homestead."
WHAT'S
NEW? 
