BIRD STORIES 



to return to the two Olairs, who had long since wakened 

 from their naps and were glad to see their handsome 

 father and mother again. 



By the time the two Olairs were full grown, Gavia had 

 molted many of her prettiest feathers and was looking 

 rather odd, as she had on part of her summer suit and 

 part of her winter one. Father Loon had much the same 

 appearance; for, of course, birds that live in the water 

 cannot shed their feathers as many at a time as Corbie 

 could, but must change their feather-wear gradually, so 

 that they may always have enough on to keep their 

 bodies dry. And summer and winter, you may be sure 

 that a loon takes good care of his clothes, oiling them 

 well to keep them waterproof. 



Fall grew into winter, and the nest where Gavia had 

 brooded the spring before now held a mound of snow in 

 its lap. The stranded log against which the little Olair 

 had been bumped while he was napping, months ago, 

 was glazed over with a sparkling crust. The water 

 where Gavia and Father Loon had fished for their 

 children, and had played games and run races with 

 Neighbor Loons, was sealed tight with a heavy cover 

 of ice. 



And it may be, if you should sail the seas this winter, 

 that you will see the two Olairs far, far out upon the 

 water. What made them leave the pleasures of Immer 



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