214 Gray Days of Birds [FIRST WEEK 



blood-filled quills force out the old feathers, and the bird 

 becomes a thing of the water, to swim and to dive, with 

 no more power of flight than its pond companions, the 

 turtles. 



If, however, the drake should retain his iridescent head 

 and snowy collar, some sharp-eyed danger would spy out 

 his helplessness and death would swoop upon him. So 

 for a time his bright feathers fall out and a quick make- 

 shift disguise closes over him the reed-hued browns and 

 grays of his mate and for a time the pair are hardly 

 distinguishable. With the return of his power of flight 

 comes renewed brightness, and the wild drake emerges 

 from his seclusion on strong-feathered, whistling wings. 

 All this we should miss, did we not seek him out at this 

 season; otherwise the few weeks would pass and we should 

 notice no change from summer to winter plumage, and 

 attribute his temporary absence to a whim of wandering 

 on distant feeding grounds. 



Another glance at our goldfinch shows a curious sight. 

 Mottled with spots and streaks, yellow alternating with 

 greenish, he is an anomaly indeed, and in fact all of our 

 birds which undergo a radical colour change will show 

 remarkable combinations during the actual process. 



It is during the gray days that the secret to a great 

 problem may be looked for the why of migration. 



A young duck of the year, whose wings are at last strong 

 and fit, waves them in ecstasy, vibrating from side to side 

 and end to end of his natal pond. Then one day we follow 

 his upward glances to where a thin, black arrow is throb- 

 bing southward, so high in the blue sky that the individual 



