THE GRAY DAYS OF BIRDS 199 



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 irides- 

 cent 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 makeshift 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 in- 

 deed, and in fact all of our birds which undergo 

 a radical colour change will show remarkable com- 

 binations 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 



