THE DISCONTENTED SQUIRREL 65 
feathered neighbours what it was all about, they 
were surprised at his innocence, and answered that 
it was about migration. And what was migration? 
A funny question to put to a bird! However, 
they condescended to inform their ignorant young 
friend that migration meant going away from the 
country in order to escape the winter. For now 
winter was coming, that sad season of leafless trees 
and of short, dark days; of wet and wind and 
bitter, bitter cold, when lakes and streams would 
be frozen over, and the earth buried in white, 
awful snow. 
And where would they go to escape these awful 
changes? 
They would go to a land where there was no 
winter; where the trees were green all the year 
round, with flowers always blooming, and fruit and 
nuts always ripening. 
“Oh beautiful land! oh happy birds!” thought 
the squirrel. ‘But where is that desirable coun- 
try?” he asked. 
“Over that way,” replied the birds, pointing to 
the south, just as if it were a place quite near. 
“Tt was,” they added, “beyond the ridge of blue 
hills one could see on that side.” 
These tidings threw the squirrel into a great 
state of excitement, and he spent his whole time 
running after and questioning every bird he knew. 
“When,” he asked, “ would the migration begin?” 
They laughed at the question, and said it had 
begun some time ago, and was going on at the 
