far, far out on a great prairie there is a wide river which flows lazily between its banks, apparently going nowhere at all, but in reality bearing steadily toward the rising sun and the deep valley where another river rolls mightily to the southward and the ocean. the prairie is not level like a floor, but rises and falls in ridges that are sometimes miles apart, and between these rolling heights of the grassy land are unnumbered little lakes: bodies of sparkling water hidden in the folds of the land.
it was over this vast stretch of plains that the great birds of the arctic were winging their way one early morning in the late summer, for they had started to their winter quarters in good season.
"honk, honk!" the leader of the birds kept calling; and as he trumpeted, those in the rear would answer him, for even as they flew they had much to talk of, and just now the whole flock of them were discussing the subject of breakfast.
for they had been flying ever since the peep of dawn, and had come through mists and the cold upper air, covering a hundred miles of their journey before the sun really bathed the plains in light, and they were looking for the spot which was familiar to them as a good one for breakfast.
lower and lower they flew as the leader kept signaling to them, until at last the wedge-shaped formation in which they traveled came like a pointed kite in long, sliding descents to within a few hundred feet of the earth.
they could see, of course, all the lay of the land for many miles around; but they were particular geese, a trifle fussy as you might say, and by no means would any one of the many little lakes suit their fancy. they were flying toward one spot out of all others which could afford just what they wanted for a meal.
at last they apparently settled down to a definite direction for they ceased to describe the slanting circles, and in one long slide through the air, their wings stretched perfectly motionless, they coasted to the ground.
the deep grasses almost hid them from view, but the little people who lived there saw them, and it was with great surprise that their friends turned from their feeding and pluming and bathing to exclaim over this sudden arrival.
there were mr. and mrs. wild duck, and their beautiful brood of little ones, and there were many of mrs. prairie chicken's family, as well as crowds and crowds of little redbirds and many of the handsome kingfishers, all chattering at once over an ample breakfast table. for there was a solid growth of wild celery around this lake, a bed of plants so dense that it was for all the world like the heaviest moss. and of all things beloved by the wild fowl, this juicy and spicy celery is the favorite.
the leader of the newcomers looked about him. that was the first thing for him to do, under all circumstances; for he was the oldest and the wisest of the flock and as a watchman he was sagacious beyond all others in his family. while his mate and all the others fell to tearing at the tender shoots of celery, scarcely paying attention to anything but their voracious appetites, he was standing with head erect and eyes turning in all directions to be sure of no untoward sign. he could see and even scent danger a long way off.
apparently he was satisfied for the moment, for he fell to and nibbled as the rest were doing, with his head almost buried in the rich tangle of celery. and as he progressed in his feasting, he came closer and closer to the edge of the lake, until suddenly he was just above a nest that lay almost entirely hidden from view.
it was the home of little mrs. grebe, the very handsomest and the shyest of the people dwelling here. she was right there by her nest of sticks, which literally floated on the water, and her shining neck of velvety feathers and her brown and silvery body were strikingly beautiful in contrast to the deep green of the rushes and reeds.
"why, my dear friend!" the noble wild goose exclaimed. "how you surprised me! though of course i knew you lived here. this is not the first year we have visited this place, by any means, and yet, when we flew north last spring and stopped here i do not remember seeing you."
"oh, mr. goose," came in quick reply, "you can't imagine the misfortunes that have overtaken me; and it was on their account that i was not here in the early summer when you passed over."
with that mrs. grebe hung her dainty head, which was beautifully tufted about the ears, giving her the look of wearing a jaunty cap.
"i am the widow grebe," was all she could say.
mr. goose dried his eyes by rubbing them on his snowy breast. for, although he was a stern old gander, he had the most melting heart for the sad plight of widows and orphans.
and the fatherless ones were immediately discovered to view, for mrs. grebe moved ever so slightly and six tiny little grebes twittered and chirped at her feet.
the sight was very moving, and the doughty old warrior commanded himself sufficiently to ask the particulars.
"yes," the dainty little lady grebe said. "we were a devoted pair, my husband and i. you know the grebes, how they are like to die of broken heart if one or the other is killed. they're like the cooing dove, you know, very devoted. but my dear, beautiful mate was shot before my very eyes. yes, the bullet was meant for me, because it is the mother grebe's beautiful breast feathers that they are after. but it was he who was killed. we both dived, but when i came up from under the water after going as far as i could, i looked in vain for him. men in a boat were reaching out for something, and it was my own mate they were lifting up from the water. when they saw it was not the mother bird, they threw his body back into the lake. after a while it sank and i knew that it was all hopeless."
mr. goose knew not what to say. but before he could even begin to express his feelings, the gentle grebe added to her account of woes the fact that her first brood of the season had all perished, too.
"these little fellows are but just hatched," she went on. "they will never know their dear father; but what happened to the first brood of the season is the worst. we were, as you know, far south of here. another lake where we go for the winter. no one knew that in that lake dwelt the worst of snapping turtles. but such was the fact. in one month our brood of dear little chicks was, every one of them, seized while swimming and dragged under by the great turtles!"
then, like so many people who have suffered as much, mrs. grebe began to apologize for telling her woes.
"it is only because you are so very traveled and wise, mr. goose, that i tell you all my afflictions. nothing, of course, can amend the loss of my dear mate. but how i am to protect my children from all my enemies i cannot say. i am sorely troubled."
mr. goose all this time had only pretended to eat, for he was too much interested and too deeply concerned to do aught but attend to mrs. grebe's sad plight.
he thought for a long moment, and then said that he would give her two pieces of advice, but that she must wait a few moments until he had thought over his many observations and experiences.
"true," he said, "i have seen many ways of caring for children. and you are without assistance. now my nest is built in almost inaccessible places, and mrs. goose has few enemies in the water to fear. our chicks are too large to be pulled under the water by turtles, and our nest is too well defended by the sentry goose for us to fear the fox or the wolf. but you, poor mrs. grebe, you are indeed sorely put to it. you must do two things. first, i am sure, you must build farther out from the shore; and, second, you must take your children with you on your back when they first venture over the pond.
"and," he added slyly enough, "don't grieve too long. perhaps you will fall in love again."
just then, however, he seemed to be suddenly mindful of his own family. for a distant shot was heard in the air. everybody stopped eating, and listened, but nothing more was to be heard. the hunters were far off, although their presence anywhere within hearing was full of alarm.
"remember what i say," the splendid traveler called back, for he was marshaling his flock.
mrs. grebe could scarcely comprehend what was going on, for it seemed but a second before all the beautiful geese were in the air again, flying low over the plain. they would elude the hunters. that she knew. but she wished the wise captain of them all could have stayed just a little longer to explain what he meant. how could she carry her young ones with her? and how build on the water?
but it is long practise that works out in perfection; and mrs. grebe was soon able to teach her babies to climb on her back and to perch there with their beaks buried in her soft feathers, and their little toes digging ahold of her. and she began pushing her nest farther and farther out into the water until it seemed scarcely to have any connection with the land at all. alone, and fearing to leave her nest unguarded, to this day she covers it with sticks and straw, and when she turns the eggs over that she is hatching, she smears them with mud until they are very hard indeed to find. for she is the most suspicious of birds.
but if she was indebted to mr. wild goose for his advice, he, on his part, felt that he had only drawn on his learning as a great traveler. had he not seen the tropic swans with their young riding upon their shoulders? and he knew what it was for. so he was only a generous and observant bird when he made the suggestion.
later that season, however, when a great prairie fire swept the region and burned everything to the very edges of the lakes, mrs. grebe was thankful indeed that she could carry her babies with her to the center of the lake, and there ride in safety with them while the reeds and the grasses blazed on the margin.
and of this she told mr. goose the year after, when he came back. he had helped better than he knew. but of her second marriage she said very little, and he did not embarrass her with questions.
oh, yes, there is much that the great wild goose knows and he is not too proud to draw upon his wisdom when it is a matter of helping even such little stay-at-home people as mrs. grebe.
