For dinner Good Bird has only dried meat and the sweet, juicy berries. But she does not think of wishing for more.
At last the ripe fruit is gathered. The baby is fretting, and the mother takes the cradle from the tree top. She unlaces the bag and lays the little one on the warm grass.
Now the fruit must be packed and tied and the large skin be rolled up. While the mother works the child grows restless and cries. You can never guess why. She is asking in baby language to be put back on her stiff board!
Very soon Good Bird is ready and, with the cradle and bags strapped to her back, she starts for home. Other berry pickers loaded with fruit join her, and together they walk the trail that leads back to the camp.
Nokomis is watching for the baby. She lifts the cradle and hangs it to the lodge pole. The little one is restless. She turns her head from side to side, her black eyes shining.
Then the grandmother sings the owl song in which Indian babies delight:
"Ah wa nain, ah wa nain,
Who is this, who is this,
Giving light, light bringing
To the roof of my lodge?"
The singer changes her voice to imitate a little screech owl and answers:
"It is I—the little owl—
Coming
Down! down! down!"