"Well," said Speedy, "that would be possible. But, of course, we could only do it during certain months of the year when we were in Africa. And then we could only take letters to the mild and warm countries. We should get frozen if we had to carry mail where severe winters were going on."
"Oh, of course," said the Doctor. "I wouldn't expect you to do that. But I had thought we might get the other birds to help—cold-climate birds, hot-climate ones and temperate. And if some of the trips were too far or disagreeable for one kind of birds to make, we could deliver the mail in relays. I mean, for instance, a letter going from here to the North Pole could be carried by the swallows as far as the north end of Africa. From there it would be taken by thrushes up to the top of Scotland. There seagulls would take it from the thrushes and carry it as far as Greenland. And from there penguins would take it to the North Pole. What do you think?"
"I think it might be all right," said Speedy, "if we can get the other birds to go in with us on the idea."
"Well, you see," said John Dolittle, "I think we might, because we could use the mail service for the birds themselves, and the animals, too, to send their letters by, as well as the Fantippans."
"But, Doctor, birds and animals don't send letters," said Speedy.
"No," said the Doctor. "But there's no reason why they shouldn't begin. Neither did people write nor send letters once upon a time. But as soon as they began they found it very useful and convenient. So would the birds and animals. We could have the head office here in this beautiful island—in this Animals' Paradise. You see, my idea is, firstly, a post office system for the education and betterment of the Animal Kingdom, and, secondly, a good foreign mail for the Fantippans. Do you think we could ever find some way by which birds could write letters?"
"Oh, yes, I think so," said Speedy. "We swallows, for instance, always leave marks on houses where we have nested which are messages for those who may come after us. Look"—Speedy scratched some crosses and signs in the sand at the Doctor's feet—"that means 'Don't build your nest in this house. They have a cat here!' And this"—the Skimmer made four more signs in the sand—"this means 'Good house. Flies plentiful. Folks quiet. Building mud can be found behind the stable.'"
"Splendid," cried the Doctor. "It's a kind of short-hand. You say a whole sentence in four signs."
"And, then," Speedy went on, "nearly all other kinds of birds have a sign language of their own. For example, the kingfishers have a way of marking the trees along the river to show where good fishing is to be found. And thrushes have signs, too; one I've often seen on stones, which means 'Crack your snail shells here.' That's so the thrushes won't go throwing their snail shells all over the place and scare the live snails into keeping out of sight."
"There you are," said the Doctor. "I always thought you birds had at least the beginnings of a written language—otherwise you couldn't be so clever. Now all we have to do is to build up on these signs a regular and proper system of bird-writing. And I have no doubt whatever that with the animals we can do the same thing. Then we'll get the Swallow Mail going and we'll have animals and birds writing letters to one another all over the world—and to people, too, if they want to."