"Perhaps they are," said his father. "Perhaps each bird is telling something to the bird he tags."
"What is he telling?" asked Peter.
"I think he is saying, 'Brother bird, don't you know that winter is coming? Soon the snow will be here. What shall we do then?
"'We cannot get food. We shall freeze. Come, let us fly away to the South. It is warm there.'"
"What does brother bird say?" asked Peter.
"I think brother bird says, 'It is a long way to the South. It will take many days and nights to fly there.
"'Are our children's wings yet strong enough? I do not like to go. But I know that we must.'"
"Doesn't he like to go, truly?" asked Peter.
"We do not know, Peter. The robins make their nests here. They lay their blue eggs here. They hatch their little birds here. They never do this in the South.