During the long summer days little Luke went often to visit the Bob
Lincolns. The more he watched them, the more he grew to love them. Bob
Lincoln himself was the merriest, jolliest fellow of all the little
boy's feathered friends.

Little Luke saw the baby birds as soon as they had broken their shells.
He watched the anxious parents feed them. And how those young Bob
Lincolns could eat! How their busy parents had to work to support the
little family! Back and forth over the meadow the old birds flew hour
after hour, searching for food for their hungry babies. And they were
always hungry! Whenever they heard anyone coming, they would close their
eyes, stretch their long necks, and open wide their yellow mouths.

The young birds grew larger and hungrier every day. And every day Bob
Lincoln became busier and quieter. Little Luke noticed that the jolly
little fellow did not sing so much and that his gay coat was becoming
rusty. One by one his bright feathers fell out and dull brown or yellow
ones took their place, until at last he looked just like his little
wife.

"Well, little boy," said Bob Lincoln one morning, "we must be getting
ready to move. These youngsters can fly pretty well, and it is time for
us to go. I am sorry, for I love our meadow home, and a long and
dangerous journey is before us."

"Tell me about it," said little Luke.

"Well," said Bob Lincoln, "you must know that I was hatched in this very
meadow. There were five of us and I am the only one that is left.