"When we young ones had learned to fly pretty well, we started south.
After a few days we reached a land where there were broad marshes
covered with reeds. There we stopped for a while. But the men of that
country hunted us with their fire-sticks. They called us reed birds arid
liked us to eat. They shot many of our friends, but for a few days our
family all escaped. But one morning we heard a sound like thunder and
our mother fell to the ground and we saw her no more.

"This frightened us and we flew on to the southward for many days. Of
course wherever we found a good place, we stopped to rest and eat. But
we did not stop for long until we came to a land where there were great
fields of rice. There we found great flocks of our kindred, who had
grown fat by feeding upon the rice.

"But here again were men with their fire-sticks and they killed two of
my brothers. All the time we stayed there, we lived in fear. So after
some days we left the rice land and went on toward the south. We crossed
the great, salt sea and at last found the winter home of our kindred.

"In the spring we came back again to this meadow. And here I found Mrs.
Bob Lincoln. I courted her with my sweetest songs, and after a short
time we were married and set up house-keeping.

"That autumn I led a family of my own on the long journey to our
southern home. Three times have I made the journey to and from this
meadow, and each time some of my family have fallen a prey to our many
enemies. But the men with their fire-sticks are the worst of all. Why
are they so cruel to us?"