When Mrs. Quack told of her twelve children and how she didn't know where one of them was, Peter Rabbit and Jerry Muskrat knew just how badly she was feeling, and they turned their heads away and pretended that they didn't see her tears. In a few minutes she bravely went on with her story. “When Jack Frost came and we knew it was time to begin the long journey, Mr. Quack and myself and our twelve children joined with some other Duck families, and with Mr. Quack in the lead, we started for our winter home, which really isn't a home but just a place to stay. For a while we had nothing much to fear. We would fly by day and at night rest in some quiet lake or pond or on some river, with the Great Woods all about us or sometimes great marshes. Perhaps you don't know what marshes are. If the Green Meadows here had little streams of water running every which way through them, and the ground was all soft and muddy and full of water, and the grass grew tall, they would be marshes.” Jerry Muskrat's eyes sparkled. “I would like a place like that!” he exclaimed. “You certainly would,” replied Mrs. Quack. “We always find lots of your relatives in such places.” “Marshes must be something like swamps,” ventured Peter Rabbit, who had been thinking the matter over. “Very much the same, only with grass and rushes in place of trees and bushes,” replied Mrs. Quack. “There is plenty to eat and the loveliest hiding-places. In some of these we stayed days at a time. In fact, we stayed until Jack Frost came to drive us out. Then as we flew, we began to see the homes of these terrible two-legged creatures called men, and from that time on we never knew a minute of peace, excepting when we were flying high in the air or far out over the water. If we could have just kept flying all the time or never had to go near the shore, we would have been all right. But we had to eat.” “Of course,” said Peter. “Everybody has to eat.” “And we had to rest,” said Mrs. Quack. “Certainly,” said Peter. “Everybody has to do that.”