On the evening of the winter’s heaviest storm, the birds had all gathered under an evergreen to sleep. Among them were Flicker and Kingfisher, for they, much to Thrasher’s delight, had been driven from their homes on the day before by those improvident fellows, Squirrel and Muskrat, who thus obtained houses far better than any they could have built for themselves. The wind was whistling frightfully, and each one had his head tucked under his wing for warmth. Suddenly Bobolink stood upright and peered out anxiously into the darkness. His keen ear had caught some other sound than the harsh wind and spluttering snow. In an instant Bobolink was alert. Then he saw something that, even cold as he was, made him shiver. Before him, gliding on noiseless wing, was a gigantic white object. Its large yellow eyes gleamed terribly in the dark, and Bobolink was all but paralyzed with fear. Then, in desperation, he called out loud enough to wake his neighbors. They, too, saw the dim white form and scattered like leaves before the wind, just as the huge monster swooped down among them. Barn-swallow, in his haste to get away, caught his tail on a twig and made a great tear right in the middle of it. So badly was it torn that the feathers have never grown in properly, as we can see even to this day. But he was too frightened then even to know it. For hours afterwards the terrified birds hid as best they might in the dark woods. Then, when at length, he thought the danger past, Bobolink gave a chirp, as if to let his whereabouts be known. After a time the other folks answered his call, and in this way they soon collected, every one of them still trembling with fear. Then, although it was midnight, they prepared to flee. So dark was it that there would have been great danger of getting lost had not Bobolink suggested that they keep up chirping as they flew, and in this way be able to hold together. In such a manner and at such a time the birds made their first journey south. When once they reached the warmer lands they scattered, for they had learned that to remain in flocks was dangerous. But what was more important, they had learned that they could migrate at night, and that it was the safest way, as then they could not be seen by their enemies. Hear them chirp as they fly overhead some night in the spring or fall. That was Bobolink’s idea, and it was a good one, too. It keeps them from separating in the darkness. None of the Woodfolk ever learned who the white stranger was. Some thought him a ghost or spirit, but all of them fear even the thought of him. No wonder they have never since dared to stay north during the winter. Of course, the larger ones, like Hawk or Crow, do not always leave, for they are not afraid of the stranger. But all of those who first saw him on that dreadful night have always migrated. Indeed, poor Bobolink is still so fearful of the “white spirit” that he never feels safe until he has flown all the way to South America.