They try their fluttering wings, and trust themselves in air.
But whether upward to the moon they go,
Or dream the winter out in caves below,
Or hawk at flies elsewhere, concerns us not to know.
Southwards you may be sure they bent their flight,
And harboured in a hollow rock at night.
—From John Dryden’s poem The Hind and The Panther
Somewhere in Central Asia, Mr and Mrs Demoiselle were worried. For, their little angel was venturing into the outside world for the first time. This was her first winter migration — to a world thousands of kilometres away. But she was confident; rather enthusiastic of her outing, which is a survival mantra for her species.
To read the rest of the story, head to Down To Earth’s sister site Young Environmentalist.