During another boring day at Moosehead pond- somewhere in the New England forest, Dax was helping his litter sister, Gwen, patch up the nest with their father, Mack, with moss and such, covering holes, preparing for the Winter. Going to take a break, Dax wiped his webbed feet in the water to wash off the moss until his mother, Pam, shouted out, “look! Another flock!” Pointing to a flock of different birds he hadn’t seen flying from the trees, all of them, each by each, landing gracefully into their pond.

While his parents were determining to go talk to the flock or not— Pam rather eager, and Mack whom was less.

Dax snuck away from his parents, swimming through the flock of birds.

Gwen clung onto him as she swam next to him, warning him quietly that they should go back to their parents, but he wasn’t interested.

“Hello!” “I like your feathers!” Dax says as he passes the birds of the flock who had just landed.

Gwen and him soon began to have a short squabble about going back to their parents. “Grrrh!” “Let go of me, you little feathery wart!—“ Dax said as he pushed Gwen off his tail, accidentally bumping into you.