I think this is a universal question that most have thought about at one time or another.  I suppose most people hope they are someplace dry.  Not just under a branch, or in an English laurel bush.  My inner child’s imagination sees birds behind little doors with candle size fires keeping warm.  My rational self-knows that is complete hog wash, but it is what I hope.  I’m going to use this as an ice breaker with folks and to needle my friends with and see what they say.  Found a children’s book on Amazon about this Where Do All the Birds Go When It Rains? It just seems a very fundamental question that is answered like a child, “They go hide in their nests.” But that’s not true, did my parents or grandparents tell me that, or did I deduce it?

<Google returned a bunch of interesting discussions on this, but I want to know the folks around me better>

BABE or BABY, n. A misshapen creature of no particular age, sex, or condition, chiefly remarkable for the violence of the sympathies and antipathies it excites in others, itself without sentiment or emotion. There have been famous babes; for example, little Moses, from whose adventure in the bulrushes the Egyptian hierophants of seven centuries before doubtless derived their idle tale of the child Osiris being preserved on a floating lotus leaf.

Ere babes were invented
The girls were contended.
Now man is tormented
Until to buy babes he has squandered
His money. And so I have pondered
This thing, and thought may be
‘T were better that Baby
The First had been eagled or condored.
—Ro Amil