The important event upon which Leatherwing had been in such haste to
congratulate his friend, really took place in two days after the
conversation just related. In other words, the joys and cares of our
squirrels were increased by the presence of four young ones, as fine
healthy little creatures as their hearts could desire. And I am sure
that more attentive and affectionate parents than Brush and his
companion could not be found, even among the human race. For many days
they made a point of never leaving the nest at the same time, for fear
their tender family should suffer for want of their parents' warmth and
protection. And though Brush was naturally such a playful rattling
fellow, you might have observed some difference in his behaviour, since
he became the father of four helpless children. I mean, that he spent
less time in play, and seldom rambled to any great distance from the
oak-tree. So for a week or two our squirrels passed their time very
sedately and quietly, taking care of their children, and watching with
great delight their rapid growth from day to day.
One evening, just before bed-time, Brush was peering out at the
entrance of his hole, as he often did before he curled himself up for
the night, perhaps that he might see what sort of weather it was likely
to be the next day. Whatever his object might have been, he certainly
_was_ looking out of his hole on this particular evening; when, casting
his eyes down the valley, he perceived a small dark speck dancing about
in the air, and as it drew nearer, and became more distinct, he saw
that it was his friend Leatherwing, coming to enjoy his favourite sport
of gnat-catching, over the surface of the pond.
"I feel rather sleepy," said Brush, "but I have not seen the old fellow
for some time, and I _must_ tell him what has happened since he was
here last."
So he ran out to the end of a branch, and when the bat came within hail
he begged him to stop for a few minutes' chat.
Now, though Leatherwing was very hungry, and his game was abundant, yet
his love of a little gossip was so great, that it overcame his dislike
to the feeling of an empty stomach, and he was just going to alight on
the branch, by the side of his friend, when he suddenly called out in a
voice of extreme terror, "Back, friend Brush! Run back to your hole
directly! Back, you foolish fellow, or the cruel wild-cat will have
you!"
[Illustration: THE WILD-CAT. Page 99.]
Horrible! the monstrous wild-cat, the British tigress as she has been
called, was in the tree indeed! She was crouching down on a
neighbouring branch, between the squirrel and the nest, preparing
herself for the fearful spring, by that peculiar wriggling motion of
the hinder part of the body which you may often have observed in your
favourite kitten, when she is just going to dart at the plaything you
have kindly made for her amusement.
At first sight of the monster, the poor little squirrel was so
terrified that he had no power to move, for her great savage eyes were
fixed upon him, and sent forth a horrible greenish coloured light,
which seemed to have the effect of preventing any attempt at escape.
But he recovered himself at last, and it was well for him that he did
so; for hardly, by means of a tremendous spring, had he reached a
distant bough, when his fierce pursuer, who must have leaped at the
same instant, alighted on the very spot he had just quitted. And now
between these two animals, so unequally matched in strength and size,
you might have seen a most exciting and hardly contested race; the
squirrel doing his utmost to secure his safety, by reaching his hole,
and the wild-cat following with terrible eagerness, in hopes of
obtaining a most delicate and favourite morsel for her supper. Had they
both started fairly, I think that the fierce beast would have had no
chance of overtaking her prey; but, as I have mentioned, she was
between the squirrel and his fortress when the chase began, so that he
could not run at once to his only place of refuge.
Poor Brush! he was hardly pressed indeed, and several times, when he
found his retreat to his hole cut off, he gave himself up for lost.
He owed his safety at last, not to his wonderful agility alone, but
also to his _lightness_, which enabled him to pass over the smaller
branches that would have bent or broken with the weight of his enemy.
To keep you no longer in suspense, you must know, then, that the poor
breathless terrified squirrel reached his hole at last, and no sooner
was he safe within it, than an immense paw, furnished with terribly
sharp, hooked claws, was thrust in as far as it could reach, and Brush
could see the light of those horrid, yellow-green eyes, gleaming in
upon him through the narrow opening. He even fancied he could smell her
hot tainted breath, as she growled with rage and disappointment.
"Baulked, Mrs. Wild-cat! Exactly three seconds too late, Mrs. Tabby!
Yes, Madam, if you had reached the hole only three seconds earlier, you
would have made a very nice supper of poor Brush, and his nest would
that night have contained a sorrowful widow and four fatherless
children. A little too late, I am happy to say, Mrs. Tabby! Only a very
little too late, but 'a miss is as good as a mile,' as people say.
What! you are in a terrible rage now, are you? And you will growl, and
spit, and try to thrust your great ugly head into a hole only just
large enough for the slender body of Brush to pass easily through it.
There! you may do your worst, and when you have tired yourself, you may
go and look for a supper elsewhere, only I cannot possibly wish that
good luck may attend upon your hunting. One thing I _squirrels_ wish
though, that Harvey was under the tree just now with his gun. Well,
never mind! Your time will come, I dare say."
Yes, the squirrel had escaped from his terrible enemy for that time. He
and his family were safe as long as they remained in their castle, and
they had still sufficient food in their hoard to stand a pretty long
siege, though I cannot tell what they would have done for want of
water. But then how miserable it would be, to be kept close prisoners
for days, or even weeks; for how could they ever be certain that their
enemy was not still in the neighbourhood, or perhaps lying in wait for
them behind some branch of their own oak-tree? Truly a very pitiable
situation indeed!
It is wonderful how we become accustomed to dangers of all kinds, and
yet those who have often risked their lives in battle will tell you,
that this is really the case. In his first trial the young soldier will
perhaps be so terribly frightened that nothing but the certainty of
being disgraced prevents his running away. But after some years spent
amid dangers, the coward becomes by degrees a bold fellow, who can hear
bullets whistle around him, and see bright steel flash before his eyes,
if not with indifference, at least, with perfect coolness and
steadiness.
But what has all this about soldiers to do with the poor prisoners in
the oak tree? There does not appear to be much connexion between the
two subjects, certainly; but I was going to say that our _squirrels_
resembled _soldiers_ in one respect. I mean, that _they_ became rather
more courageous by being accustomed to live in continual danger. For
the first day or two after the chase, they were afraid to venture more
than a few yards from the nest; but they rambled further by degrees,
though, whenever they returned to the oak, they took care to stop in a
tree at a little distance, that they might see if the enemy was not
lying in ambush for them near the hole. In this manner many days
passed, and they were beginning to hope that the wild-cat had quite
left the neighbourhood, when they had a conversation with Leatherwing
about this dreadful animal.
It was really surprising what a vast deal of information this funny
little fellow had picked up; but, perhaps, as he said himself, his
having lived so much in towns and villages, where he could overhear the
conversation of Man, might partly account for his cleverness.
From him the squirrels learned that these terrible wild-cats were
formerly very common in the neighbouring forests,[7] but that for many
years they had been gradually diminishing in numbers, and it was now
almost certain that the fierce beast which had caused them so much
alarm, was the last of her race in that part of the country. Wild-cats
are always much larger than the tame animals, but this creature was one
of the largest that had ever been seen or heard of. She was really a
formidable beast, and since she had taken up her abode in the
neighbourhood, she had done a great deal of mischief to the farmers by
killing their poultry, and even their young lambs. She had often been
chased by the gamekeepers and others, but long experience had made her
so watchful and cunning, that she had always escaped with her life,
though she had sometimes smarted a little from a few shot penetrating
her skin. But her fur was so thick and close that small shot could not
injure her much, unless fired from a very short distance, and she took
care that her enemies should not approach too near.
[7] The wild-cat is now almost, if not quite extinct in England,
except in the northern parts. It is still, however, to be met
with in Scotland, Ireland, and Wales. But the numbers of these
animals that have been killed in different parts of the country
have no doubt been much over-rated, as it is well known that the
domestic cat will sometimes stray into the woods, bringing forth
its young there, living on birds and small quadrupeds, and
becoming a terrible destroyer of game. When, therefore, one of
these half-wild cats happens to resemble the true wild-cat in
colour, (which is an indistinct tabby,) it is at once pronounced
to be a specimen of that animal. But Mr. Bell, (who, however,
differs from almost all other naturalists on this point,)
considers that the native wild-cat of Britain is quite a distinct
species from the domestic cat, and that the latter does not owe
its origin to the wild animal at all, though from what country
the breed has been derived he is at a loss to determine.
Such dreadful tales did Leatherwing relate of the extraordinary cunning
and fierceness of this hideous animal! When he had finished, the
squirrels became so terrified that they ran and hid themselves in their
snug retreat, declaring to each other that they never should be happy
till they were sure that the monster had been killed. They were
particularly uneasy too about their young ones, who were now grown so
strong that they were able to leave the nest; but their parents never
allowed them to go out of their sight, or to ramble beyond the branches
of the oak.
One day Brush said to his partner, "Well, this is miserable work! I
declare I have no peace night or day, but am always thinking or
dreaming about this horrid wild-cat; I almost wish I had never been
born, or at least, that I had been a water-rat, or, better still, that
curious fellow called a mole, that Leatherwing talked to me about
once."
"And where does this mole live?" said Mrs. Brush.
"Why, he spends almost all his life under the ground, and though it
must be very dark and damp there, he is at least safe from being eaten
up by wild beasts. He makes famous long caverns, branching out from
each other and in one place he has a very comfortable nest, lined with
dry grass and leaves, and among the roots of some tree he makes what
Leatherwing called his fortress, because he always goes there when he
is frightened. And all these nice places are safe under the ground. Oh!
I really wish I was a mole! The wild-cat might come as soon as she
pleased, then."
"I think she would scratch the earth up with her great claws, and pull
you out of your fortress, as you call it."
"How could she? Why there are I don't know how many caverns, all
leading from the fortress, and I could easily escape by one or other of
them. Then I could dig through the earth a great deal faster than she
could, if I were a mole; for Leatherwing says, that his fore-feet are
amazingly large and strong. Oh! ten times stronger than mine! Then he
never goes to sleep much more in the winter than in the summer, for
when the ground is frozen hard, all he has to do is to dig down a
little deeper, till he finds the earth soft; so he never cares what
sort of weather it is, and he has no need to trouble himself about
laying up a store of provisions for the winter. Oh! it must be very
nice to be a mole!"
"I should be afraid that my eyes would be filled with dust and dirt,
when I was digging under the ground."
"_Your_ great staring eyes would, I dare say, but the mole's are very
different. They are so small, and covered over with fur, that he is
sometimes thought to be quite blind.[8] For, as Leatherwing says,
people _are_ so stupid and ignorant! But I believe the mole's little
eyes are not often of much use to him, for he seldom comes out of his
caverns, and when he does it is at night. I think he would be much
wiser to keep _always_ under ground, and then he would be quite safe. I
asked old Leatherwing how the mole could find out his food, as he
always lives in the dark, and he said that his nose is more useful to
him than his eyes, for he can smell anything at a great distance."
[8] That acute observer, Aristotle, has been accused of
inaccuracy, in saying, that the mole is absolutely blind. It
has, however, been ascertained that in the South of Europe there
exists another species of mole, the eyelids of which are _totally
closed_, and it was probably this animal that fell under the
observation of Aristotle. The mole has never been found in any
part of Ireland.
"And what can he find to eat under ground, I should like to know?"
"Horrible! I forgot all about that when I wished to be a mole. His
food, I can hardly bear even to talk about it! He lives almost entirely
on _worms_! Horrid, long, twining worms! Oh! I had rather be hunted by
the wild-cat every day, than eat such disgusting food as that. No, no,
I don't wish to change places with the mole now, I am sure."
So as Brush had neither the inclination nor the power to be transformed
into a worm-devourer, he was obliged to be content with his situation
as a _nut-cracker_.