WITH THE RANGER’S CHILDREN
FUZZY-WUZZ made a big mistake when he tried to grab that owl. For no
sooner had he got a taste of the feathers than Clickety-Clack was after
him with beak and claws. When they finally called it off, the hearth
rug bore a souvenir of both fur and feathers.
After that the little bear made many a playful, puppy-like dash at his
fellow pet, but if ever he came too near, he got as good as he gave. It
was tit for tat between them.
True, there were other ways in which Fuzzy managed to have a good
time. For instance, he was always on the look-out for a romp in the
children’s bed, if he was the first one up of a morning. The children’s
mother objected, until the Ranger suggested a tubbing for the young
bear.
This surprising thing,--a tub bath,--happened when Fuzzy-Wuzz had
been a member of the Ranger’s family for about a week. No sooner did
he find himself in the washtubful of warm, soapy water than he struck
out vigorously for shore and scrambled over the edge of the tub. This
process was repeated till the Ranger took a hand.
In the end Fuzzy-Wuzz emerged as clean a cub as any one could wish, but
he stayed clean just until he was put on his leash and allowed to have
a run outside. The California dry season had begun, with its dust, and
the roly-poly rascal liked nothing better than to roll on his back.
The great trouble with the Ranger’s backyard, from Fuzzy’s point of
view, was that there were no trees to climb. The clothes pole only went
so far, and it had no bark and was dreadfully hard to get one’s claws
into; but Fuzzy used to scramble up and down that clothes pole for all
he was worth, pausing each time at the top to sit looking down at the
children.
As the weeks flew by and the little bear grew stronger, he longed more
and more for the freedom to climb and romp and race the way Mother
Nature meant him to. It got to be mighty tiresome to live on the end
of a chain or be cooped up in the cabin. He would gaze into the green
woods behind the house, and whimper and beg to be let out, but it
seemed as if no one understood.
The Ranger was afraid if he let the cub go some big animal would
get him. There were great yellow cougars (California lions) in the
mountains, and perhaps timber wolves. Besides, even a wildcat could
have made way with such a tiny cub, and no telling but that even a pair
of coyotes (slinking yellow wild dogs that they are) might harm him.
These animals were all afraid to come too near the cabin, for they were
cowardly where human beings were concerned. But once let Fuzzy-Wuzz
spend a night in the woods and no telling if he would ever see the
morning.
Sometimes they could hear the coyotes’ bark, or the lion’s cry. Then
Fuzzy’s fur would rise along his spine, and he would huddle closer to
the children on the hearth rug. But he never thought of that when the
sun shone through the forest and he longed for freedom.