TINY FOLK AND THEIR TROUBLES
ONE thing that always interested the little bear was the robin who used
to bring her fat fledglings, nearly as big as herself, to the Ranger’s
lawn.
She had made her big clay nest on a beam of the porch, where the young
birds would be sheltered from wind and rain. The young robins would
flop to the ground, when she urged them, then hop around after Mrs.
Red-breast as she pulled grubs and worms from the ground for them. They
soon learned to look for the crumbs the children threw them. Fuzzy
would watch, and sometimes make a playful dash at them; but at such
times they would suddenly find they could fly out of reach.
Another time a humming-bird flew in through the open window and began
sipping nectar from the bunch of wild flowers the children had brought
for the dining-table. Tiniest of birds, he made as much noise as any
airplane that size could have made. The children held as still as mice
while they watched.
One day Fuzzy was put on his leash just as some one left a bunch of
grapes on the porch rail, for the Ranger had ridden down to the valley
settlement for supplies the day before, and brought home a basket of
the luscious fruit. My, how he wanted those grapes! But he could not
reach them. There was nothing left to do but to watch the young robins
flying, for their tails had grown longer, and so they could keep their
balance better in the air.
When he looked back at the grapes again, an orange-breasted oriole was
plunging his beak thirstily into a grape. He only ate one this time,
and flew away. But soon he was back again, eating another grape. Fuzzy
watched anxiously. Again the oriole came, and the little bear watched
the grapes disappear, one by one. When the children finally let him
off his leash, there was nothing left of those grapes but the stems.
Never mind, there were lizards and field mice all about the place. This
afternoon, while the reddening sun still shone warm on the bowlders,
the tiny gray lizards with beady eyes on the alert for flies darted
hither and thither among the gray rocks. The instant they saw Fuzzy
watching, they would freeze motionless, or rise on their crooked legs
till their orange breasts showed, watch him till he came too near, then
race into a crack between two stones.
Fuzzy spent much time chasing field mice, or digging them out of their
tunnels. One night the family was just sitting down to supper when a
clawing at the door announced that Fuzzy wanted to come in. Coming
proudly straight to the little girl, Fuzzy laid his catch in her lap.
It was a fat field mouse!
The young mouse had not been hurt by Fuzzy’s jaws, and the instant he
found himself free, he leaped to the table and raced across it and
away, and not even Fuzzy could find him after that. But the next
morning he was sitting trembling in the mouse trap in the pantry, which
was one of these round wire affairs that has a hole on top that lets a
mouse get in, but won’t let him out.
How he trembled when the little girl found him. Fuzzy watched to see if
the prisoner would be given to him to dispose of. But no, the little
girl took the trap out into the woods and there opened the door and let
the mouse find a hiding-place in the woods where he belonged.