within reach. They were so hungry on many a day that they tried to
creep into a chipmunk’s hole and steal his store of food. However he
was smaller than they were, and he had wisely made one bend in his
tunnel too small for them to pass. Then they had to live on buds and
barks and seeds as best they could till spring started the tender green
plants to growing.
The squirrels gnawed the bark of the maple-trees and drank the sweet
sap that came oozing out. Later there were elm buds to nibble and
birds’ eggs to suck. The woods were once more green with juicy leaves.
All the squirrels went to housekeeping. Soon in almost every tree there
was a new family of wondering little squirrels peeping out of their
hollow with their round, bright eyes.
VIII
THE BEAR
“ONE THAT SLEEPS ALL WINTER”
ONE THAT SLEEPS ALL WINTER
OUT in the woods the snow fell deeper and deeper. It piled higher and
higher around the hollow tree in which the mother bear and her two
little bears were sleeping. The snow had drifted over the opening and
made it all dark inside.
Once in a while the two babies woke up and whimpered for more milk, as
they tumbled clumsily about on the bed of leaves. Then the old bear
opened her sleepy eyes and licked their glossy little black bodies
while she nursed them. After that they all fell drowsily quiet again,
and slept and slept.
So the weeks slipped away while the babies sucked milk, or slept,
snuggled close to their big, warm, furry mother. She had been sleeping
all winter. The autumn before she had crept into the hollow tree to
stay until spring. She did not eat a mouthful in all that time.
Now as the days grew warmer outside the old mother bear began to feel
more wide awake. One morning she pawed a hole through the snow at the
opening of the hollow and crawled out to find something to eat. The two
little bears had their eyes open at last. They lay still on the nest
and blinked at the light that shone dimly in through the hole.
Now and then they heard the soft plop of a bunch of snow dropping from
the evergreen trees in the woods. The bare branches of the aspens
clicked together in the March wind. They heard the gurgle of water
lapping over melting ice. The tap-tap-tap of a woodpecker on the bark
of their hollow tree sounded like thunder inside. Once a red squirrel
ran squeaking over the snow outside.
Before very long they heard footsteps thumping softly up to the hole,
and their mother’s big black body came scrambling in. The two cubs
whined for joy, and rubbed against her legs. They were hungry again,
and wanted their dinner. The thin old bear had not found much to eat
herself. It was too early in the year for berries, and the ants were
still in their underground homes. She had caught a frog in the brook,
and found a few blades of grass to munch.
After that she went out every day, for it seemed as if she grew
hungrier and hungrier. Once she found a frozen deer. After eating all
she could of it she covered the rest with leaves until the next day.
Sometimes she caught a chipmunk under a log. It was only in the early
spring that the old black bear ate much meat, for usually she liked
fruit and roots and nuts better.
Meanwhile the two little bears stayed safe in the den till their teeth
were cut and the claws grew sharp and strong. Then they played outside
for a little every day. They wrestled together and tumbled about in the
sunshine, like clumsy puppies. They were careful not to creep too far
away from the den. At any strange sound or smell away they scampered
head first into the hole, with their little wrinkled black feet kicking
out behind them.
At last they were strong enough to set out on their travels with the
old mother. Very likely she gave them each a good washing and combing
before they started. She could use her fore-paws like hands. When the
cubs squealed and tried to bite, while she was brushing them, she
slapped them with her big paw. She could use her paws for digging, and
for carrying food to her mouth. With the sharp claws she could tear
meat or logs to pieces.
The two little ones must have been delighted to think of leaving the
tiresome den in the hollow tree. Like all bears they loved to travel.
Down the valley they ambled, stepping clumsily on the flat soles of
their feet. Bears do not walk lightly on their toes, as do the graceful
animals who belong to the cat family.
The old mother moved on with her head held low, while the babies
waddled after her. They did not look around much at the wonderful
mountains, with the dark evergreens and rocks scattered over the yellow
gravel. They did not notice the blue sky above, for their close-set
eyes were rather nearsighted. Though they could not see very well they
sniffed keenly at every strange smell.
There were many new delicious smells of warm earth and green plants
and furry rabbits and squirrels and birds and strawberry blossoms. The
cubs imitated their mother in everything she did. They stepped in the
same foot-tracks, and jumped over the same logs at the same places.
Whenever she stopped to sniff they rose on their little hind-legs and
twitched their pointed brown noses in the air.
Once they came to a footprint in the gravel. It was a footprint of a
grizzly bear ever so much bigger than the old black bear. The cubs
looked at their mother to see how she was acting. Then they copied
her. They drew back their lips from their white teeth and growled baby
growls, while their little eyes gleamed, and the hairs on their backs
ruffled up stiffly. Grizzlies sometimes killed black bears.
Soon they reached the spruce grove where the red ants lived. Scattered
over the gravel there were rounded hills, with tiny red creatures
hurrying in and out of their holes, and around and to and fro. The
little bears looked at the ants and then watched their mother as she
sat down beside a hill and licked up a mouthful. After a minute down
they sat, and scraped their pointed tongues over the ant-hills.
The ants tasted as sour as vinegar, and made the young ones wrinkle
their noses just at first, because they were used to drinking sweet
milk. More than once a fierce little ant gave a nipping bite to the
red tongues that squirmed over the gravel. That made the babies squeal,
and rub their mouths with their paws. When some ants crawled up on
their fur the bears licked them off without getting any gravel mixed in.
As the morning sunshine grew warmer the cubs began to feel tired and
sleepy. It had been such an exciting day ever since starting out from
the old den at sunrise! The mother walked off to a shady spot under
thick evergreens, and they all curled down for a nap. The babies
snuggled close together, curling their paws and tucking their noses
into their fur. Closing their eyes, while their fat little sides heaved
in a long sigh of content, they fell fast asleep. Those ants had tasted
so good!
Very early every morning the two cubs set off with their mother to find
something to eat. In the heat of the day they took a nap. Late in the
afternoon they went out again and feasted till dark, or even later,
when berries were plenty. Sometimes they slept in a hollow log, or in a
cave, or in a sheltered thicket.
Before lying down the old bear was always careful to walk several
hundred yards in the same direction in which the wind was blowing. If
any enemy happened to follow their trail while they were asleep they
could smell him in the wind and get away in time. One night they really
did smell a wolf coming nearer and nearer. They stole off through the
woods. The old mother showed the cubs how to step softly, setting down
each big padded foot where it broke no stick and rustled no leaf.
The bears learned to eat all sorts of food. There were the delightfully
sour ants in their hills or hidden under rocks and old logs. The cubs
soon grew strong enough to turn over the rocks and logs for themselves.
Leaning on one fore-leg, each little fellow raised the stone with the
other fore-leg, and gave it a shove backward, so that it would not fall
on his toes. Away rolled the stone, and down went the greedy head to
lick up every ant in sight. Then a sweep of a paw uncovered the beetles
and worms and crickets that had run to hide deeper. Sometimes the old
mother gripped her claws in both sides of a rotten log and tore it
open. The little bears gobbled up the worms and insects inside as fast
as they could.
All the spring and early summer the three bears hunted for worms and
insects in this way. They dug up wild roots with their noses, just
as pigs do. One day the cubs smelled a delicious smell near a flat
stone. They hurried to push the stone away, and there they found a
heap of nuts. They stuffed their mouths full at once, while the little
chipmunk, to whom the nuts belonged, squeaked angrily at them from
under a heavy rock.
Later in the summer the berries were ripe. That was the time for little
bears to be happy! First the fragrant red strawberries grew red in the
fields. The berries were so small, and the hungry mouths were so large,
that many a bite was mixed with leaves and grass. However, the cubs did
not object to that, even when a fat white grub or two was pulled up
with the roots of the strawberry plants.
After the strawberries other berries ripened along the bank of the
river at the edge of the woods. The mother bear knew just where the
biggest ones grew. Many a happy day they spent picking the fruit.
When the weather was cloudy and cool they did not stop for naps. Each
one walked along from bush to bush, raising his head and wrapping his
tongue around a branch. Then with a downward pull he stripped off
leaves and berries and all, and munched and munched. They could stand
on their hind-feet to reach the higher branches.
The bears had broad grinding teeth in the sides of their jaws, and
so they could chew their food. Animals like the cat and the dog have
only cutting teeth. They tear their food into pieces small enough to
swallow, and then gulp it down without chewing.
At noon they went down to the river for a drink. First they snuffed
around carefully, and then lapped up the water. If the day was very
warm the cubs waded in and lay down to cool off. Sometimes the old
mother took her nap lying in the water. Once in a while they caught a
frog or a live fish by giving a jump and quick slap before it could
swim away.
In late summer the wild plums ripened in the woods. The old bear shook
the trees and sent the red fruit hailing down upon the scrambling
cubs. On one specially delightful day they found a hollow tree in which
bees had been storing honey for the winter.
They saw the bees buzzing around a hole high up on the trunk. One of
the cubs climbed up. Wrapping his hind-legs around the tree he held on
with one fore-paw, while with the other he dipped out the honey and
stuffed it into his mouth. All about him the air was gray with bees.
They stung him on his nose and ears and eyelids. He did not mind that
much, except when one bit his tongue. Then he thrust out his tongue and
mumbled and growled for a moment. He had never before eaten anything so
delicious as honey.
After the pleasant summer came the frosty autumn with its ripening
nuts. The cubs climbed trees and sat on the branches, with their black
legs dangling. The old bear shook the trees to bring down the nuts.
Once she shook so hard that one of the little bears lost his hold and
fell. He tumbled down in such a limp soft heap that he was not hurt at
all, but bounded up again like a rubber ball.
At another time the mother saw a big grizzly bear coming through the
woods. When the cubs heard her warning grunt they shot up the tree
like jumping-jacks, and hid in the thick leaves near the top. There
they were safe, for the grizzly was too heavy, and its claws were too
long, for climbing. Grizzly bears are the largest beasts of prey in
the world. Sometimes when very hungry they will eat their cousins, the
black bears.
The days kept growing colder little by little, and twilight came a few
minutes sooner every evening. The air was frosty at night, and somehow
the three bears felt drowsier and drowsier. Their naps lasted longer
every afternoon. On some cold days they curled up on dry ledges in the
sunshine and slept from morning to night. They were sleek and fat from
their feasts of acorns and nuts.
All this while the old mother bear was becoming more and more cross.
When the cubs tried to play with her she slapped them, and pushed them
away whimpering. It was time for them to take care of themselves. Very
likely she did not want to be bothered with them all winter long.
So one day the two little bears walked off by themselves. They roamed
through the woods, looking for some place which would be a warm den.
One of them dug a cosy hole under a big root and curled down for his
winter’s sleep. The other crept between two rocks that almost touched
over his head.
Outside the snow began to fall. It blew in through the cracks and
powdered down upon the little bear’s thick fur. Very soon it had
stuffed all the cracks and drifted higher over the rocks and logs. It
went whirling from the ledges into the valleys; it fell deeper and
deeper over the three dens and shut out the cold.
The little bears breathed more and more slowly, with their noses warm
in their furry fore-arms. Their little fat sides rose and fell ever so
faintly. Their hearts beat more softly. They were fast asleep for the
winter, while the snow fell and the icy winds blew on the mountains
without.
IX
THE FOX
“THE WISEST ONE”
THE WISEST ONE
ALMOST the first thing that the smallest baby fox remembered was being
carried in his mother’s mouth from one den to another. His woolly
little red body hung limp between her long white teeth. That was the
safest way; for if he had held stiff or wriggled she might have closed
her jaws tighter and pinched him.
It was very early in the morning, and the rising sun was just lighting
up the tops of the trees. The birds were singing their gayest May
songs. Here and there dewdrops sparkled, where the level sunbeams
glinted across the leaves. Under a bush a rabbit sat up very still, and
stared with round, frightened eyes at the mother fox.
The mother fox did not see the rabbit. She stepped along swiftly. Her
slender paws hardly rustled a leaf or snapped a twig. She looked like a
graceful red dog, with pointed ears and yellow eyes and beautiful plumy
tail. This plumy tail seemed to float out in the air behind her, as if
she were blowing lightly before the wind.
When she reached the new den she did not stop an instant at the front
door. The freshly dug earth was scattered around there in plain sight.
In digging this new burrow she and the father fox had left the dirt
there on purpose, to make their enemies think that this hole was the
real entrance to the den. A few feet underground they had closed the
tunnel with a heap of earth. At the other end they had made a new
opening hidden behind gray rocks in a thicket.
To this secret door the mother fox carried the baby, and set him down
on his four thick legs. He looked like a little red lamb with yellow
eyes. Into the hole he scrambled, and crept through the tunnel to the
dark den at the end. On the nest of leaves inside he found his four
brothers and sisters snuggling together. The old mother had carried
them there one by one.
The day before, when a big dog came nosing about the old den, the
father fox led him away through the woods. He could run the faster,
and so he kept on, with the dog chasing him, till the dog was tired
out. Then he and the mother hurried to dig this new den and move the
babies before the dog came back to the old place again.
In going from one den to the other the old foxes were careful not to
walk in a straight path. If they did that of course the dog could
follow them by smelling their trail. They took a roundabout path every
time. They trotted around a swampy meadow and crossed a brook by
stepping from stone to stone. The wet ground hid the scent of their
paws.
This journey to the new den was the first time that the young foxes had
been outdoors. As they were carried by the neck they could not twist
their heads around to see very much. But still, they must have enjoyed
the light and the fresh air. They did not want to keep on staying all
the time in the dark den. So early one morning they came scrambling out
after their mother.
The smallest baby fox crawled out last of all. For a moment he stood
very quiet on all four paws. Then he sat down and cocked his little
head on one side while he looked around. The old father was lying down
in the sunlight just outside the thicket. Two of the babies trotted
over to him and began to play with his tail. Two others climbed upon
the mother’s back and pushed each other off. There they wrestled,
rolling over and over in each other’s paws.
The smallest baby wanted to make the others pay him some attention. He
lifted his sharp little black nose and opened his mouth and began to
bark—bow-wow-wow, bow-wow-wow—till the others stopped playing. They
came running over to ask what was the matter. He told them something
in the fox language by rubbing his cool wet nose against theirs. Then
they all five trotted about and explored the thicket by smelling of
everything within reach.
They poked their noses into the grass and against the trees and bushes
and over every stick and stone and leaf on the ground. To their keen
nostrils everything had a different smell. When the smallest baby
smelled a stick he could tell which little brother or sister had been
smelling it just before him.
As the sun rose higher and the air grew warmer the little fellows sat
down and rested, with their tongues lolling out of their mouths. Like
all foxes and wolves and dogs they perspired through the tongue and the
soles of their feet. After a while the mother gave a low growl to say
that it was time to go back into the den. In they scampered head first,
and curled up for a nap, with their fluffy tails over their noses.
When the babies cut their teeth the mother stopped feeding them with
milk. After that she and the father fox were kept busy hunting for food
for the hungry young ones. Sometimes they hunted in the daytime as well
as at night. Oftener, however, the old mother stayed near the den to
keep guard when the little foxes came out to play every afternoon.
Such fun as the five little ones had together! They ran round and
round, chasing their tails. One hid behind a tuft of grass and jumped
out to scare the others. Another climbed upon a rock and then was
afraid to slide down. One went rolling down a small hill while another
capered beside him and pretended to snap at him.
Once the smallest baby saw a grasshopper whizz past. He saw where it
was hiding under a leaf. He crouched down as low as he could and crept
toward it. Without making a noise he crawled from bush to stone, from
stone to tuft of weeds, till he was near enough to spring and catch it
in his paws. All the others ran to see what he had caught. The mother
came, too, from the place where she had been watching him. She was
proud of him because he was learning to hunt while so young.
As evening came on and the shadows lengthened under the trees the
mother fox sent the babies into the den and walked away to hunt for a
supper. The smallest fox happened to be the last one in. He turned when
just inside and poked his pointed nose out to watch her as she trotted
away into the woods.
A few hours later, when they heard her low call at the mouth of the
burrow, out they came tumbling. Sometimes she had a rabbit hanging in
her mouth, with its long legs on one side and its long ears on the
other. Sometimes she had a young turkey thrown over her shoulders, or
a fringe of field-mice hanging by the tails from her lips. Once she
brought a wood-chuck, and at another time a string of little chickens
held by the necks.
The babies always ran and snatched for a piece. Then each trotted
off alone to eat it. When they were not hungry they played with the
food. They nibbled the bits, first tossing them into the air and then
springing to catch them. They could not use their fore-paws so freely
as animals like the cat. They growled and shook the mice to and fro in
their mouths. Sometimes they snatched from one another and snapped and
snarled crossly. Once the smallest fox had a fight. Every time he flew
at his brother the other whisked his bushy tail in front of his face,
and all the little one got was a mouthful of fur.
By and by the young foxes were taken out to learn to hunt for
themselves. There was ever so much to learn because every different
animal must be hunted in a different way. The main lesson was to keep
their eyes open and their ears alert and their noses keen for smelling.
They must be quick to jump and wise at all sorts of tricks.
They learned to catch chickens by hiding near the place where the flock
was feeding. When a chicken strayed near enough quick as a flash out
jumped the fox and caught it by the neck. They chased rabbits and
pounced on busy squirrels. They hunted meadow-mice in the grass, and
stole silently upon careless woodchucks.
The smallest baby caught a chipmunk in almost the same way as he had
caught the grasshopper. He saw the little brown animal feeding near its
hole. Very slowly and carefully the fox began to walk up to it. Every
few moments the chipmunk sat up and looked around. When he did this the
fox stood still, and so the chipmunk did not notice him. As soon as
the chipmunk dropped down on all four feet and began to nibble again,
the young hunter crept several steps closer. He held his tail pointing
out straight behind. At last, with a rush and a jump, the fox had the
chipmunk between his teeth.
All summer long there was plenty to eat in the woods. The five young
foxes grew as strong and tall as their parents. They left the old home
and scattered to dig new dens here and there in the woods and fields.
They all knew how to take care of themselves.
[Illustration: THE FOX.
“Now and then the fox stopped to listen.” _Page 131._]
Even as babies they had learned to hold still as a stone at any strange
sound. If they heard it again they ran to the den as fast as they could
scamper. More than once while they lay blinking comfortably in the
sunlight they saw the old father fox spring up with his ears pricked
forward and his eyes gleaming. With his tail erect, his fore-feet
planted in front, and his hind-feet on the spring, he listened to the
sound that had startled him. Perhaps it was the bark of a dog or the
scream of a blue jay over a newcomer in the woods. It was always safer
for grown foxes to run from an enemy than to try to fight, for they
were swift-footed creatures.
Once the smallest fox was really chased by a dog. The dog smelled his
trail near a flock of chickens. He ran on with his nose to the ground
till he saw the fox sitting under a tree with his tongue hanging out of
his mouth. At the sound of the bark the fox looked back. Then off and
away he ran lightly over the hills and through the fields. His fluffy
tail floated in the wind.
Now and then the fox stopped to listen to the baying of the dog far
behind him. Two or three times he whirled around, chasing his tail
and capering. He knew that he could run the faster. He picked his way
from stone to stone across a brook because he did not like to wet his
feet. Then he ran up a tree that had fallen in a slant. He jumped from
the end far over to a dead log and scampered across a rocky field. From
the top of a hill he looked back and watched the dog trying to find the
scent over the brook and around the slanting tree. When he was tired he
hid in a hole.
When autumn came the young foxes gathered on many a frosty night for a
romp before going to their hunting. They galloped to and fro, jumping
over one another and springing from log to log. It was almost the same
as if they were puppies again, frisking before the old burrow. They
wrestled and rolled and whirled around after their tails. Then away to
their silent hunting!
When the snow fell and the cold winds blew life was harder for the
foxes. Through the day generally they slept in their dens, with their
tails curled over their noses and fore-paws. Out they crept at sundown
to hunt for a rabbit or unwary squirrel, to trap a partridge, or
snatch a squeaking mouse at the edge of a stone.
Many a night some young fox went home hungry. Often he lay in the snow
hour after hour till his legs were stiff, while he waited for a rabbit
that stayed safe in its hole. More than once he made a dive into the
snow after a partridge, only to see the bird flutter up before his very
nose and fly into a tree. Very likely, as he sat looking hungrily up
to the branches, he wished that he could climb trees. Undoubtedly the
partridges and the squirrels did not wish any such thing.