GOOD HUNTING
Farmer Slown owned six chickens. One of them was a white pullet which,
having not yet made a nest, spent much time in going about hunting a
good place and in telling the others about her difficulties. The morning
after the skunk family took up residence under the barn she was still
wandering around cackling and complaining.
"Cawk cawk cawk caw-w-w-w-k," she muttered as she strolled around the
corner of the barn. Striped Coat, lying as usual on his back, turned
over quickly and looked about. "Cawk cawk cawk caw-w-w-w-k," again
muttered the pullet. The little skunk slipped away from the others and
peeped out of the hole at the strange white bird strolling about so
close to him.
He was fascinated. Often he had seen and eaten crows, but here was a
white one which his little nose told him would be especially good
eating. Whenever the pullet passed the hole, he moved to the side where
he could get the best view, but peeped so timidly that she did not see
him.
Suddenly she got the idea that in some litter under the edge of the
barn, would be a good place for her nest. She looked about, scratched
around a little and then settled down to form the nest around her in a
comfortable fit. Striped Coat never took his eyes off this white "crow,"
and when with a joyful cackle the pullet sprang up and raced to the
other fowls to announce that she had laid an egg, Striped Coat's
excitement knew no bounds. Forgetting all natural caution he galloped
out to have a look at the nest.
Sure enough, the white crow had forgotten something when she left so
hurriedly. He pounced on the egg, tried to kill it and finding it a very
strange hard object, sat down in the nest to study out how it could be
eaten. But the egg was too large for his small mouth and he was still
rolling it about when the mother came out to see what he was up to.
With one bite she took the shell off one end, then sucked the contents.
Striped Coat, the discoverer, hustled around her eagerly, but got only
the drippings and what was left on the edges of the shell. Nevertheless
the mother's respect for him increased. He was, in her mind, already a
successful hunter. So when that night she came out for her own regular
hunt she let Striped Coat come too.
It was dark and damp, just the weather beloved by the night prowlers.
The smell of the flowering shrubs and of countless things in the woods,
lay heavy in the air. The little skunk, trailing after his mother's
guiding white stripes, picked his way as fast as he could behind her,
but without missing a look at anything especially interesting along the
way. When she stopped to sniff at a mouse burrow or to dig under a stump
for a sleeping lizard, or to examine an ant nest for young ones and
eggs, he was always where he would miss nothing of the fun.
He tried this once too often however, for the mother finally discovered
the underground nest of a swarm of yellow jackets and began to dig it up
in spite of the great consternation of the inhabitants. They tumbled out
in masses and stung everything in sight including Striped Coat whose
hair was not yet long enough to protect him all over his body. He rushed
about and rolled but was so fat that the stinging could not hurt him
badly.
Although the yellow jackets had not yet made a very big nest, what paper
combs there were seemed almost choked with the amount of young brood
they carried--tasty morsels for an insect loving animal like a wood
pussy, and well worth a little digging and an occasional sting where the
full grown little fighters were able to get under the fur.
After that feast the mother seemed content to let Striped Coat do a
little hunting for himself while she moved about slowly, occasionally
finding a berry, or an unwary beetle on the surface of the ground. And
Striped Coat made good use of his opportunity, in tasting many kinds of
plants and roots and in learning where the night crawling earth worms
could be found and caught before they pulled their long bodies back into
their burrows.
All too soon, the mother grew uneasy about the coming of day and started
back. Striped Coat followed but this time found difficulty in keeping
up; there were no stops now, the mother thought only of getting back to
the barn. So the little skunk, work his short legs as he would, kept
dropping behind. Added to this strain was the presence of a big bird,
Great Horned Owl, who flew silently from tree to tree, at a little
distance from them but always nearly abreast of their course. There was
something so stealthy about his watchful waiting that Striped Coat grew
afraid.
On and on went the mother with the galloping motion used so much by the
skunks, and Striped Coat still toddled along and kept her in sight while
also watching the big owl. Then some bushes loomed ahead and the little
skunk found himself suddenly alone. A shadow seemed to pass over him; he
dodged into the bushes like a flash and escaped the talons of Great
Horned Owl by a mere inch. Indeed, where he had been a moment before,
now stood the big bird, its eyes glaring, wings ready for another dash
and strike.
Striped Coat cowered back against what seemed a solid wall of stems, and
the owl noting his fear, started into the bushes after him; but suddenly
things changed; with a stamp of his foot the little fellow sidled
forward, every hair on end, his tail straight over his back. The owl
hesitated; he was facing more of a proposition than he had bargained
for. The little skunk looked young and defenseless, but it acted very
grown up. The owl knew what an old wood pussy could do.
[Illustration: Where he had been a moment before, now stood the big
bird, its eyes glaring, wings ready for another dash and strike]
Snapping his hooked beak, the big bird backed away and with a final
glare, took wing as silently as he had come. A minute later his "Hu hu,
huua hu," sounded nearby as he called to locate his mate, then further,
and finally so far away it was like a faint echo in the distance. Then
Striped Coat came out and continued his journey, and it might have been
noticed that now he walked along with a kind of self confident dignity,
every hair still on end. More than ever he looked like a little fur
ball, but not the kind with which it is safe to play.
Sniffing along his mother's trail, he very quickly came in sight of the
hole under the barn, but before going in he took a look at the nest of
his friend the white crow, then, all puffed up, with furry tail still
proudly held up like a flag, he marched in to join the others.