FIERCE STAR NOSE, THE BURROWER
Star Nose, the mole, loved best of all very dark places. In fact he
spent most of his life underground, so that whenever he did venture
abroad into strong sunlight, the glare would nearly blind his tiny,
almost concealed eyes. It was on this very account, more than any
other, that he preferred to come forth from his underground home
about twilight. Now if you chanced to come across Star Nose above
ground, at first sight you might judge him to be a very slow-moving,
dull-witted creature. In reality he was just about the most fierce,
blood-thirsty little fellow on earth or under it. For, if Star Nose
had actually been about the size of a lion, instead of a tiny mole,
he might readily, with one grasp of teeth or claws, so it is said,
tear a great ox asunder. So it was just as well for everybody that
he was a mere mole.
Wonderfully fine and soft, beyond words, was his smoke-grey,
plush-like coat, and by special providence the fur of this coat did
not grow in just one direction like that of most furred animals.
Instead, you might stroke it either way, up or down. For this reason
Star Nose was able to travel backward or forward with equal speed.
So strong was Star Nose that he could upheave a long section of the
hardest earth, no matter if a steam roller had gone over it.
Sometimes, when travelling swiftly through one of his subway
passages, his velvety coat would become caked with soil; then he
would give himself a quick shake which sent it flying from his back,
thus cleaning his fur.
It is never well to judge anything by mere appearances, so, although
Star Nose had tiny bits of eyes and no visible ears, he was by no
means a dullard. Nature, ever helpful, had shown him exactly the way
to take care of himself, and, unlike his cousins, the plain little
shrews, Star Nose wore upon the tip end of his small pointed snout a
pink star. This star was not given him for just an ornament; it
helped him wonderfully in finding his way about underground and,
besides, he used it in rooting out deep holes, precisely as a pig
uses its flattened snout. Star Nose spent most of his life digging,
and for this very reason his claws, instead of curving inward when
shut, as do those of most other animals, were arranged in quite a
queer fashion--they curved back. This was a great help to him, for
he could use them precisely as though they were little spades to toss
aside the dirt out of his road. So quickly did he work that, if you
but turned your head away for a minute, by the time you looked again
Star Nose had dug a hole and was out of sight.
Of all the burrowing tribes which live below ground Star Nose was
perhaps the prize digger. He was not content to dig out a burrow for
himself a little distance below ground and then sit still in its
doorway as did his neighbours, the gopher family. No, nothing would
suit Star Nose but a regular city subway, with such straight streets
that you wondered how, with his half blindness, he could ever manage
to dig them. In addition to this, there were spacious chambers,
passages, and regular galleries--long roads which led to his feeding
places. You would soon have lost your way in such a maze, but Star
Nose never did. He lived in a great bank, and the entrance to his
home he had concealed beneath a bush where you would never have seen
it, so deftly was it hidden. There was just a little spot raised in
the earth which led straight into a large chamber. Five passageways
descended from this, connected by galleries lower down, and from this
ran many subways and long roads which were worn quite hard and smooth
by the passage of old Star Nose, the hermit mole. It was very well
for him that these walls were solid, otherwise his whole home might
have come tumbling in upon him during a storm.
Now the real reason why Star Nose happened to be occupying such a
grand apartment alone was this. Last June he had chanced to meet and
select for his mate a little silver-coated mole. But one of his
plain, shrew mole cousins had upset all his well laid plans.
Happening to meet Star Nose and his companion just outside their
burrow, he actually tried to persuade her to go off with him. This
was entirely too much for Star Nose to stand; it made him so
furiously angry and jealous that he fell upon the impudent shrew, and
right there under the home bush they had a dreadful battle. Long and
hard they fought there; they scratched and tore and bit each other's
beautiful fur coats until they were in tatters, uttering fierce
squeaks of rage, rolling over and over in a deadly grip, each mole
quite determined to win little Silver Coat, while she, poor thing,
sat stupidly by, wondering what it all meant. As she sat there
shaking gently, old Golden Eyes, the hawk, went sailing overhead, and
making one swift lunge downward bore her away. Neither Star Nose nor
his antagonist noticed that she was missing; they kept on with their
awful fight, biting each other savagely, as they had in the
beginning, until finally the shrew had to give up; he was getting the
worst of it, and crawled miserably away. Then Star Nose, for the
first time remembering what the fight had been about, searched vainly
for his little companion. He peered anxiously everywhere, nosing the
earth on all sides and searching; then, thinking perhaps she had gone
down into the burrow, down he scurried, peering up and down the long
roads and galleries, calling softly to her with little muffled
squeaks; this because of the earth which sometimes filled his
nostrils. In vain he searched. He did not find Silver Coat.
Discouraged and worn out on account of his terrific struggles, he
gave up, huddled himself in a soft little ball, covered his head with
his flat claws, and took a long sleep in the main chamber of his
home, hoping to forget his troubles.
All that summer Star Nose lived alone, and so he became a kind of
hermit mole. Of course he was not so very happy; in fact his
disposition had become sadly changed. So upset was he by the loss of
his little mate that he felt disagreeable with everything which
happened to cross his path. Sometimes, so fiercely jealous and full
of hate was he that he would enter the subways of the shrew family
when they were away, and when he came across a nest full of baby
shrews would bite and kill them viciously, in the meanest way.
Finally all the shrews for miles about dreaded the approach of old
Star Nose and avoided his trails. Even the sight of his star-tipped
snout seen breaking through the earth, on a moonlight night, would
put them in a panic and they would scurry away.
Star Nose cared nothing for them. He now laid all his troubles to
the shrew tribe and so planned in this unjust way to get even with
them.
At last the warm, autumnal sunshine no longer shone down and warmed
the bank with its rays. As it grew colder, many of those who lived
in underground homes, the fur-coated burrowing tribes, began to make
ready their winter quarters. The chipmunks had laid in their stores,
the woodchucks, now sleek and very fat, had gone into their inner
chambers and closed up their front and back doors snugly that they
might sleep warm all winter. So there were really very few among the
wild ones stirring abroad. Colder and bleaker grew the hillside, but
thicker, softer and more elegant became the velvety coat of old Star
Nose. He didn't care how cold it grew; in fact he worked all the
harder, even beginning new subways deeper down in the ground, which
ran far beneath, so the frost could not enter. Star Nose did not
close up his doors as had the woodchuck family, for he loved to creep
outside and gnaw among the roots and grasses. When the sun came out
it warmed his thick fur coat very pleasantly. He took even longer
journeys underground, digging frantically in new directions, and he
never forgot the fright he had once when in digging he actually broke
right through into the hut of Musquash, the muskrat, where it faced
the water. It chanced to be vacant, and while he was busy exploring
the hut, wondering what kind of cement Musquash used to harden its
walls, he heard the slap of a muskrat's tail upon the water. Peering
out he saw bubbles rising, then a brown pointed snout, and two
indignant eyes looking right at him. Star Nose tried to back out
down a passageway, but he was not quick enough, and even before he
could turn about Musquash, with a squeak of rage, had him right
beneath his claws. Sly old Star Nose thought his time had come then,
but, strangely enough, he managed to wriggle his soft body free and
had slipped quickly off down a long, narrow passage, too small for
the muskrat to follow him. Star Nose realised he had had a narrow
escape that time. But, I suspect, if the truth were known, Musquash
did not happen to be very hungry, for he had just had a fine meal of
lily roots; then, too, Star Nose is not reckoned so great a dainty,
for he carries such a disagreeable scent of musk about him, even
stronger than that of Musquash himself; 'tis said no wild thing will
devour him unless very, very hungry.
After this escape, you may be quite certain Star Nose did not visit
the huts of Musquash again. One day Star Nose poked his snout out of
a runway of earth which he was raising, and soft white snow feathers
came whirling down. He crept forth, and finally the little flakes
were sprinkled thickly over his heavy fur coat. He enjoyed the snow
although it cut off his food supply above ground. This fact did not
worry him, for deep down below the frost line in the earth, grew a
matted network of all kinds of succulent roots, some of them
terminating in bunches of little, juicy ground nuts. The teeth of
the mole were sharp and fine as needles, so all he had to do was to
dig and then feast as he worked, which was pleasant, for he was
always coming upon some unexpected dainty ahead of him.
At last the snow fell; deep and soft it covered over the hill with a
white, thick blanket. Yet beneath the blanket worked and travelled
Star Nose. All winter long his trails ran just beneath the deep snow
and in the spring, when the ground became bare once more, one is able
to see all these blind trails for oneself. The first warm sun shone
out at last. It was the beginning of the spring thaws; then the snow
blanket upon the hill began to grow thinner each day. Already the
great snowy owl had begun to think about a nest, and certain of the
fur tribes had ventured to come out, at least upon sunny days, for
they were terribly hungry after their long winter sleep.
Right out upon the white snow crust finally crept Star Nose, the
mole. At first the glare almost blinded him, he had stayed so long
under ground; besides, he loved night best of all. However, he liked
to feel the grateful sun warming his back, so there he lay, a soft,
blind, stupid bunch of fur, out in plain sight upon the white snow.
A long, slim figure, fur-clad, all in white, excepting the tip of its
tail, which was brown, came mincing along, picking its way warily
over the snow, craning its long neck and peering, first to this side
then the other. Over the little snow hummocks it crept, its crafty
yellow eyes searching everywhere for food. This was just Kagax, the
weasel, wearing his winter coat of white fur, which did not show
against the snow, and Kagax was glad, for he was very, very hungry.
He spied the little grey heap of fur upon the snow, saw Star Nose
huddled there, covering his blinded eyes from the glare, and
instantly he pounced upon him, and carried him off.
So this was the end, finally, of Star Nose, the cruel, crafty old
hermit mole; such a fierce creature that even his own relatives
feared him. And now his fine, secret chambers which he worked so
long building, and all his subway passages are vacant, temporarily.
But I dare say by spring some of the shrew family will move into his
old home.