It was not often that the little Ground Hogs were left alone in the
daytime. Before they were born their mother had been heard to say that
she had her opinion of any Ground Hog who would be seen out after
sunrise. Mr. Ground Hog felt in the same way, and said if he ever got to
running around by daylight, like some of his relatives, people might
call him a Woodchuck. He thought that any one who ate twigs, beets,
turnips, young tree-bark, and other green things from sunset to sunrise
ought to be able to get along until the next sunset without a lunch. He
said that any Ground Hog who wanted more was a Pig.
After the baby Ground Hogs were born, matters were different. They could
not go out at night to feed for themselves, and their stomachs were so
tiny and held so little at a time that they had to be filled very often.
Mr. Ground Hog was never at home now, and the care all fell upon his
hard-working wife.
"You know, my dear," he had said, "that I should only be in the way if I
were to stay at home, for I am not clever and patient with children as
you are. No, I think I will go away and see to some matters which I have
rather neglected of late. When the children are grown up and you have
more time to give me, I will come back to you."
Then Mr. Ground Hog trotted away to join a party of his friends who had
just told their wives something of the same sort, and they all went
together to the farmer's turnip patch and had a delightful time until
morning. Mrs. Ground Hog looked after him as he trotted away and wished
that she could go too. He looked so handsome with the moonlight shining
down on his long, thick, reddish fur, and showing the black streak on
his back where the fur was tipped with gray. He was fat and shaky, with
a baggy skin, and when he stopped to sit up on his haunches and wave his
paws at her and comb his face-fur, she thought him just as handsome as
he had been in the early spring when they first met. That had been in a
parsnip patch where there was good feeding until the farmer found that
the Ground Hogs were there, and dug the rest of his vegetables and
stored them in his cellar. Such midnight meals as they had eaten there
together! Mrs. Ground Hog said she never saw a parsnip afterward without
thinking of their courtship.
She had been as handsome as he, and there were many other Ground Hogs
who admired her. But now she was thin and did not have many chances to
comb her fur with her fore paws. She could not go with him to the turnip
patch because she did not wish to go so far from her babies. Thinking of
that reminded her to go into her sidehill burrow and see what they were
doing. Then she lay down and let them draw the warm milk from her body.
While they were feeding she felt of them, and thought how fast they were
growing. It would be only a short time before they could trot around the
fields by themselves and whistle shrilly as they dodged down into their
own burrows. "Ah!" said she, "this is better than turnip patches or even
parsnips."
When they had finished, their mother left them and went out to feed. She
had always been a hearty eater, but now she had to eat enough more to
make the milk for her babies. She often thought that if Ground Hog
babies could eat anything else their father might have learned to help
feed them. She thought of this especially when she saw the Great Horned
Owl carrying food home to his son and daughter. "It is what comes of
being four-legged," said she, "and I wouldn't be an Owl for anything, so
I won't grumble." After this she was more cheerful.
When she left the burrow she always said: "I am going out to feed, and I
shall not be gone very long. Don't be afraid, for you have a good
burrow, and it is nice and dark outside."