When the days grew short and chilly, and bleak winds blew out of the
great blue-gray cloud banks in the west, many of the forest people went
to sleep for the winter. And not only they, but over in the meadow the
Tree Frog and the Garter Snake had already crawled out of sight and were
dreaming sweetly. The song birds had long before this started south, and
the banks of the pond and its bottom of comfortable soft mud held many
sleepers. Under the water the Frogs had snuggled down in groups out of
sight. Some of the Turtles were there also, and some were in the bank.
The Ground Hogs had grown stupid and dozy before the last leaves
fluttered to the ground, and had been the first of the fur-bearers to
go to bed for the winter. There were so many interesting things to see
and do in the late fall days that they tried exceedingly hard to keep
awake.
A Weasel was telling a Ground Hog something one day--and it was a
very interesting piece of gossip, only it was rather unkind, and so
might better not be told here--when he saw the Ground Hog winking
very slow and sleepy winks and letting his head droop lower and lower.
Once he asked him if he understood. The Ground Hog jumped and opened
his eyes very wide indeed, and said: "Oh, yes, yes! Perfectly!
Oh-ah-ah-ah-ah-ah." His yawn didn't look so big as it sounds, because
his mouth was so small.
He tried to act politely interested, but just as the Weasel reached the
most exciting part of his story, the Ground Hog rolled over sound
asleep. The next day he said "good-by" to his friends, wished them a
happy winter, and said he might see some of them before spring, as he
should come out once to make the weather. "I only hope I shall awaken in
time," he said, "but I am fat enough to sleep until the violets are up."
He had to be fat, you know, to last him through the cold weather without
eating. He was so stout that he could hardly waddle, his big,
loose-skinned body dragged when he walked, and was even shakier than
ever. He really couldn't hurry by jumping and he was so short of breath
that he could barely whistle when he went into his hole.
The Raccoons went after the Ground Hog and the Skunks were later still.
They never slept so very long, and said they didn't really need to at
all, and wouldn't except that they had nothing to do and it made
housekeeping easier. It saved so much not to have to go out to their
meals in the coldest weather.
When the large people were safely out of the way, the smaller ones had
their best times. The Muskrats were awake, but they had their big houses
to eat and were not likely to trouble Mice and Squirrels. There was not
much to fear except Owls and Weasels. The Ground Hogs had once tried to
get the Great Horned Owl to go south when the Cranes did, and he had
laughed in their faces. "To-whoo!" said he. "Not I! I'm not afraid of
cold weather. You don't know how warm feathers are. I never wear
anything else. Furs are all right, but they are not feathers."
He and his relatives sat all day in their holes, and seldom flew out
except at night. Sometimes, when the day was not too bright, they made
short trips out for luncheon. It was very unfortunate for any Mouse to
be near at those times.
Now the snow had fallen and the beautiful still cold days had come. The
Weasels' fur had changed from brown to white, as it does in cold
countries in winter. The Chipmunks had taken their last scamper until
early spring, and were living, each alone, in their comfortable burrows.
They were most independent and thrifty. No one ever heard of a Chipmunk
lacking food unless some robber had carried off his nuts and corn. The
Mice think that it must be very dull for a Chipmunk to stay by himself
all winter, since he does not sleep steadily. The Chipmunks do not find
it so. One of them said: "Dull? I never find it dull. When I am awake, I
eat or clean my fur or think. If I had any one staying with me he might
rouse me when I want to sleep, or pick the nut that I want for myself,
or talk when I am thinking. No, thank you, I will go calling when I want
company."
[Illustration: THE MICE MAKE WINTER THEIR PLAYTIME. _Page 195_]
The Mice make winter their playtime. Then the last summer's babies are
all grown up and able to look out for themselves, and the fathers and
mother's have a chance to rest. The Meadow Mice come together in big
parties and build groups of snug winter homes under the snow of the
meadow, with many tiny covered walks leading from one to another. Their
food is all around them--grass roots and brown seeds--and there is so
much of it that they never quarrel to see who shall have this root and
who shall have that. They sleep during the daytime and awaken to eat and
visit and have a good time at night.
Sometimes they are awakened in the daytime, as they were when the Grouse
broke through the snow near them. That was an accident, and the Grouse
felt very sorry about it. They had snuggled down in a cozy family party
near by, and were just starting out for a stroll one morning when the
eldest son stumbled and fell and crushed through the snow into the
little settlement of Meadow Mice.
The young Grouse was much ashamed of his awkwardness. "I am so sorry,"
he said. "I'm not used to my snow-shoes yet. This is the first winter I
have worn them."
"That is all right," said the Oldest Mouse politely. "It must be hard to
manage them at first. We hope you will have better luck after this."
Then they bowed to each other and the Grouse walked off to join his
brothers and sisters, lifting his feet with their newly grown feather
snow-shoes very high at every step. The Meadow Mice went to work to make
their homes neat again, yet they never looked really right until that
snow had melted and more had fallen. One might think that the Meadow
Mice and the Grouse would care less for each other after that, but it
was not so. It never is so if people who make trouble are quick to say
that they are sorry, and those who were hurt will keep patient and
forgiving.
It was only the night after this happened that one of the Deer Mice had
a great fright. His home was in a Bee tree in the forest. The Bees and
he had always been the best of friends, and now that they were keeping
close to their honeycomb all winter, the Deer Mouse had taken a small
room in the same tree. It helped to keep him warm when he slept close to
the Bees, for there was always some heat coming from their bodies. Once
in a while, too, he took a nibble of honey, and they did not mind.
The Deer Mouse did not keep much of his own winter food where he lived.
He had a few beechnuts near by, and when the weather was very stormy
indeed he ate some of these. There was room for many more in the
storeroom (another hole in the Bee tree), but he liked to keep food in
many places. "It is wiser," said he. "Supposing I had them all here and
this tree should be blown down, and it should fall in such a way that I
couldn't reach the hole. What would I do then?"
He was talking to a Rabbit when he said this. The Rabbit never stored up
food himself, yet he sometimes told other people how he thought it
should be done. He was sure it would be better to have all the nuts in
one place as the Chipmunks did. And now that the Deer Mouse had given
his reasons, he was just as sure as ever. "The Bee tree is not very
likely to blow down in that way," said he. "There is not much danger."
"Not much, but some," answered the Deer Mouse. "Hollow trees fall more
quickly than solid ones. You may store your food where you please and
I'll take care of mine."
The Deer Mouse spoke very decidedly, although he was perfectly polite.
His beautiful brown eyes looked squarely at the Rabbit, and you could
tell by the position of his slender long tail that he was much in
earnest. The Rabbit went home.
The Deer Mouse put away hundreds and hundreds of beechnuts. These he
took carefully out of their shells and laid in nicely lined holes in
tree-trunks. He used leaves for lining these places. Besides keeping
food in the trees, he hid little piles of nuts under stones and logs,
and tucked seeds into chinks of fences or tiny pockets in the ground. He
had worked in the wheatfield after the grain was cut, picking up and
carrying away the stray kernels which had fallen from the sheaves. He
never counted the places where food was stored, but he was happy in
thinking about them. When he lay down to sleep in the morning he always
knew where the next night's meals were coming from. There was not a
thriftier, happier person in the forest. He was gentle, good-natured,
and exceedingly businesslike. He was also very handsome, with large ears
and white belly and feet.
The night after his cousins, the Meadow Mice, had been so frightened by
the Grouse, this Deer Mouse started out for a good time. He called on
the Meadow Mice, ate a chestnut which he dug up in the edge of the
forest, scampered up a fence-post and tasted of his hidden wheat to be
sure that it was keeping well, and then went to the tree where most of
his beechnuts were stored. He was not quite certain that he wanted to
eat one, but he wished to be sure that they were all right before he
went on. He had been invited to a party by some other Deer Mice, and so,
you see, it wouldn't do for him to spoil his appetite. They would be
sure to have refreshments at the party.
"I suppose they are all right," said he, as he started to run up the
tree; "still it is just as well to be sure."
"My whiskers!" he exclaimed, when he reached the hole. "If that isn't
just like a Red Squirrel!"
The opening into the tree had been barely large enough for him to
squeeze through, and now he could pass in without crushing his fur.
Around the edge of it were many marks of sharp teeth. Somebody had
wanted to get in and had not found the doorway large enough. The Deer
Mouse went inside and sat on his beechnuts. Then he thought and thought
and thought. He knew very well that it was a Red Squirrel, for the Red
Squirrels are not so thrifty as most of the nut-eaters. They make a
great fuss about gathering food in the fall, and frisk and chatter and
scold if anybody else comes where they are busy. For all that, the
Chipmunks and the Deer Mice work much harder than they. It is not
always the person who makes the greatest fuss, you know, who does the
most.
A Red Squirrel is usually out of food long before spring comes, and
after that he takes whatever he can lay his paws on. Sometimes the
Chipmunks tell them that they should be ashamed of themselves and work
harder. Then the Red Squirrels sigh and answer, "Oh, that is all very
well for you to say, still you must remember that we have not such cheek
pouches as you."
The Deer Mouse thought of these things. "Cheek pouches!" cried he. "I
have no cheek pouches, but I lay up my own food. It is only an excuse
when they say that. I don't think much of people who make excuses."
He passed through the doorway several times to see just how big it was.
He found it was not yet large enough for a Red Squirrel. Then he
scampered over the snow to a friend's home. "I'm not going to the
party," said he. "I have some work to do."
"Work?" said the friend. "Work? In winter?" But before he had finished
speaking his caller had gone.
All night long the Deer Mouse carried beechnuts from the old
hiding-place to a new one. He wore quite a path in the snow between one
tree and the other. His feet were tiny, but there were four of them, and
his long tail dragged after him. It was not far that he had to go. The
new place was one which he had looked at before. It was in a maple tree,
and had a long and very narrow opening leading to the storeroom. It was
having to go so far into the tree that had kept the Deer Mouse from
using it before. Now he liked it all the better for having this.
"If that Red Squirrel ever gnaws his way in here," he said, "he won't
have any teeth left for eating."
When the sun rose, the Deer Mouse went to sleep in the maple tree. The
Red Squirrel came and gnawed at the opening into his old storeroom. If
he had gnawed all day he would surely have gotten in. As it was, he had
to spend much time hunting for food. He found some frozen apples still
hanging in the orchard, and bit away at them until he reached the seeds
inside. He found one large acorn, but it was old and tasted musty. He
also squabbled with another Red Squirrel and chased him nearly to the
farmyard. Then Collie heard them and chased him most of the way back.
When night came and he ran off to sleep in his hollow tree, he had made
the hole almost, but not quite, large enough. He could smell the
beechnuts inside, and it made him hungry to think how good they would
taste. "I will get up early to-morrow morning and come here," he said.
"I can gnaw my way in before breakfast, and then!"
He went off in fine leaps to his home and was soon sound asleep. In
summer he often frolicked around half of the night, but now it was cold,
and when the sun went down he liked to get home quickly and wrap up
warmly in his tail. The Red Squirrel was hardly out of sight when the
Deer Mouse came along his path in the snow and up to his old storeroom.
His dainty white feet shook a little as he climbed, and he hardly dared
look in for fear of finding the hole empty. You can guess how happy he
was to find everything safe.
All night long he worked, and when morning came it was a very tired
little Deer Mouse who carried his last beechnut over the trodden path to
its safe new resting place. He was tired but he was happy.
There was just one other thing that he wanted to do. He wanted to see
that Red Squirrel when he found the beechnuts gone. He waited near by
for him to come. It was a beautiful, still winter morning when the
hoar-frost clung to all the branches, and the shadows which fell upon
the snow looked fairly blue, it was so cold. The Deer Mouse crouched
down upon his dainty feet to keep them warm, and wrapped his tail
carefully around to help.
Along came the Red Squirrel, dashing finely and not noticing the Deer
Mouse at all. A few leaps brought him to the tree, a quick run took him
to the hole, and then he began to gnaw. The Deer Mouse was growing
sleepy and decided not to wait longer. He ran along near the Red
Squirrel. "Oh, good-morning!" said he. "Beautiful day! I see you are
getting that hole ready to use. Hope you will like it. I liked it very
well for a while, but I began to fear it wasn't safe."
"Wh-what do you mean?" asked the Red Squirrel sternly. He had seen the
Deer Mouse's eyes twinkle and he was afraid of a joke.
"Oh," answered the Deer Mouse with a careless whisk of his tail, "I had
some beechnuts there until I moved them."
"You had!" exclaimed the Red Squirrel. He did not gnaw any after that.
He suddenly became very friendly. "You couldn't tell me where to find
food, I suppose," said he. "I'd eat almost anything."
The Deer Mouse thought for a minute. "I believe," said he, "that you
will find plenty in the farmer's barn, but you must look out for the
Dog."
"Thank you," said the Red Squirrel. "I will go."
"There!" said the Deer Mouse after he had whisked out of sight. "He has
gone to steal from the farmer. Still, men have so very much that they
ought to share with Squirrels."
And that, you know, is true.
[Illustration]