[Illustration]
Br'er Rabbit is a funny fellow. No wonder that Uncle Remus makes him
the hero of so many adventures! Uncle Remus had watched him, no doubt,
on some moonlight night when he gathered his boon companions together
for a frolic. In the heart of the woods it was, in a little opening
where the moonlight came streaming in through the pines, making soft
gray shadows for hide-and-seek, and where no prowling fox ever dreamed
of looking.
With most of us, I fear, the acquaintance with Bunny is too limited
for us to appreciate his frolicsome ways and his happy, fun-loving
disposition. The tame things which we sometimes see about country
yards are often stupid, like a playful kitten spoiled by too much
handling; and the flying glimpse we sometimes get of a bundle of brown
fur, scurrying helter-skelter through and over the huckleberry bushes,
generally leaves us staring in astonishment at the swaying leaves
where it disappeared, and wondering curiously what it was all about.
It was only a brown rabbit that you almost stepped upon in your
autumn walk through the woods.
Look under the crimson sumach yonder, there in the bit of brown grass,
with the purple asters hanging over, and you will find his form, where
he has been sitting all the morning and where he watched you all the
way up the hill. But you need not follow; you will not find him again.
He never runs straight; the swaying leaves there where he disappeared
mark the beginning of his turn, whether to right or left you will
never know. Now he has come around his circle and is near you
again--watching you this minute, out of his bit of brown grass. As you
move slowly away in the direction he took, peering here and there
among the bushes, Bunny behind you sits up straight in his old form
again, with his little paws held very prim, his long ears pointed
after you, and his deep brown eyes shining like the waters of a hidden
spring among the asters. And he chuckles to himself, and thinks how he
fooled you that time, sure.
To see Br'er Rabbit at his best, that is, at his own playful comical
self, one must turn hunter, and learn how to sit still, and be
patient. Only you must not hunt in the usual way; not by day, for then
Bunny is stowed away in his form on the sunny slope of a southern
hillside, where one's eyes will never find him; not with gun and dog,
for then the keen interest and quick sympathy needed to appreciate any
phase of animal life gives place to the coarser excitement of the
hunt; and not by going about after Bunny, for your heavy footsteps and
the rustle of leaves will only send him scurrying away into safer
solitudes. Find where he loves to meet with his fellows, in quiet
little openings in the woods. There is no mistaking his playground
when once you have found it. Go there by moonlight and, sitting still
in the shadow, let your game find you, or pass by without suspicion;
for this is the best way to hunt, whether one is after game or only a
better knowledge of the ways of bird and beast.
The very best spot I ever found for watching Bunny's ways was on the
shore of a lonely lake in the heart of a New Brunswick forest. I
hardly think that he was any different there, for I have seen some of
his pranks repeated within sight of a busy New England town; but he
was certainly more natural. He had never seen a man before, and he was
as curious about it as a blue jay. No dog's voice had ever wakened the
echoes within fifty miles; but every sound of the wilderness he seemed
to know a thousand times better than I. The snapping of the smallest
stick under the stealthy tread of fox or wildcat would send him
scurrying out of sight in wild alarm; yet I watched a dozen of them
at play one night when a frightened moose went crashing through the
underbrush and plunged into the lake near by, and they did not seem to
mind it in the least.
The spot referred to was the only camping ground on the lake; so
Simmo, my Indian guide, assured me; and he knew very well. I
discovered afterward that it was the only cleared bit of land for
miles around; and this the rabbits knew very well. Right in the midst
of their best playground I pitched my tent, while Simmo built his
lean-to near by, in another little opening. We were tired that night,
after a long day's paddle in the sunshine on the river. The
after-supper chat before the camp fire--generally the most delightful
bit of the whole day, and prolonged as far as possible--was short and
sleepy; and we left the lonely woods to the bats and owls and creeping
things, and turned in for the night.
I was just asleep when I was startled by a loud thump twice repeated,
as if a man stamped on the ground, or, as I thought at the time, just
like the thump a bear gives an old log with his paw, to see if it is
hollow and contains any insects. I was wide awake in a moment, sitting
up straight to listen. A few minutes passed by in intense stillness;
then, _thump! thump! thump!_ just outside the tent among the ferns.
I crept slowly out; but beyond a slight rustle as my head appeared
outside the tent I heard nothing, though I waited several minutes and
searched about among the underbrush. But no sooner was I back in the
tent and quiet than there it was again, and repeated three or four
times, now here, now there, within the next ten minutes. I crept out
again, with no better success than before.
This time, however, I would find out about that mysterious noise
before going back. It isn't so pleasant to go to sleep until one knows
what things are prowling about, especially things that make a noise
like that. A new moon was shining down into the little clearing,
giving hardly enough light to make out the outlines of the great
evergreens. Down among the ferns things were all black and uniform.
For ten minutes I stood there in the shadow of a big spruce and
waited. Then the silence was broken by a sudden heavy thump in the
bushes just behind me. I was startled, and wheeled on the instant; as
I did so, some small animal scurried away into the underbrush.
For a moment I was puzzled. Then it flashed upon me that I was camped
upon the rabbits' playground. With the thought came a strong suspicion
that Bunny was fooling me.
Going back to the fire, I raked the coals together and threw on some
fresh fuel. Next I fastened a large piece of birch bark on two split
sticks behind the fireplace; then I sat down on an old log to wait.
The rude reflector did very well as the fire burned up. Out in front
the fern tops were dimly lighted to the edge of the clearing. As I
watched, a dark form shot suddenly above the ferns and dropped back
again. Three heavy thumps followed; then the form shot up and down
once more. This time there was no mistake. In the firelight I saw
plainly the dangle of Br'er Rabbit's long legs, and the flap of his
big ears, and the quick flash of his dark eyes in the reflected
light,--got an instantaneous photograph of him, as it were, at the top
of his comical jump.
I sat there nearly an hour before the why and the how of the little
joker's actions became quite clear. This is what happens in such a
case. Bunny comes down from the ridge for his nightly frolic in the
little clearing. While still in the ferns the big white object,
standing motionless in the middle of his playground, catches his
attention; and very much surprised, and very much frightened, but
still very curious, he crouches down close to wait and listen. But the
strange thing does not move nor see him. To get a better view he leaps
up high above the ferns two or three times. Still the big thing
remains quite still and harmless. "Now," thinks Bunny, "I'll frighten
him, and find out what he is." Leaping high he strikes the ground
sharply two or three times with his padded hind foot; then jumps up
quickly again to see the effect of his scare. Once he succeeded very
well, when he crept up close behind me, so close that he didn't have
to spring up to see the effect. I fancy him chuckling to himself as he
scurried off after my sudden start.
That was the first time that I ever heard Bunny's challenge. It
impressed me at the time as one of his most curious pranks; the sound
was so big and heavy for such a little fellow. Since then I have heard
it frequently; and now sometimes when I stand at night in the forest
and hear a sudden heavy thump in the underbrush, as if a big moose
were striking the ground and shaking his antlers at me, it doesn't
startle me in the least. It is only Br'er Rabbit trying to frighten
me.
The next night Bunny played us another trick. Before Simmo went to
sleep he always took off his blue overalls and put them under his head
for a pillow. That was only one of Simmo's queer ways. While he was
asleep the rabbits came into his little _commoosie_, dragged the
overalls out from under his head, and nibbled them full of holes. Not
content with this, they played with them all night; pulled them around
the clearing, as threads here and there plainly showed; then dragged
them away into the underbrush and left them.
Simmo's wrath when he at last found the precious garments was comical
to behold; when he wore them with their new polka-dot pattern, it was
still more comical. Why the rabbits did it I could never quite make
out. The overalls were very dirty, very much stained with everything
from a clean trout to tobacco crumbs; and, as there was nothing about
them for a rabbit to eat, we concluded that it was just one of Br'er
Rabbit's pranks. That night Simmo, to avenge his overalls, set a
deadfall supported by a piece of cord, which he had soaked in molasses
and salt. Which meant that Bunny would nibble the cord for the salt
that was in it, and bring the log down hard on his own back. So I had
to spring it, while Simmo slept, to save the little fellow's life and
learn more about him.
Up on the ridge above our tent was a third tiny clearing, where some
trappers had once made their winter camp. It was there that I watched
the rabbits one moonlight night from my seat on an old log, just
within the shadow at the edge of the opening. The first arrival came
in with a rush. There was a sudden scurry behind me, and over the log
he came with a flying leap that landed him on the smooth bit of ground
in the middle, where he whirled around and around with grotesque
jumps, like a kitten after its tail. Only Br'er Rabbit's tail was too
short for him ever to catch it; he seemed rather to be trying to get a
good look at it. Then he went off helter-skelter in a headlong rush
through the ferns. Before I knew what had become of him, over the log
he came again in a marvelous jump, and went tearing around the
clearing like a circus horse, varying his performance now by a high
leap, now by two or three awkward hops on his hind legs, like a
dancing bear. It was immensely entertaining.
The third time around he discovered me in the midst of one of his
antics. He was so surprised that he fell down. In a second he was up
again, sitting up very straight on his haunches just in front of me,
paws crossed, ears erect, eyes shining in fear and curiosity. "Who are
you?" he was saying, as plainly as ever rabbit said it. Without moving
a muscle I tried to tell him, and also that he need not be afraid.
Perhaps he began to understand, for he turned his head on one side,
just as a dog does when you talk to him. But he wasn't quite
satisfied. "I'll try my scare on him," he thought; and _thump! thump!
thump!_ sounded his padded hind foot on the soft ground. It almost
made me start again, it sounded so big in the dead stillness. This
last test quite convinced him that I was harmless, and, after a
moment's watching, away he went in some astonishing jumps into the
forest.
A few minutes passed by in quiet waiting before he was back again,
this time with two or three companions. I have no doubt that he had
been watching me all the time, for I heard his challenge in the brush
just behind my log. The fun now began to grow lively. Around and
around they went, here, there, everywhere,--the woods seemed full of
rabbits, they scurried around so. Every few minutes the number
increased, as some new arrival came flying in and gyrated around like
a brown fur pinwheel. They leaped over everything in the clearing;
they leaped over each other as if playing leap-frog; they vied with
each other in the high jump. Sometimes they gathered together in the
middle of the open space and crept about close to the ground, in and
out and roundabout, like a game of fox and geese. Then they rose on
their hind legs and hopped slowly about in all the dignity of a
minuet. Right in the midst of the solemn affair some mischievous
fellow gave a squeak and a big jump; and away they all went
hurry-skurry, for all the world like a lot of boys turned loose for
recess. In a minute they were back again, quiet and sedate, and solemn
as bull-frogs. Were they chasing and chastising the mischief-maker, or
was it only the overflow of abundant spirits as the top of a kettle
blows off when the pressure below becomes resistless?
[Illustration]
Many of the rabbits saw me, I am sure, for they sometimes gave a high
jump over my foot; and one came close up beside it, and sat up
straight with his head on one side, to look me over. Perhaps it was
the first comer, for he did not try his scare again. Like most wild
creatures, they have very little fear of an object that remains
motionless at their first approach and challenge.
Once there was a curious performance over across the clearing. I could
not see it very plainly, but it looked very much like a boxing match.
A queer sound, _put-a-put-a-put-a-put_, first drew my attention to it.
Two rabbits were at the edge of the ferns, standing up on their hind
legs, face to face, and apparently cuffing each other soundly, while
they hopped slowly around and around in a circle. I could not see the
blows but only the boxing attitude, and hear the sounds as they landed
on each other's ribs. The other rabbits did not seem to mind it, as
they would have done had it been a fight, but stopped occasionally to
watch the two, and then went on with their fun-making. Since then I
have read of tame hares that did the same thing, but I have never seen
it.
At another time the rabbits were gathered together in the very midst
of some quiet fun, when they leaped aside suddenly and disappeared
among the ferns as if by magic. The next instant a dark shadow swept
across the opening, almost into my face, and wheeled out of sight
among the evergreens. It was Kookoo-skoos, the big brown owl, coursing
the woods on his nightly hunt after the very rabbits that were
crouched motionless beneath him as he passed. But how did they learn,
all at once, of the coming of an enemy whose march is noiseless as the
sweep of a shadow? And did they all hide so well that he never
suspected that they were about, or did he see the ferns wave as the
last one disappeared, but was afraid to come back after seeing me?
Perhaps Br'er Rabbit was well repaid that time for his confidence.
They soon came back again, as I think they would not have done had it
been a natural opening. Had it been one of Nature's own sunny spots,
the owl would have swept back and forth across it; for he knows the
rabbits' ways as well as they know his. But hawks and owls avoid a
spot like this, that men have cleared. If they cross it once in search
of prey, they seldom return. Wherever man camps, he leaves something
of himself behind; and the fierce birds and beasts of the woods fear
it, and shun it. It is only the innocent things, singing birds, and
fun-loving rabbits, and harmless little wood-mice--shy, defenseless
creatures all--that take possession of man's abandoned quarters, and
enjoy his protection. Bunny knows this, I think; and so there is no
other place in the woods that he loves so well as an old camping
ground.
The play was soon over; for it is only in the early part of the
evening, when Br'er Rabbit first comes out after sitting still in his
form all day, that he gives himself up to fun, like a boy out of
school. If one may judge, however, from the looks of Simmo's overalls,
and from the number of times he woke me by scurrying around my tent, I
suspect that he is never too serious and never too busy for a joke. It
is a way he has of brightening the more sober times of getting his own
living, and keeping a sharp lookout for cats and owls and prowling
foxes.
Gradually the playground was deserted, as the rabbits slipped off one
by one to hunt their supper. Now and then there was a scamper among
the underbrush, and a high jump or two, with which some playful bunny
enlivened his search for tender twigs; and at times one, more curious
than the rest, came hopping along to sit erect a moment before the old
log, and look to see if the strange animal were still there. But soon
the old log was vacant too. Out in the swamp a disappointed owl sat on
his lonely stub that lightning had blasted, and hooted that he was
hungry. The moon looked down into the little clearing with its waving
ferns and soft gray shadows, and saw nothing there to suggest that it
was the rabbits' nursery.
Down at the camp a new surprise was awaiting me. Br'er Rabbit was
under the tent fly, tugging away at the salt bag which I had left
there carelessly after curing a bearskin. While he was absorbed in
getting it out from under the rubber blanket, I crept up on hands and
knees, and stroked him once from ears to tail. He jumped straight up
with a startled squeak, whirled in the air, and came down facing me.
So we remained for a full moment, our faces scarcely two feet apart,
looking into each other's eyes. Then he thumped the earth soundly with
his left hind foot, to show that he was not afraid, and scurried under
the fly and through the brakes in a half circle to a bush at my heels,
where he sat up straight in the shadow to watch me.
But I had seen enough for one night. I left a generous pinch of salt
where he could find it easily, and crept in to sleep, leaving him to
his own ample devices.