HOW OTHERS HUNT
With the first signs of darkness, Red Ben uncurled himself and took a
long stretch. Then he gaped until nearly every tooth in his head was
bared. After that he realized how ravenously hungry he felt, also how
bad this dry, hot night would be for hunting.
Far away he heard a great horned owl hooting. "Who--who, who--whoo," it
said, over and over again. Nearby, Screech Owl was crooning to his
little mate, very softly. They, too, were hunters and knew that there
was little use in settling down to work until the dew had gathered in
the fields and made the withered grass luscious enough to entice the
rabbits and mice into the open. All had to have water, and for most of
the little creatures that gnaw, it was safer to sip the dew than to take
the long trip to Goose Creek.
Suddenly a weird scream filled the woods. It had scarcely ceased when
another pierced the air, this time much closer to Red Ben. The fox
cowered back and waited. Again the scream, and then a ghostlike, whitish
shadow flitting between the trees.
Barn Owl, strangest of all the creatures of the night, was flying to his
hunting ground. Many a silly ghost story has been started by a glimpse
of him--innocent old mouse eater--in his moonlight travels through the
woods. By day he rested in a hollow tree, or hid in dense tangles high
above the ground. Now and then he found a roosting place on the rafters
of some tumble down barn. By night he searched the meadows for mice and
moles, doing great good to the lands of the farmers.
Red Ben had often seen Barn Owl's white form, but never before heard his
call so near at hand. In the summer he had come across two of the old
bird's youngsters squatting forlornly beside the stump of an old hollow
tree, which had been their home until a woodcutter had felled it the day
before.
[Illustration: "They sat on their tails and held hands"]
The fox had come too close to the suspicious birds and had nearly been
caught by the quick blow both aimed at him with their long talons. One
reached out so far that he lost his balance and toppled over. Struggling
violently to get on his feet, he clawed his brother, by mistake, and
received a sound whack in punishment.
Forgetting brotherly love and fear of the fox pup, they then flew at
each other in a fury and had a good fight. At last, exhausted, they sat
on their tails and held hands while hissing defiance at each other in a
comical way.
Red Ben was very much interested in the strange pair, and made a
practice of taking a look at them every night. The devoted old mother
fed them regularly, often leaving beside them several more mice than
their stomachs had room for. These, however, they ate during the day,
swallowing fur, tails, feet and everything, but later spitting up in
neat balls all the bones and undigestible parts.
At last a day came when they were not to be found near the tree.
Overhead, however, sounded a rasping call. Red Ben looked up and saw two
monkey faces, rimmed in white, looking down at him from a high limb.
Their wings had grown long and they had learned to fly. Soon four big
barn owls, instead of two, would be quartering the meadows in moonlit
nights.
The pangs of hunger soon drove Red Ben to begin to hunt along Goose
Creek. In daytime, rows of mud turtles, coiled water snakes and greenish
black bull frogs were usually to be found there on floating logs,
warming themselves in the sunshine. At night, some of these ventured to
come ashore after insects.
[Illustration: "Muskrat was busy pulling up grass"]
Picking his way cautiously along the water's edge, Red Ben noticed a
muskrat swimming in the middle of the sluggish stream. Hoping it would
land near him, he hid, but the wily rat went ashore on the far bank
where he was safe from the fox, but not from a brown mink whose fierce
eyes were also watching.
Mink was a swift swimmer whose thick fur shed water quite as well as
that of Muskrat. He dove into the stream as noiselessly as a snake, swam
under the surface until at a point below Muskrat, who just then was busy
pulling up grass which he expected to carry to the stream and wash
before eating.
Red Ben, in his excitement, leaped out on a bar of sand where he could
see the chase more easily. Screech Owl, too, having caught a glimpse
from a distant cedar, flew to a limb over the stream. All the creatures
within that angle of the creek except poor old Muskrat seemed to know
that something was going to happen. Even the bats flitted about without
their usual dips and rushes after low flying bugs.
Muskrat, with mouth full of grass and roots, turned back just as Mink's
head came above the steep bank. For one breathless second the two furry
creatures looked at each other, then the rat plunged headlong for the
stream. Like a football player he charged down the bank, throwing the
small but fierce Mink head over heels into the water. Muskrat dove and
vanished so quickly among the stems of the spatterdocks and golden clubs
that Mink was confused, and actually lost him.
A swirl near Red Ben showed him where Muskrat entered the under-water
burrow in the bank, leading to his home. In the clear stream the fox had
a glimpse of the brown body with forepaws held against its sides,
driving itself through the water by great strokes of its webbed hind
feet. Its long, flat, almost hairless tail acted as a rudder to guide
its course.
Seeing nothing more of either animal, Red Ben trotted on. Ahead was a
dead tree on which were large, black objects. These he knew were turkey
buzzards which by day soared far and wide over the Barrens, searching
for any dead animals that would afford them a feast. Here they gathered
in the evening, a gruesome, ill smelling assemblage.
The fox avoided the tree and swung into the old wood path. It was the
best thing he could have done that night, for it brought him face to
face with a meal. Trotting along quite unconcernedly, his attention held
by the buzzard tree, he was met by an explosion of rage, almost under
his nose. He leaped wildly, to avoid he knew not what. Almost at the
same moment he recognized the big gray tom-cat which had treated him so
uncivilly when he visited Ben Slown's farm.
His dignity had been badly jarred, and he felt angry all over. This
stealthy, hostile creature, which belonged at the farm, had no right to
dispute his way in the wild Barrens. Besides which it had a freshly
killed wild rabbit under its paws.
As the two eyed each other, Red Ben felt the fur tingling along his
spine. The alluring scent of the rabbit filled his hungry nostrils. He
stepped closer--yes, the rabbit certainly was a fat one! Still nearer he
went, always watching the furious eyes that glared at him. How the cat
could growl! Now his nose was within a few inches of the rabbit. His
eyes dropped for the fraction of a second, just to have one good look at
it, and in that instant the raging cat struck with both front paws.
But Red Ben was not there. He had been quick enough to leap away from
those claws. Back he circled and again dodged a furious blow. The
hateful growl of the cat rose into a high pitched shriek of rage. Losing
all caution, he made a spring after the fox, who neatly side stepped it
and picked up the rabbit on the run. A yowl followed him, but as he
looked over his shoulder, he saw the cowardly cat actually turn tail and
dash for home.
This was the beginning of Red Ben's rule over Oak Ridge and Cranberry
Swamp. Before October ended, every animal who lived there had learned
not to trifle with him. He knew them all by that time and respected
their rights, but woe to the one that tried any mean tricks on him. He
was growing big and strong, and very wonderful looking, in his
orange-red fur, which, responding to the first frosts, was becoming long
and rich. The most conspicuous thing to be seen on the Ridge was Red
Ben, but he took care that he seldom was seen. Nevertheless his fame was
growing.