THE SINGULAR MISHAP OF DOCTOR MUSKRAT
Don’t you ever believe that a small boy who grows up in the open air
like Tommy Peele doesn’t know just as much about the ways of the wild
things as any of the wild things know about the ways of men. Only he
doesn’t know he knows it. Because he doesn’t have to hunt for every
meal as he used to in the First-Off Beginning. And the only way you
find out what you really do know, deep down inside you, is to use it.
All the same, the very day Tommy Peele got out his trap was the day
the muskrats began their spring running. He hadn’t seen their
footprints, even yet, but that something deep down inside him told him
it was time to expect them.
That trap wasn’t a very good one. He got it from Louis Thomson, who
had a lot that he set out all through other people’s woods where he
thought the other people wouldn’t catch him, because he wasn’t quite
satisfied to hunt just on his own. And he knew this particular trap
was slow because it was all rusty, and it hadn’t a good spring. But he
made Tommy give him a two-bladed knife and his big glass shooter and
twenty cents to boot. For the Red Cow wasn’t the only one who was
greedy.
But Tommy oiled it and cleaned it and got it to work. And he specially
showed it to Watch the Dog and told him to be very careful not to
sniff around and get his nose in it. And Watch spread himself out
beside Tommy while Tommy worked. Watch snoozed contentedly in the sun
and flopped his tail whenever Tommy talked to him. For the weather was
beginning to grow warmer. The thaw that the poor partridge had wanted
so badly had come.
Down by the pond the ice was getting so soft that Nibble didn’t dare
thump on it to call Doctor Muskrat. And he wanted to call him a great
deal of the time. For he knew the wise old doctor was very careful
about making tracks near his warm spring. But all sorts of careless
young muskrats were wandering up and down the stream. They said it was
mating time, and they were trying to find some lady muskrat who would
be foolish enough to start housekeeping then. They ran in and out
among the willows, gnawing and digging and making the plainest sort of
trail, and then they would flop with their muddy feet right into the
drinking hole.
I can tell you it made Nibble angry enough. He didn’t fancy drinking
after them, but they didn’t pay any attention to him. And Chaik the
Jay got into such a rage that he forgot he should have kept quiet
there. He perched on the tallest bulrush and cursed and squalled at
them. But when Doctor Muskrat heard the rumpus and lifted his head up
through the ice, with his long teeth showing between his gray
whiskers, they scuttled off as though Silvertip himself were after
them.
And then the old doctor would fume. “The Mink take them and their
love-making, the silly young things! What’s the sense of disturbing
the whole marsh just because they want everyone to know they’re old
enough to dig a nursery? Eh?” He forgot that he’d done the very same
thing in his own first spring.
But Nibble thought they were having a mighty good time over it all.
Only he wished they wouldn’t leave quite so many tracks for Tommy
Peele to find.
And the very next day there came Tommy, splashing through the big
puddles in his tall rubber boots, sloshing through the last of the
snowdrifts, and whistling a lively tune. And Nibble pricked up his
ears to listen. Because he thought that maybe Tommy was on a spring
wandering of his own, and this was his mating song. For he never
dreamed that whole generations of bunnies and muskrats and piping
birds would grow old and die before Tommy even thought of such a
thing.
Tommy had on his blue sweater, but he’d left his red mittens hanging
back of the stove because he’d got them all wet snowballing. And Watch
was dancing along in front of him singing “Aourgh! aorugh!” which is
neither a mating song nor a proper hunting song. It was like Tommy’s
whistle—it showed that he was perfectly happy.
But Nibble wasn’t. He was awfully uncomfortable. For all the
footprints of those foolish young beasts led straight to the warm
spring, which was still the only open water, though the ice was soft
and melting all over the pond. And you remember this was the wise old
doctor’s front door.
Of course Tommy followed them right there. And Nibble crouched into a
clump of bulrushes close behind him—close enough to hear him working
over something; close enough to hear Watch saying in an excited tone,
“It’s all right! I can smell ’em—lots of ’em!”
Nibble was so worried he nearly squirmed. He wanted to get out to the
little round house in the middle of the pond and warn Doctor Muskrat.
The minute Tommy’s back was turned he started to creep over the
crumbly ice toward it. But Watch’s back wasn’t turned. He bounced out
after Nibble. And he bounced right through the ice. And the minute
Doctor Muskrat heard that splashing and thrashing right in his front
pond, out he popped. “Clang!” That ugly trap had him by the paw!
“Oh-h-h! Oow-w-w!” screamed the poor old doctor. But he didn’t lose
his head entirely. “Quick, Nibble,” he begged, “bite off my toes
before that dog gets here! I can’t reach them.” His own poor old teeth
were chattering with fear and pain.
And that’s exactly what Nibble was trying to do when Watch floundered
out of the water. “Aourgh! I’ve got you!” he barked joyfully. Then he
stopped short and wagged his tail in the friendliest way. “Why, you’re
Tommy’s rabbit!” he said. And he tried to explain to Tommy Peele.
But Tommy wouldn’t listen. He couldn’t think of anything but that poor
old beast, squealing over his hurt paw. It made Tommy’s own throat
hurt to hear him. He wanted to help, but the doctor couldn’t
understand. He just gnashed his teeth and snapped at Tommy. Then Tommy
managed to touch the spring of the trap with his toe. He stepped, and
it yawned open—just for an instant. Away went Doctor Muskrat.
But Nibble wasn’t looking. He had leaped back into his hiding place in
the reeds and closed his eyes.
He wished he could close his long ears as well. He expected to hear
his good old friend squeal when Tommy killed him. But all he heard was
a splash.
Then Watch the Dog said, “I told you you’d be glad you were Tommy
Peele’s rabbit!” He was standing close beside Nibble and he was
looking over his shoulder to give an affectionate wag of his tail
toward Tommy Peele. Nibble looked, too. And there was Tommy
unfastening his trap from where he had tied it to a reed clump so it
couldn’t be dragged away. But there was no sign of any muskrat.
“He’s gone,” Watch explained. “Tommy let him go. I expect that was
because he was a friend of yours.” Of course there was still too much
wolf in Watch for him to understand that Tommy had just been sorry for
hunting the doctor. But Watch was sure anything that small boy did was
wonderful, and reflected forever to his credit.
“But why did he bite him if he didn’t mean to eat him?” Nibble asked
in a trembly voice. That was something he never did understand. And
Watch didn’t try to. He was cocking his ears to see what next Tommy
was going to do.
Tommy yanked the trap loose from the reed clump. And he wasn’t proud
of owning it any more. He hated it— quite as much as Nibble or even
Doctor Muskrat did. He swung it about his head and threw it splash
into the hole Watch had made when he fell through the ice chasing
Nibble.
Then he looked at a hole the doctor’s long teeth had slashed in his
tall rubber boot. “I don’t care,” he said defiantly. “I don’t care a
bit! I hurt him awfully. He had a perfect right to hurt me if he
wanted to.”
The teeth hadn’t gone in deep enough really to bite Tommy’s toe, but
of course neither Nibble nor Doctor Muskrat ever guessed that. Their
hides belong to them and they couldn’t ever imagine that his tall
rubber boots weren’t any more a part of Tommy than those steel jaws of
his traps were. Watch could, because he sometimes wore a collar, and
on very cold nights Tommy covered him up with a blanket, but he never
thought of explaining it.
[Illustration: “Clang!” That ugly trap had Dr. Muskrat by the paw.]
Then Tommy marched all the way up to the house and got his cap full of
the same delicious meal he had given Nibble and the White Cow the day
the Red Cow chased him. It was “Thank you” to them for helping him get
away from her. He set out two little piles. Then he called: “Here
Bunny, Bunny, Bunny!” And that showed Nibble that one of those piles
was for him. So Watch was right. It was nice to be Tommy’s rabbit.
And Watch explained: “The other is for your friend the Muskrat. Don’t
you eat it.”
As though Nibble would!