Part 1

Wilderness Babies

By Julia Augusta Schwartz

_Illustrated from Drawings by John Huybers and from Photographs_

School Edition

Boston Little, Brown, and Company

_Copyright, 1905, 1906_,

BY LITTLE, BROWN, AND COMPANY.

_All rights reserved_

Printers

S. J. PARKHILL & CO., BOSTON, U. S. A.

CONTENTS

PAGE

INTRODUCTION ix

I. THE ONE WITH A POCKET 1

II. THE ONE THAT EATS GRASS IN THE SEA 17

III. THE BIGGEST ONE 27

IV. ONE OF THE FLEETEST 43

V. THE BEST BUILDER 57

VI. THE TIMID ONE 77

VII. THE ONE WITH THE PRETTIEST TAIL 93

VIII. ONE THAT SLEEPS ALL WINTER 107

IX. THE WISEST ONE 121

X. THE FIERCEST ONE 135

XI. THE ONE THAT DIGS THE BEST 149

CONCLUSION 161

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

THE SQUIRREL “They sat on the branches with their bushy tails curving over their backs” _Frontispiece_

THE OPOSSUM PAGE “In a few minutes another and another baby followed the big brother and clung there on the mother’s furry back” 5

THE MANATEE “The old mother manatee held him close to her” 19

THE WHALE “The old mother whale came tearing back to the rescue” 39

THE ELK “Grazing over the upland meadows” 48

THE BEAVER “Across the pond to feast in the woods” 65

THE RABBIT “It was pleasant there in the underbrush of the woods” 84

THE FOX “Now and then the fox stopped to listen” 131

THE WOLF “It was the father wolf coming in” 137

THE MOLE “The greedy young ones shoved and pushed and fought as if they were starving” 152

INTRODUCTION

THIS book tells the stories of some of the baby mammals of the wilderness,—how they grow and learn day by day to take care of themselves. In hollow trees or down under water among the lily leaves, in the cool sea or on the rugged mountains, on the grassy plains or among the waving tree-tops, in the dark caves and burrows or hidden in the tangles underfoot,—all the world is alive with young creatures.

Bright eyes glitter and small paws patter, little noses sniff the air and sharp ears twitch. There is a rustling of leaves above and a crackling of twigs below, a splashing in the swamp and a silent bending of the grasses. In the sunshine or the rain, in the daytime or at night, life is busy everywhere on this beautiful old earth.

All the mammals are alike in having hair on some part of their bodies, in having teeth at some time in their lives, and in feeding the young with milk. But there are many, many kinds of mammals, of different shapes and sizes and colors. There are all sorts of babies, from the tiny mouse that could sleep in an eggshell to the big baby whale, twice as long as an ox. Some can swim like fishes; others can fly like birds. Some dig homes under the ground; others make their nests in hollow trees or caves. Some live in the mountains and some on the plains. Some live in the woods and some in the sea. Some eat grass, and others eat flesh; some eat nuts, some eat fruit, and some eat anything they can find.

Many of the mammals are alike in some ways. Squirrels and mice have strong teeth to gnaw with; the cow and elk eat grass and chew a cud, and the bear, wolf, and fox eat flesh.

Those mammals that are most alike are said to belong to the same order. For example, every animal with hoofs belongs to the Order of Hoofed Mammals. Every animal with four gnawing teeth in the front of its mouth belongs to the Order of Gnawing Mammals. Every animal that lives on flesh belongs to the Order of Flesh-Eating Mammals.

There are eleven of these groups, but the animals of North America belong to only eight of them. All the animals in the first group have pouches or pockets, of their own skin, in which to carry the young. The opossum belongs to this Order of Pouched Mammals. When he is a baby he is carried around in his mother’s furry pocket. Later he learns to hang by his feet and tail to a branch while he eats fruit. At night he trots through the woods and roots for insects with his pointed nose.

The manatee belongs to the Order of Sea-Cows. Sea-Cows are fishlike creatures that eat vegetable food in the sea or in rivers. The fat baby manatee lies in his mother’s arms as she balances herself on the end of her tail in the water. He learns to crawl about on the sandy bottom and munch water-plants.

The whale belongs to the Order of Whales. Though he lives in the deep ocean and looks like a monstrous fish, he is really a mammal. He has warm blood and a few bristles for hair. The baby whale is fed on milk at first. When he grows older he is taught to catch and eat water animals.

The wapiti, called the American elk, belongs to the Order of Hoofed Four-Foots. They eat grass and chew the cud. The story of an elk roaming over the mountains is almost the same as the story of any of the swift deer family.

The beaver and the squirrel and the rabbit belong to the Order of Gnawers. The beaver cuts down trees with his strong teeth, and builds dams and houses of sticks. The squirrel scampers along the branches, and sits up to nibble nuts in the shadow of his own bushy tail. The rabbit scuttles over the ground from one hiding-place to another, in his daily search for green grass and tender twigs to eat. Rats and mice are also Gnawers. Indeed, there are many more animals in this Order than in any of the others.

The bear and the wolf and the fox belong to the Order of Flesh Eaters. They are all mighty hunters. The swift wolf, the tricky fox, and the strong-armed bear all have many long, cutting teeth to tear their prey to pieces.

The mole belongs to the Order of Insect-Eaters. He lives underground, and learns to dig with his shovel-like hands. When his pointed teeth grow out he chases worms up and down and around, and gobbles them as fast as he can.

The bats belong to the Order of Wing-Handed Mammals. The baby bat is rocked to sleep in his mother’s wings. He learns to fly in the dark and to hunt the swift insects that hover above the roads and ponds. When winter is near he finds a gloomy cave. There he hangs, head downward, by the hooks on his claws, and sleeps till spring brings the warm weather again.

It is now countless years since the earth was new. It has changed from a bare, hot gloomy ball, covered with black rocks and muddy water, to a green, beautiful world. There are all kinds of living things in the ocean. In the forests insects hum above the flowers; birds fly from branch to branch; reptiles crawl beside the rivers. And everywhere—in the air and beneath the ground, on the land and under the water—live the mammals.

The opossum is the one with a pocket. The manatee is the only eater of grass in the sea. The whale is the biggest of all animals. The elk is the handsomest of the swift deer family. The beaver is the best builder. The squirrel has the prettiest tail. The rabbit is the most hunted by all its hungry enemies. The bear is the surliest one. The wolf is the fiercest. The fox is the shrewdest. The mole can dig better and faster than any of the others.

I

THE OPOSSUM

“THE ONE WITH A POCKET”

_Wilderness Babies_

THE ONE WITH A POCKET

FOR days and days the new baby opossums lay crowded close together in their mother’s furry pocket. They slept and drank milk, and grew and grew till their eyes began to open. It was dark all around them, but up above their heads a faint gray line showed where light was stealing in over the edge of the pocket.

The biggest baby opossum looked and looked with his little bright eyes. He wanted to see more. So up he crawled, clambering over the soft, tiny bodies of the eleven other babies. Some of them wriggled and squirmed under his bare little feet. After slipping back once or twice he reached the edge and poked his pointed white snout outside.

He could not see anything because he was under his mother, and her long fur hung down over him. She was lying on a nest of grasses in a hollow tree. That was where she stayed all day long when the sun was shining without. Every night at dusk she climbed down the rough trunk and went to hunt for something to eat.

When she felt the tiny claws of her baby clutching her fur she looked down between her fore-paws at the little mouse-like fellow. Then with her smooth pink hands she gently pushed him back into the pocket and closed the opening. He was not big enough yet to come out of the warm, dark nursery.

So for a week longer he cuddled down beside the others, while they all slept and drank more milk and grew stronger every hour. The biggest baby was so restless that he scrambled around and crowded the others. Once he caught hold of another’s tail between the thumbs and fingers of his hind-feet, and pulled till the little one squeaked. His fore-feet were like tiny hands without any thumbs.

At last, one day, he saw the edge of the pocket open a crack. He was so glad that he climbed up as fast as he could scramble, and pushed outside. He held on to his mother’s fur with all four feet. When she reached down to smell him the bristles on her lips tickled his nose. Then he climbed around upon her back and twisted his tail about hers to hold him steady.

He looked like a mouse, with his long tail, his black ears erect, his bright eyes twinkling in his little white face, and his pointed nose sniffing at the strange odors in the hollow tree. It was much lighter there than inside the pocket. Higher up over his head there was a hole leading out of the hollow. Queer small shadows were dancing and flickering across the opening. He did not know that they were only green leaves.

In a few minutes another and another baby followed the big brother and clung there on the mother’s furry back. It must have seemed a noisy place to them, for while in the pocket they had noticed only the softest muffled rustling and scratching of the old one’s feet in the nest. Now they could hear a chirping and a squeaking and a rattling of branches. They crowded close together in fright at the scream of a blue jay, as it chased a chattering red squirrel through the tree-top. Then a sudden loud thump-thump-thump of a woodpecker hammering on the bark outside sent them scuttling back to the safe nursery in a tumbling hurry.

After this the whole family climbed out every day to play about on the mother’s back. The biggest baby liked to curl his small tail about her large one, and then swing off head downward. Sometimes he pushed the others down just for the fun of seeing them scramble up again, hand over hand, clutching the long fur.

Of course he was the first one to poke his head out every day. Once he woke from a nap in the pocket and started to climb outside. But he stopped half-way, hanging to the edge with both fore-feet. It was nearly evening, and the old mother opossum was clambering down the trunk to go hunting for her supper.

The baby held on tightly, while she trotted away through the woods. Now and then a leaf rustled or a stick cracked under her feet. Sleepy birds were twittering in their nests. The mother pricked her ears and listened, for she ate eggs and young birds whenever she could find them within reach. She had not tasted an egg this spring, because she could not climb very nimbly with her pocket full of babies.

Presently she came to a swamp, and splash, splash, splash! the mud went flying. It spattered the baby’s white face and made him sputter and cough. Then he heard the dreadful croaking of hundreds of frogs. In a terrible fright he slid back into the nursery to hide beside the others.

The old one was trying to catch a frog to eat. Now she jumped this way, and now she jumped that way. Such a jostling as the babies felt when she finally gave a great spring for a big green fellow sitting on a log. She caught him, too, but the jolt almost knocked the breath out of the twelve soft little bodies in her pocket.

On another evening the babies awoke to find themselves swinging to and fro in dizzying jerks. They rolled and tumbled from side to side. They bumped their heads and noses against one another. When the biggest baby tried to push his way out he found the edge of the pocket close shut. Though he scratched and squeaked the mother did not open it. She was afraid that they would all fall to the ground, for there she was hanging upside-down by her tail to a branch of the tree.

Down below on the ground a big black bear was hugging the trunk and shaking it as hard as he could. He was trying to shake the old opossum off so that he might catch her and eat the whole family. But she held on so long that finally he became tired of waiting. So away he walked to find something else for supper. Then the mother swung down to the nest in the hollow and rested there while her babies played around her.

Every day the babies stayed outside the nursery for a longer time, though they were always ready to scurry back at the mother’s first warning grunt. They kept growing bigger, till one night they found that they could not all crowd into the pocket. Then they huddled together on her back, with their tails twisted around hers.

In this way they rode through the woods when she went hunting. They watched with their bright eyes while she turned over rotting logs with her snout to catch the grubs underneath. Sometimes she rooted in the ground for sprouting acorns, or nipped off mouthfuls of tender grass. Once she caught a young rabbit. Then how excited the little opossums were! And how they all squeaked and hissed together as they rode trotting home!

By this time they had cut their teeth,—fifty sharp little teeth in each hungry mouth. It was time for them to be weaned. When they tried to drink milk the mother pushed them away. Then she picked some sweet red berries, and taught the hungry babies how to eat them. They learned to chew the juicy roots that she dug in the fields.

The babies were greedy little things. When the old one caught a mouse or a mole or a toad, the young ones all rushed and snatched. Once the biggest baby gobbled up a beetle before the others could get a taste. They were so angry that they tried to bite his nose and ears. He squeaked, and ran as fast as he could to hide under the mother.

She was a good and patient mother. Of course, as long as they were small enough to stay in her pocket she carried them everywhere with her. Even when they grew as large as rats they rode on her back through the woods. These twelve fat babies were so heavy that sometimes she staggered and stumbled under the load.

One night, when all the babies were trotting along on their own feet, they saw two gleaming red eyes in the dark thicket before them. Something round and furry snarled and sprang at them. They all ran under their mother as quick as a wink. She ruffled her long grayish hair above them. When the animal jumped at her she growled and hissed and scratched and bit furiously, till he ran limping away into the shadowy wilderness.

On another evening a big dog came galloping up before they could scramble into a tree. His red tongue was hanging out of his mouth between his white teeth. As soon as he caught sight of the opossums he made a dash to catch them. Instantly they all fell down and rolled over, just as if they were dead.

There they lay, with their eyes shut, their paws limber, their tails limp. They seemed to stop breathing. The dog smelled them and pushed them with his cold nose. But they kept perfectly still and did not move even an eyelash. They were pretending to be dead. It was the one trick that they all knew without being taught.

The minute the dog walked away up they all jumped and scampered into a tree as fast as they could scurry. When the dog turned his head and saw them he ran back and leaped up to reach them. But all the opossums were safe enough now. While he was jumping and barking below they clung fast in the tree with their hand-like feet. They wound their tails about the branches above to hold more securely.

The little opossums learned to climb all sorts of trees, rough or smooth. It was easier to climb the rough trees because they could dig their nails farther into the bark. The biggest baby could walk along the springiest limb, even if it kept teetering up and down in the wind. When he felt like it he swung by his tail for the longest time without getting dizzy.

All summer long the twelve little opossums stayed with their mother. During the day they slept cuddled in the hollow tree. The old father opossum never came home, for the mother had driven him away before the babies were born. She wanted all the room in the nest for them. She could take care of them better than he could, because she was bigger and knew how to fight her enemies more fiercely. Every night, after sunset, the mother and her twelve children set off on their hunting. Down through the woods to the marsh they trotted. There some waded into the mud to catch frogs, while others chased mud-turtles over the shore. Some hunted for berries and others nosed for acorns under the oaks.

It was beautiful there in the woods at night. When the stars twinkled overhead and the soft wind rustled in the tree-tops the little ones frisked and frolicked. They hid under the shadowy bushes or jumped hither and thither to snap at the fluttering moths. But on stormy evenings they plodded on in the rain, their wet fur drooping. With their noses close to the ground they hunted till they found a few mouthfuls to eat. Then back to the cosy hollow for a longer nap, after licking their pink hands clean and washing their white faces, just as kittens do.

One night, in autumn, the old mother opossum felt the nip of frost in the air. Then she knew that the persimmons were ready to be eaten. Away through the woods she hurried, with the young ones trotting after her. Past the marsh and over the blackberry hills she led the way to a thicket of trees tangled with wild grapevines. There above on the branches the round little persimmons were shining yellow in the moonlight.

Up the trees eleven of the babies scrambled hungrily, and, hanging by their tails, stuffed the fruit into their wide mouths. Ah! but wasn’t it delicious! Better than anything they had ever tasted before in all their short lives! Then the biggest baby, who had stopped to gobble ripe grapes, heard them munching so greedily. One look sent him clambering after the others. He was sorry enough that he had wasted any time eating wild grapes.

Night after night, till the persimmons were gone, the opossums hurried away to the thicket, and ate and ate till they could eat no longer. They grew so fat that they puffed and panted when trotting home again in the gray light of frosty dawn.

As the weather grew colder the opossums roamed farther through the woods in search of food. Once in a while one of them found a pawpaw-tree. Then from far and near opossums gathered under the low wide-spreading branches to feast on the banana-shaped fruit. That was the last good dinner that the little fellows had for many weeks.

Soon the ground was frozen hard over the juicy roots. All the fruit left in the woods hung wrinkled and frost-bitten. The worms and toads crawled into their holes for the winter. The beetles disappeared, and the spiders curled up in their hiding-places to sleep through the cold weather. Most of the birds flew away south.

One by one each little opossum wandered off by himself, and made a nest in a cosy hole or a snug hollow stump. There he drowsed away the days, and often slept through the nights without stirring out. Now and then one of them caught a mouse or dug up a frozen root to nibble. Sometimes they tore rotten logs apart to get at the torpid grubs within. The biggest baby found a heap of nuts hidden away under a stone by a thrifty chipmunk.

In the beginning of the winter the little opossums were so fat that they could live three or four weeks without eating or drinking. When the cold winds blew, and the snow fell silently, they cuddled down in their warm nests and slept the time away. But many a night they woke up hungry. And every day their round furry bodies were a little thinner, till at last spring melted the snow and ice everywhere.

There was plenty to eat by that time, with all the green things growing. The little creatures of the woods and ponds were waking to new life. There were buds to nibble and beetles to catch. There was many a nest of birds’ eggs, too, and broods of tender young field-mice squeaking in the grass. There were frogs croaking in the marsh, and berries were ripening in the fields.

The twelve little opossums were grown up now, and knew how to take care of themselves. Their mother had another family of babies in her furry pocket. Sometimes she met her other children roaming beside the marsh to catch frogs. One evening they saw, just as plain as anything, a little pointed nose and two twinkling bright eyes peeping over the edge of her pocket.

II

THE MANATEE

“THE ONE THAT EATS GRASS IN THE SEA”

THE ONE THAT EATS GRASS IN THE SEA

DOWN among the lily-leaves, under the river, the baby manatee was being rocked to sleep on his mother’s breast. He looked like a roly-poly fish, with a puffy dog-face. He was covered all over from his broad tail to his round head with thick and wrinkly gray skin. His tiny eyes were shut, and his flippers were folded together as he slept.

The old mother manatee held him close to her, bending her short flippers, which were really her arms. The fingers at the ends of her hands were so hidden under the skin that they looked as if covered with mittens. She was balancing herself on the end of her tail, and swaying gently to and fro in the water.

The baby’s nap did not last very long. One of the annoying things about being a manatee and living under water was the trouble in breathing. Every two or three minutes the mother flapped her tail and rose to the top of the river to breathe. That always woke the baby. He opened his eyes, blinking in the bright sunlight.

All around him the water sparkled and dimpled in the sunshine. Here and there dragon-flies glittered as they skimmed over the ripples. Butterflies were fluttering over the golden centres of the floating lilies. Graceful reeds bordered the shore. The juicy grass, that manatees love to eat, grew green, trailing underneath. Far up above it all the summer sky was blue.

The baby manatee did not seem to care for all these beautiful sights. Very likely he could not see well above water, and he did not enjoy the dry, warm feeling of the air. His sense of smell must have been too dull to notice the fragrance of the lilies or the spicy scent from the swamp. Creatures living under water do not use their noses much.

But the little manatee could hear the least soft plop of a leaf falling in the river. The sudden splash of a frog’s jump made him squirm and twist in terror. He wriggled out of his mother’s hold, and sank down, down, down, with the bubbles eddying over his roly-poly body.