Part 5

The squirrels loved to be clean. Ever since they were tiny babies, with their new red fur, they always helped one another with washing their faces, and combing their tails with their claws. They were careful to run along logs over a muddy spot. If one happened to get wet he dried himself with his fluffy tail.

When they were tired of eating seeds and twigs they hunted for grubs. Clinging to the bark of a dead tree they listened till they heard something gnawing beneath the surface ever so softly. Then, tearing off the bark in ragged pieces, they pounced upon the flat whitish grub beneath and ate it up. They were fond of mushrooms, too, and seemed to know which were poisonous and which were good to eat.

But the best time of all came in the autumn when nuts were ripe. Then what fun the little squirrels had! Early every morning out popped the little heads from the hollow stumps and logs. The big round eyes twinkled eagerly in every direction. Then, whisk! they were out, with a bark and a squeak! Scampering to the top of a tree each one took a flying leap to a branch of the next. Up and down, on and across, they followed the squirrel-paths through the woods till they reached the grove, where the nuts were ripening.

It was a busy place, with little wings fluttering and little feet pattering, and yellow leaves drifting down in the sunshine. All the squirrels scurried to and fro, picking one nut here, and another there. They sat on the branches, with their bushy tails curving over their backs, and held the nuts in their fore-paws to nibble. The smallest baby could open the hardest walnut, and clean it out in less than a minute. In the oddest way he seemed to know exactly where to bore through the shell so as to strike the broad side of the kernel.

All the while the blue jays and the thrifty chipmunks were gathering nuts and corn, and hiding their stores away for the winter. That seemed so interesting that the squirrels gathered some too. The smallest one stuffed his cheeks full of nuts and scampered back to his latest home in a hollow stump. The next mouthful he brought was hidden in a fork of a tree and covered with leaves. Then he tucked away a few chestnuts in the cracks of the bark on an oak-tree. By that time he was tired of working at this, so he scurried around to find out how many nuts the other young squirrels were saving for the winter.

Autumn passed away, and the days grew colder. In the woods the leaves were all fallen and the branches were stripped bare of nuts. Every morning when the squirrels poked out their heads the air nipped their noses. Frost sparkled on the dead grass. The chipmunks had crept into their holes for the winter, and most of the birds had flown away south.

The squirrels were not quite so gay now as in the autumn days, when they danced upon the branches and whistled and chuckled over the good things to eat and the curious sights to see. They slept with their warm tails wrapped over their noses. They still ran busily through the tree-tops, except when snow or icy rain kept them shut within their holes. They ate all the nuts they could find, and dug up the buried pine-cones. They climbed the hemlock-trees and ate the seeds. Sometimes they found a delicious frozen apple or some forgotten acorns. Once the smallest squirrel happened to dig up a heap of chestnuts from between two stones under the snow. He could not remember whether he had hidden them himself or not. How he snickered and danced when he saw them!

Late in the winter the squirrels had eaten all the nuts and cones within reach. They were so hungry on many a day that they tried to creep into a chipmunk’s hole and steal his store of food. However he was smaller than they were, and he had wisely made one bend in his tunnel too small for them to pass. Then they had to live on buds and barks and seeds as best they could till spring started the tender green plants to growing.

The squirrels gnawed the bark of the maple-trees and drank the sweet sap that came oozing out. Later there were elm buds to nibble and birds’ eggs to suck. The woods were once more green with juicy leaves. All the squirrels went to housekeeping. Soon in almost every tree there was a new family of wondering little squirrels peeping out of their hollow with their round, bright eyes.

VIII

THE BEAR

“ONE THAT SLEEPS ALL WINTER”

ONE THAT SLEEPS ALL WINTER

OUT in the woods the snow fell deeper and deeper. It piled higher and higher around the hollow tree in which the mother bear and her two little bears were sleeping. The snow had drifted over the opening and made it all dark inside.

Once in a while the two babies woke up and whimpered for more milk, as they tumbled clumsily about on the bed of leaves. Then the old bear opened her sleepy eyes and licked their glossy little black bodies while she nursed them. After that they all fell drowsily quiet again, and slept and slept.

So the weeks slipped away while the babies sucked milk, or slept, snuggled close to their big, warm, furry mother. She had been sleeping all winter. The autumn before she had crept into the hollow tree to stay until spring. She did not eat a mouthful in all that time.

Now as the days grew warmer outside the old mother bear began to feel more wide awake. One morning she pawed a hole through the snow at the opening of the hollow and crawled out to find something to eat. The two little bears had their eyes open at last. They lay still on the nest and blinked at the light that shone dimly in through the hole.

Now and then they heard the soft plop of a bunch of snow dropping from the evergreen trees in the woods. The bare branches of the aspens clicked together in the March wind. They heard the gurgle of water lapping over melting ice. The tap-tap-tap of a woodpecker on the bark of their hollow tree sounded like thunder inside. Once a red squirrel ran squeaking over the snow outside.

Before very long they heard footsteps thumping softly up to the hole, and their mother’s big black body came scrambling in. The two cubs whined for joy, and rubbed against her legs. They were hungry again, and wanted their dinner. The thin old bear had not found much to eat herself. It was too early in the year for berries, and the ants were still in their underground homes. She had caught a frog in the brook, and found a few blades of grass to munch.

After that she went out every day, for it seemed as if she grew hungrier and hungrier. Once she found a frozen deer. After eating all she could of it she covered the rest with leaves until the next day. Sometimes she caught a chipmunk under a log. It was only in the early spring that the old black bear ate much meat, for usually she liked fruit and roots and nuts better.

Meanwhile the two little bears stayed safe in the den till their teeth were cut and the claws grew sharp and strong. Then they played outside for a little every day. They wrestled together and tumbled about in the sunshine, like clumsy puppies. They were careful not to creep too far away from the den. At any strange sound or smell away they scampered head first into the hole, with their little wrinkled black feet kicking out behind them.

At last they were strong enough to set out on their travels with the old mother. Very likely she gave them each a good washing and combing before they started. She could use her fore-paws like hands. When the cubs squealed and tried to bite, while she was brushing them, she slapped them with her big paw. She could use her paws for digging, and for carrying food to her mouth. With the sharp claws she could tear meat or logs to pieces.

The two little ones must have been delighted to think of leaving the tiresome den in the hollow tree. Like all bears they loved to travel. Down the valley they ambled, stepping clumsily on the flat soles of their feet. Bears do not walk lightly on their toes, as do the graceful animals who belong to the cat family.

The old mother moved on with her head held low, while the babies waddled after her. They did not look around much at the wonderful mountains, with the dark evergreens and rocks scattered over the yellow gravel. They did not notice the blue sky above, for their close-set eyes were rather nearsighted. Though they could not see very well they sniffed keenly at every strange smell.

There were many new delicious smells of warm earth and green plants and furry rabbits and squirrels and birds and strawberry blossoms. The cubs imitated their mother in everything she did. They stepped in the same foot-tracks, and jumped over the same logs at the same places. Whenever she stopped to sniff they rose on their little hind-legs and twitched their pointed brown noses in the air.

Once they came to a footprint in the gravel. It was a footprint of a grizzly bear ever so much bigger than the old black bear. The cubs looked at their mother to see how she was acting. Then they copied her. They drew back their lips from their white teeth and growled baby growls, while their little eyes gleamed, and the hairs on their backs ruffled up stiffly. Grizzlies sometimes killed black bears.

Soon they reached the spruce grove where the red ants lived. Scattered over the gravel there were rounded hills, with tiny red creatures hurrying in and out of their holes, and around and to and fro. The little bears looked at the ants and then watched their mother as she sat down beside a hill and licked up a mouthful. After a minute down they sat, and scraped their pointed tongues over the ant-hills.

The ants tasted as sour as vinegar, and made the young ones wrinkle their noses just at first, because they were used to drinking sweet milk. More than once a fierce little ant gave a nipping bite to the red tongues that squirmed over the gravel. That made the babies squeal, and rub their mouths with their paws. When some ants crawled up on their fur the bears licked them off without getting any gravel mixed in.

As the morning sunshine grew warmer the cubs began to feel tired and sleepy. It had been such an exciting day ever since starting out from the old den at sunrise! The mother walked off to a shady spot under thick evergreens, and they all curled down for a nap. The babies snuggled close together, curling their paws and tucking their noses into their fur. Closing their eyes, while their fat little sides heaved in a long sigh of content, they fell fast asleep. Those ants had tasted so good!

Very early every morning the two cubs set off with their mother to find something to eat. In the heat of the day they took a nap. Late in the afternoon they went out again and feasted till dark, or even later, when berries were plenty. Sometimes they slept in a hollow log, or in a cave, or in a sheltered thicket.

Before lying down the old bear was always careful to walk several hundred yards in the same direction in which the wind was blowing. If any enemy happened to follow their trail while they were asleep they could smell him in the wind and get away in time. One night they really did smell a wolf coming nearer and nearer. They stole off through the woods. The old mother showed the cubs how to step softly, setting down each big padded foot where it broke no stick and rustled no leaf.

The bears learned to eat all sorts of food. There were the delightfully sour ants in their hills or hidden under rocks and old logs. The cubs soon grew strong enough to turn over the rocks and logs for themselves. Leaning on one fore-leg, each little fellow raised the stone with the other fore-leg, and gave it a shove backward, so that it would not fall on his toes. Away rolled the stone, and down went the greedy head to lick up every ant in sight. Then a sweep of a paw uncovered the beetles and worms and crickets that had run to hide deeper. Sometimes the old mother gripped her claws in both sides of a rotten log and tore it open. The little bears gobbled up the worms and insects inside as fast as they could.

All the spring and early summer the three bears hunted for worms and insects in this way. They dug up wild roots with their noses, just as pigs do. One day the cubs smelled a delicious smell near a flat stone. They hurried to push the stone away, and there they found a heap of nuts. They stuffed their mouths full at once, while the little chipmunk, to whom the nuts belonged, squeaked angrily at them from under a heavy rock.

Later in the summer the berries were ripe. That was the time for little bears to be happy! First the fragrant red strawberries grew red in the fields. The berries were so small, and the hungry mouths were so large, that many a bite was mixed with leaves and grass. However, the cubs did not object to that, even when a fat white grub or two was pulled up with the roots of the strawberry plants.

After the strawberries other berries ripened along the bank of the river at the edge of the woods. The mother bear knew just where the biggest ones grew. Many a happy day they spent picking the fruit. When the weather was cloudy and cool they did not stop for naps. Each one walked along from bush to bush, raising his head and wrapping his tongue around a branch. Then with a downward pull he stripped off leaves and berries and all, and munched and munched. They could stand on their hind-feet to reach the higher branches.

The bears had broad grinding teeth in the sides of their jaws, and so they could chew their food. Animals like the cat and the dog have only cutting teeth. They tear their food into pieces small enough to swallow, and then gulp it down without chewing.

At noon they went down to the river for a drink. First they snuffed around carefully, and then lapped up the water. If the day was very warm the cubs waded in and lay down to cool off. Sometimes the old mother took her nap lying in the water. Once in a while they caught a frog or a live fish by giving a jump and quick slap before it could swim away.

In late summer the wild plums ripened in the woods. The old bear shook the trees and sent the red fruit hailing down upon the scrambling cubs. On one specially delightful day they found a hollow tree in which bees had been storing honey for the winter.

They saw the bees buzzing around a hole high up on the trunk. One of the cubs climbed up. Wrapping his hind-legs around the tree he held on with one fore-paw, while with the other he dipped out the honey and stuffed it into his mouth. All about him the air was gray with bees. They stung him on his nose and ears and eyelids. He did not mind that much, except when one bit his tongue. Then he thrust out his tongue and mumbled and growled for a moment. He had never before eaten anything so delicious as honey.

After the pleasant summer came the frosty autumn with its ripening nuts. The cubs climbed trees and sat on the branches, with their black legs dangling. The old bear shook the trees to bring down the nuts. Once she shook so hard that one of the little bears lost his hold and fell. He tumbled down in such a limp soft heap that he was not hurt at all, but bounded up again like a rubber ball.

At another time the mother saw a big grizzly bear coming through the woods. When the cubs heard her warning grunt they shot up the tree like jumping-jacks, and hid in the thick leaves near the top. There they were safe, for the grizzly was too heavy, and its claws were too long, for climbing. Grizzly bears are the largest beasts of prey in the world. Sometimes when very hungry they will eat their cousins, the black bears.

The days kept growing colder little by little, and twilight came a few minutes sooner every evening. The air was frosty at night, and somehow the three bears felt drowsier and drowsier. Their naps lasted longer every afternoon. On some cold days they curled up on dry ledges in the sunshine and slept from morning to night. They were sleek and fat from their feasts of acorns and nuts.

All this while the old mother bear was becoming more and more cross. When the cubs tried to play with her she slapped them, and pushed them away whimpering. It was time for them to take care of themselves. Very likely she did not want to be bothered with them all winter long.

So one day the two little bears walked off by themselves. They roamed through the woods, looking for some place which would be a warm den. One of them dug a cosy hole under a big root and curled down for his winter’s sleep. The other crept between two rocks that almost touched over his head.

Outside the snow began to fall. It blew in through the cracks and powdered down upon the little bear’s thick fur. Very soon it had stuffed all the cracks and drifted higher over the rocks and logs. It went whirling from the ledges into the valleys; it fell deeper and deeper over the three dens and shut out the cold.

The little bears breathed more and more slowly, with their noses warm in their furry fore-arms. Their little fat sides rose and fell ever so faintly. Their hearts beat more softly. They were fast asleep for the winter, while the snow fell and the icy winds blew on the mountains without.

IX

THE FOX

“THE WISEST ONE”

THE WISEST ONE

ALMOST the first thing that the smallest baby fox remembered was being carried in his mother’s mouth from one den to another. His woolly little red body hung limp between her long white teeth. That was the safest way; for if he had held stiff or wriggled she might have closed her jaws tighter and pinched him.

It was very early in the morning, and the rising sun was just lighting up the tops of the trees. The birds were singing their gayest May songs. Here and there dewdrops sparkled, where the level sunbeams glinted across the leaves. Under a bush a rabbit sat up very still, and stared with round, frightened eyes at the mother fox.

The mother fox did not see the rabbit. She stepped along swiftly. Her slender paws hardly rustled a leaf or snapped a twig. She looked like a graceful red dog, with pointed ears and yellow eyes and beautiful plumy tail. This plumy tail seemed to float out in the air behind her, as if she were blowing lightly before the wind.

When she reached the new den she did not stop an instant at the front door. The freshly dug earth was scattered around there in plain sight. In digging this new burrow she and the father fox had left the dirt there on purpose, to make their enemies think that this hole was the real entrance to the den. A few feet underground they had closed the tunnel with a heap of earth. At the other end they had made a new opening hidden behind gray rocks in a thicket.

To this secret door the mother fox carried the baby, and set him down on his four thick legs. He looked like a little red lamb with yellow eyes. Into the hole he scrambled, and crept through the tunnel to the dark den at the end. On the nest of leaves inside he found his four brothers and sisters snuggling together. The old mother had carried them there one by one.

The day before, when a big dog came nosing about the old den, the father fox led him away through the woods. He could run the faster, and so he kept on, with the dog chasing him, till the dog was tired out. Then he and the mother hurried to dig this new den and move the babies before the dog came back to the old place again.

In going from one den to the other the old foxes were careful not to walk in a straight path. If they did that of course the dog could follow them by smelling their trail. They took a roundabout path every time. They trotted around a swampy meadow and crossed a brook by stepping from stone to stone. The wet ground hid the scent of their paws.

This journey to the new den was the first time that the young foxes had been outdoors. As they were carried by the neck they could not twist their heads around to see very much. But still, they must have enjoyed the light and the fresh air. They did not want to keep on staying all the time in the dark den. So early one morning they came scrambling out after their mother.

The smallest baby fox crawled out last of all. For a moment he stood very quiet on all four paws. Then he sat down and cocked his little head on one side while he looked around. The old father was lying down in the sunlight just outside the thicket. Two of the babies trotted over to him and began to play with his tail. Two others climbed upon the mother’s back and pushed each other off. There they wrestled, rolling over and over in each other’s paws.

The smallest baby wanted to make the others pay him some attention. He lifted his sharp little black nose and opened his mouth and began to bark—bow-wow-wow, bow-wow-wow—till the others stopped playing. They came running over to ask what was the matter. He told them something in the fox language by rubbing his cool wet nose against theirs. Then they all five trotted about and explored the thicket by smelling of everything within reach.

They poked their noses into the grass and against the trees and bushes and over every stick and stone and leaf on the ground. To their keen nostrils everything had a different smell. When the smallest baby smelled a stick he could tell which little brother or sister had been smelling it just before him.

As the sun rose higher and the air grew warmer the little fellows sat down and rested, with their tongues lolling out of their mouths. Like all foxes and wolves and dogs they perspired through the tongue and the soles of their feet. After a while the mother gave a low growl to say that it was time to go back into the den. In they scampered head first, and curled up for a nap, with their fluffy tails over their noses.

When the babies cut their teeth the mother stopped feeding them with milk. After that she and the father fox were kept busy hunting for food for the hungry young ones. Sometimes they hunted in the daytime as well as at night. Oftener, however, the old mother stayed near the den to keep guard when the little foxes came out to play every afternoon.

Such fun as the five little ones had together! They ran round and round, chasing their tails. One hid behind a tuft of grass and jumped out to scare the others. Another climbed upon a rock and then was afraid to slide down. One went rolling down a small hill while another capered beside him and pretended to snap at him.

Once the smallest baby saw a grasshopper whizz past. He saw where it was hiding under a leaf. He crouched down as low as he could and crept toward it. Without making a noise he crawled from bush to stone, from stone to tuft of weeds, till he was near enough to spring and catch it in his paws. All the others ran to see what he had caught. The mother came, too, from the place where she had been watching him. She was proud of him because he was learning to hunt while so young.

As evening came on and the shadows lengthened under the trees the mother fox sent the babies into the den and walked away to hunt for a supper. The smallest fox happened to be the last one in. He turned when just inside and poked his pointed nose out to watch her as she trotted away into the woods.

A few hours later, when they heard her low call at the mouth of the burrow, out they came tumbling. Sometimes she had a rabbit hanging in her mouth, with its long legs on one side and its long ears on the other. Sometimes she had a young turkey thrown over her shoulders, or a fringe of field-mice hanging by the tails from her lips. Once she brought a wood-chuck, and at another time a string of little chickens held by the necks.