The Burgess Animal Book for Children
by Thornton W. Burgess · English · Gutenberg #2441 · 431,080 chars · public domain (US)
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Title: The Burgess Animal Book for Children
Author: Thornton W. Burgess
Release date: December 1, 2000 [eBook #2441]
Most recently updated: March 10, 2018
Language: English
Other information and formats: www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/2441
Credits: Produced by Eve Sobol and David Widger
*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE BURGESS ANIMAL BOOK FOR CHILDREN ***
Produced by Eve Sobol
THE BURGESS ANIMAL BOOK FOR CHILDREN
By Thornton W. Burgess
TO THE CAUSE OF WILD LIFE IN AMERICA, ESPECIALLY THE MAMMALS MANY OF WHICH ARE
SERIOUSLY THREATENED WITH EXTINCTION, THIS BOOK IS DEDICATED.
PREFACE
The cordial reception given the Burgess Bird Book for Children,
together with numerous letters to the author asking for information
on the habits and characteristics of many of the mammals of
America, led to the preparation of this volume. It is offered
merely as an introduction to the four-footed friends, little and
big, which form so important a part of the wild life of the United
States and Canada.
There has been no attempt to describe or classify sub-species.
That is for the scientist and student with specific interests.
The purpose of this book is to acquaint the reader with the
larger groups--orders, families, and divisions of the latter,
so that typical representatives may be recognized and their
habits understood.
Instead of the word mammal, the word animal has been used
throughout as having a better defined meaning to the average
child. A conscientious effort to avoid technical terms and
descriptions has been made that there may be nothing to confuse
the young mind. Clarity and simplicity have been the objects
kept constantly in view.
At the same time the utmost care to be accurate in the smallest
details has been exercised. To this end the works of leading
authorities on American mammals have been carefully consulted
and compared. No statements which are not confirmed by two or
more naturalists of recognized standing have been made.
In this research work the writings of Audubon and Bachman, Dr. E.W.
Neson, Dr. C. Hart Merriam, Dr. W.T. Hornaday, Ernest Thompson Seton
and others, together with the bulletins of the Biological Survey of
the Department of Agriculture at Washington, have been of the
greatest value. I herewith acknowledge my debt to these.
Whatever the text may lack in clearness of description will be
amply compensated for by the wonderful drawings in color and
black-an-white by Mr. Louis Agassiz Fuertes, the artist-naturalist,
whose hearty cooperation has been a source of great help to me.
These drawings were made especially for this book and add in no
small degree to such value as it may possess.
If the reading of these pages shall lead even a few to an active
interest in our wild animals, stimulating a desire to preserve
and protect a priceless heritage from the past which a heedless
present threatens through wanton and reckless waste to deny the
future, the labor will have been well worth while.
Only through intimate acquaintance may understanding of the animals
in their relations to each other and to man be attained. To serve
as a medium for this purpose this book has been written. As such
I offer it to the children of America, conscious of its
shortcomings yet hopeful that it will prove of some value in
acquainting them with their friends and mine--the animals of field
and wood, of mountain and desert, in the truest sense the first
citizens of America.
THORNTON W. BURGESS
CONTENTS
CHAPTER I JENNY WREN GIVES PETER RABBIT AN IDEA
Peter arranges to go to school to Old Mother Nature.
II PETER AND JUMPER GO TO SCHOOL
The Cottontail Rabbit, Northern Hare and Marsh Rabbit.
III MORE OF PETER'S LONG-LEGGED COUSINS
The Swamp Hare, Arctic Hare, Prairie Hare, Antelope
Jack and common Jack Rabbit.
IV CHATTERER AND HAPPY JACK JOIN
The Squirrel family and order of Rodents.
V THE SQUIRRELS OF THE TREES
The Red, Gray, Fox, Kaibab and Abert Squirrels.
VI STRIPED CHIPMUNK AND HIS COUSINS
The Chipmunk, Spermophiles, and Flying Squirrel.
VII JOHNNY CHUCK JOINS THE CLASS
The Woodchuck and his ways.
VIII WHISTLER AND YAP YAP
The Whistling or Hoary Marmot and Prairie Dogs.
IX TWO QUEER LITTLE HAYMAKERS
The Pika or Cony and the Mountain Beaver or Sewellel.
X PRICKLY PORKY AND GRUBBY GOPHER
Introducing the Porcupine and Pocket Gopher.
XI A FELLOW WITH A THOUSAND SPEARS
More about the Porcupine.
XII A LUMBERMAN AND ENGINEER
The Beaver and his works.
XIII A WORKER AND A ROBBER
The Muskrat and the Brown or Norway Rat.
XIV A TRADER AND A HANDSOME FELLOW
The Cotton Rat, Wood or Pack Rat and the Kangaroo Rat.
XV TWO UNLIKE LITTLE COUSINS
Whitefoot the Wood or Deer Mouse and Danny Meadow
Mouse, also called Field Mouse.
XVI DANNY'S NORTHERN COUSINS, AND NIMBLEHEELS
The Banded and Brown Lemmings and the Jumping Mouse.
XVII THREE LITTLE REDCOATS AND SOME OTHERS
The Pine Mouse, Red-backed Mouse, Rufous Tree Mouse,
Rock Mouse and Beach Mouse.
XVIII MICE WITH POCKETS, AND OTHERS
The Silky and Spiny Pocket Mice, Grasshopper Mouse,
Harvest Mouse and House Mouse.
XIX TEENY WEENY AND HIS COUSIN
The Common or Long-tailed Shrew or Shrew Mouse,
Short-tailed Shrew or Mole Shrew and Marsh or Water
Shrew.
XX FOUR BUSY LITTLE MINERS
The Common Mole, Brewer's or Hairy-tailed Mole, Oregon
Mole and Star-nosed Mole.
XXI FLITTER THE BAT AND HIS FAMILY
The Red Bat, Little Brown or Cave Bat, Big Brown or
House Bat, Silvery Bat, Hoary Bat and Big-eared Bat.
XXII AN INDEPENDENT FAMILY
The Common Skunk, Hog-nosed or Badger Skunk and Little
Spotted Skunk.
XXIII DIGGER AND HIS COUSIN GLUTTON
The Badger and Wolverine or Carcajou.
XXIV SHADOW AND HIS FAMILY
The Common or Bonaparte Weasel or Ermine, New York
Weasel, Long-tailed or Yellow-bellied Weasel, Least
Weasel and Black-footed Ferret.
XXV TWO FAMOUS SWIMMERS
Billy Mink and Little Joe Otter.
XXVI SPITE THE MARTEN AND PEKAN THE FISHER
The Pine Marten or American Sable and the Fisher or
Pennant Marten.
XXVII REDDY FOX JOINS THE SCHOOL
The Red, Black and Silver Foxes, Gray Fox, Kit Fox
Or Swift, Desert Fox, Arctic and Blue Foxes.
XXVIII OLD MAN COYOTE AND HOWLER THE WOLF
The Prairie Wolf or Coyote and the Timber or Gray Wolf.
XXIX YOWLER AND HIS COUSIN TUFTY
The Bay Lynx or Bob Cat and the Canada Lynx or Lucivee.
XXX SOME BIG AND LITTLE CAT COUSINS
Puma the Panther, also called Cougar and Mountain Lion,
The Jaguar, the Ocelot, and the Jaguarundi Cat or Eyra.
XXXI BOBBY COON ARRIVES
The Raccoon and the Civet or Ring-tailed Cat, also
Called Coon Cat and Bassaris.
XXXII BUSTER BEAR NEARLY BREAKS UP SCHOOL
The Black Bear and his habits.
XXXIII BUSTER BEAR'S BIG COUSINS
Silvertip, the Grizzly Bear, the Alaska or Great Brown
Bear and the Polar Bear.
XXXIV UNC' BILLY AND OLD MRS. POSSUM
The Virginia Opossum, which is the only American
Marsupial.
XXXV LIGHTFOOT, BLACKTAIL AND FORKHORN
The White-tailed or Virginia Deer, Black-tailed Deer
And Mule Deer.
XXXVI BUGLER, FLATHORNS AND WANDERHOOF
The Elk or Wapiti, Moose or Caribou.
XXXVII THUNDERFOOT, FLEETFOOT AND LONGCOAT
The Buffalo or Bison, Antelope or Musk-Ox.
XXXVIII TWO WONDERFUL MOUNTAIN CLIMBERS
The Rocky Mountain Sheep or Bighorn and the Rocky
Mountain Goat.
XXXIX PIGGY AND HARDSHELL
The Peccary or Wild Pig and the Armadillo.
XL THE MAMMALS OF THE SEA
The Sea Otter, Walrus, Sea Lions, Seals and Manatee
Or Sea Cow.
THE BURGESS ANIMAL BOOK FOR CHILDREN
CHAPTER I Jenny Wren Gives Peter Rabbit an Idea
“As sure as you're alive now, Peter Rabbit, some day I will catch
you,” snarled Reddy Fox, as he poked his black nose in the hole
between the roots of the Big Hickory-tree which grows close to
the Smiling Pool. “It is lucky for you that you were not one jump
farther away from this hole.”
Peter, safe inside that hole, didn't have a word to say, or, if he
did, he didn't have breath enough to say it. It was quite true
that if he had been one jump farther from that hole, Reddy Fox
would have caught him. As it was, the hairs on Peter's funny
white tail actually had tickled Reddy's back as Peter plunged
frantically through the root-bound entrance to that hole. It
had been the narrowest escape Peter had had for a long, long time.
You see, Reddy Fox had surprised Peter nibbling sweet clover on the
bank of the Smiling Pond, and it had been a lucky thing for Peter
that that hole, dug long ago by Johnny Chuck's grandfather, had
been right where it was. Also, it was a lucky thing that old
Mr. Chuck had been wise enough to make the entrance between
the roots of that tree in such a way that it could not be
dug any larger.
Reddy Fox was too shrewd to waste any time trying to dig it larger.
He knew there wasn't room enough for him to get between those roots.
So, after trying to make Peter as uncomfortable as possible by
telling him what he, Reddy, would do to him when he did catch him,
Reddy trotted off across the Green Meadows. Peter remained where
he was for a long time. When he was quite sure that it was safe to
do so, he crept out and hurried, lipperty-lipperty-lip, up to the
Old Orchard. He felt that that would be the safest place for him,
because there were ever so many hiding places in the old stone wall
along the edge of it.
When Peter reached the Old Orchard, who should he see but Jenny
Wren. Jenny had arrived that very morning from the Sunny South
where she had spent the winter. “Tut, tut, tut, tut, tut!”
exclaimed Jenny as soon as she saw Peter. “If here isn't Peter
Rabbit himself! How did you manage to keep out of the clutches
of Reddy Fox all the long winter?”
Peter chuckled. “I didn't have much trouble with Reddy during
the winter,” said he, “but this very morning he so nearly caught
me that it is a wonder that my hair is not snow white from fright.”
Then he told Jenny all about his narrow escape. “Had it not been
for that handy hole of Grandfather Chuck, I couldn't possibly
have escaped,” concluded Peter.
Jenny Wren cocked her pert little head on one side, and her sharp
little eyes snapped. “Why don't you learn to swim, Peter, like
your cousin down in the Sunny South?” she demanded. “If he had
been in your place, he would simply have plunged into the Smiling
Pool and laughed at Reddy Fox.”
Peter sat bolt upright with his eyes very wide open. In them was
a funny look of surprise as he stared up at Jenny Wren. “What are
you talking about, Jenny Wren?” he demanded. “Don't you know that
none of the Rabbit family swim unless it is to cross the Laughing
Brook when there is no other way of getting to the other side, or
when actually driven into the water by an enemy from whom there is
no other escape? I can swim a little if I have to, but you don't
catch me in the water when I can stay on land. What is more, you
won't find any other members of my family doing such a thing.”
“Tut, tut, tut, tut, Peter!” exclaimed Jenny Wren in her sharp,
scolding voice. “Tut, tut, tut, tut! For a fellow who has been
so curious about the ways of his feathered neighbors, you know
very little about your own family. If I were in your place I
would learn about my own relatives before I became curious about
my neighbors. How many relatives have you, Peter?”
“One,” replied Peter promptly, “my big cousin, Jumper the Hare.”
Jenny Wren threw back her head and laughed and laughed and laughed.
It was a most irritating and provoking laugh. Finally Peter began
to lose patience. “What are you laughing at?” he demanded crossly.
“You know very well that Jumper the Hare is the only cousin I have.”
Jenny Wren laughed harder that ever.
“Peter!” she gasped. “Peter, you will be the death of me. Why,
down in the Sunny South, where I spent the winter, you have a
cousin who is more closely related to you than Jumper the Hare.
And what is more, he is almost as fond of the water as Jerry
Muskrat. He was called the Marsh Rabbit or Marsh Hare, and many a
time I have watched him swimming about by the hour.”
“I don't believe it!” declared Peter angrily. “I don't believe a
word of it. You are simply trying to fool me, Jenny Wren. There
never was a Rabbit and there never will be a Rabbit who would go
swimming for the fun of it. I belong to the Cottontail branch of
the Hare family, and it is a fine family if I do say so. My
cousin Jumper is a true Hare, and the only difference between us
is that he is bigger, has longer legs and ears, changes the color
of his coat in winter, and seldom, if ever, goes into holes in
the ground. The idea of trying to tell me I don't know about my
own relatives.”
Jenny Wren suddenly became sober. “Peter,” said she very earnestly,
“take my advice and go to school to Old Mother Nature for awhile.
What I have told you is true, every word of it. You have a cousin
down in the Sunny South who spends half his time in the water.
What is more, I suspect that you and Jumper have other relatives
of whom you've never heard. Such ignorance would be laughable if
it were not to be pitied. This is what comes of never having
traveled. Go to school to Old Mother Nature for a while, Peter.
It will pay you.” With this, Jenny Wren flew away to hunt for
Mr. Wren that they might decide where to make their home for
the summer.
Peter tried to believe that what Jenny Wren had told him was nothing
but a story, but do what he would, he couldn't rid himself of a
little doubt. He tried to interest himself in the affairs of the
other little people of Old Orchard, but it was useless. That little
doubt kept growing and growing. Could it be possible that Jenny
Wren had spoken the truth? Could it be that he really didn't
know what relatives he had or anything about them? Of course Old
Mother Nature could tell him all he wanted to know. And he knew
that whatever she might tell him would be true.
Finally that growing doubt, together with the curiosity which has
led poor Peter to do so many queer things, proved too much for him
and he started for the Green Forest to look for Old Mother Nature.
It didn't take long to find her. She was very busy, for there is
no time in all the year when Old Mother Nature has quite so much
to do as in the spring.
“If you please, Old Mother Nature,” said Peter timidly but very
politely, “I've some questions I want to ask you.”
Old Mother Nature's eyes twinkled in a kindly way. “All right,
Peter,” she replied. “I guess I can talk and work at the same
time. What is it you want to know?”
“I want to know if it is true that there are any other members of
the Rabbit and the Hare family besides my big cousin, Jumper, who
lives here in the Green Forest, and myself.”
Old Mother Nature's eyes twinkled more than ever. “Why, of course,
Peter,” she replied. “There are several other members. You ought
to know that. But then, I suppose you don't because you never
have traveled. It is surprising how little some folks know about
the very things they ought to know most about.”
Peter looked very humble and as if he felt a little bit foolish.
“Is--is--is it true that way down in the Sunny South I have a
cousin who loves to spend his time in the water?” stammered Peter.
“It certainly is, Peter,” replied Old Mother Nature. “He is called
the Marsh Rabbit, and he is more nearly your size, and looks more
like you, than any of your other cousins.”
Peter gulped as if he were swallowing something that went down
hard. “That is what Jenny Wren said, but I didn't believe her,”
replied Peter meekly. “She said she had often watched him
swimming about like Jerry Muskrat.”
Old Mother Nature nodded. “Quite true. Quite true,” said she.
“He is quite as much at home in the water as on land, if anything
a little more so. He is one member the family who takes to the
water, and he certainly does love it. Is there anything else you
want to know, Peter?”
Peter shifted about uneasily and hesitated. “What is it, Peter?”
asked Old Mother Nature kindly. “There is nothing in the Great
World equal to knowledge, and if I can add to your store of it I
will be very glad to.”
Peter took heart. “If--if you please, Mother Nature, I would like
to learn all about my family. May come to school to you every day?”
Old Mother Nature laughed right out. “Certainly you may go to
school to me, old Mr. Curiosity,” said she. “It is a good idea;
a very good idea. I'm very busy, as you can see, but I'm never
too busy to teach those who really want to learn. We'll have a
lesson here every morning just at sun-up. I can't be bothered
any more to-day, because it is late. Run along home to the dear
Old Briar-patch and think up some questions to ask me to-morrow
morning. And, by the way, Peter, I will ask YOU some questions.
For one thing I shall ask you to tell me all you know about your
own family. Now scamper along and be here to-morrow morning
at sun-up.”
“May I bring my cousin, Jumper the Hare, if he wants to come?”
asked Peter, as he prepared to obey Old Mother Nature.
“Bring him along and any one else who wants to learn,” replied Old
Mother Nature kindly.
Peter bade her good-by in his most polite manner and then scampered
as fast as he could go, lipperty-lipperty-lip, to the dear Old
Briar-patch. There he spent the remainder of the day thinking up
questions and also trying to find out how much he really did know
about his own family.
CHAPTER II Peter and Jumper go to School
Hardly had jolly, round, red Mr. Sun thrown off his rosy blankets
and begun his daily climb up in the blue, blue sky when Peter
Rabbit and his cousin, Jumper the Hare, arrived at the place in
the Green Forest where Peter had found Old Mother Nature the day
before. She was waiting for them, ready to begin the first lesson.
“I am glad you are so prompt,” said she. “Promptness is one of
the most important things in life. Now I am very, very busy these
days, as you know, so we will begin school at once. Before either
of you ask any questions, I am going to ask some myself. Peter,
what do you look like? Where do you live? What do you eat? I
want to find out just how much you really know about yourself.”
Peter scratched one ear with a long hind foot and hesitated as
if he didn't know just how to begin. Old Mother Nature waited
patiently. Finally Peter began rather timidly.
“Of course,” said he, “the only way I know how I look is by the
way the other members of my family look, for I've never seen
myself. I suppose in a way I look like all the rest of the Rabbit
family. I have long hind legs and short front ones. I suppose
this is so I can make long jumps when I am in a hurry.”
Old Mother Nature nodded, and Peter, taking courage, continued. “My
hind legs are stout and strong, but my front ones are rather weak.
I guess this is because I do not have a great deal of use for them,
except for running. My coat is a sort of mixture of brown and gray,
more brown in summer and more gray in winter. My ears are longer for
my size than are those of most animals, but really not very long after
all, not nearly as long for my size as my cousin Jumper's are for his
size. My tail doesn't amount to much because it is so short that it
is hardly worth calling a tail. It is so short I carry it straight
up. It is white like a little bunch of cotton, and I suppose that
that is why I am called a Cottontail Rabbit, though I have heard that
some folks call me a Gray Rabbit and others a Bush Rabbit. I guess
I'm called Bush Rabbit because I like bushy country in which to live.”
“I live in the dear Old Briar-patch and just love it. It is a
mass of bushes and bramble-tangles and is the safest place I know
of. I have cut little paths all through it just big enough for
Mrs. Peter and myself. None of our enemies can get at us there,
excepting Shadow the Weasel or Billy Mink. I have a sort of nest
there where I spend my time when I am not running about. It is
called a form and I sit in it a great deal.”
“In summer I eat clover, grass and other green things, and I just
love to get over into Farmer Brown's garden. In winter I have to
take what I can get, and this is mostly bark from young trees,
buds and tender twigs of bushes, and any green plants I can find
under the snow. I can run fast for a short distance, but only
for a short distance. That is why I like thick brush and
bramble-tangles. There I can dodge. I don't know any one who can beat
me at dodging. If Reddy Fox or Bowser the Hound surprises me away from
the dear Old Briar-patch I run for the nearest hollow log or hole in the
ground. Sometimes in summer I dig a hole for myself, but not often. It
is much easier to use a hole somebody else has dug. When I want to
signal my friends I thump the ground with my hind feet. Jumper does the
same thing. I forgot to say I don't like water.”
Old Mother Nature smiled. “You are thinking of that cousin of
yours, the Marsh Rabbit who lives way down in the Sunny South,”
said she.
Peter looked a wee bit foolish and admitted that he was. Jumper
the Hare was all interest at once. You see, he had never heard
of this cousin.
“That was a very good account of yourself, Peter,” said Old Mother
Nature. “Now take a look at your cousin, Jumper the Hare, and
tell me how he differs from you.”
Peter took a long look at Jumper, and then, as before, scratched
one ear with a long hind foot. “In the first place,” said he,
“Jumper is considerably bigger than I. He has very long hind legs
and his ears are very long. In summer he wears a brown coat, but
in winter he is all white but the tips of those long ears, and
those are black. Because his coat changes so, he is called the
varying Hare. He likes the Green Forest where the trees grow
close together, especially those places where there are a great
many young trees. He's the biggest member of our family. I
guess that's all I know about Cousin Jumper.”
“That is very good, Peter, as far as it goes,” said Old Mother
Nature. “You have made only one mistake. Jumper is not the
biggest of his family.”
Both Peter and Jumper opened their eyes very wide with surprise.
“Also,” continued Old Mother Nature, “you forgot to mention the
fact that Jumper never hides in hollow logs and holes in the
ground as you do. Why don't you, Jumper?”
“I wouldn't feel safe there,” replied Jumper rather timidly. “I
depend on my long legs for safety, and the way I can dodge around
trees and bushes. I suppose Reddy Fox may be fast enough to catch
me in the open, but he can't do it where I can dodge around trees
and bushes. That is why I stick to the Green Forest. If you please,
Mother Nature, what is this about a cousin who likes to swim?”
Old Mother Nature's eyes twinkled. “We'll get to that later on,”
said she. “Now, each of you hold up a hind foot and tell me what
difference you see.”
Peter and Jumper each held up a hind foot and each looked first at
his own and then at the other's. “They look to me very much
alike, only Jumper's is a lot longer and bigger than mine,” said
Peter. Jumper nodded as if he agreed.
“What's the matter with your eyes?” demanded Old Mother Nature.
“Don't you see that Jumper's foot is a great deal broader than
yours, Peter, and that his toes are spread apart, while yours are
close together?”
Peter and Jumper looked sheepish, for it was just as Old Mother
Nature had said. Jumper's foot really was quite different from
that of Peter. Peter's was narrow and slim.
“That is a very important difference,” declared Old Mother Nature.
“Can you guess why I gave you those big feet, Jumper?”
Jumper slowly shook his head. “Not unless it was to make me
different,” said he.
“I'm surprised,” said Old Mother Nature. “Yes, indeed, I'm
surprised. You ought to know by this time that I never give
anybody anything without a purpose. What happens to those big
feet of yours in the winter, Jumper?”
“Nothing that I know of, excepting that the hair grows out long
between my toes,” Jumper replied.
“Exactly,” snapped Old Mother Nature. “And when the hair does this
you can travel over light snow without sinking in. It is just as
if you had snowshoes. That is why you are often called a Snowshoe
Rabbit. I gave you those big feet and make the hair grow out every
winter because I know that you depend on your legs to get away from
your enemies. You can run over the deep snow where your enemies
break through. Peter, though he is small and lighter than you are,
cannot go where you can. But Peter doesn't need to depend always
on his legs to save his life. There is one thing more that I want
you both to notice, and that is that you both have quite a lot of
short hairs on the soles of you feet. That is where you differ
from that cousin of yours down in the Sunny South. He has only
a very few hairs on his feet. That is so he can swim better.”
“If you please, Mother Nature, why is that cousin of ours so fond
of the water?” piped up Peter.
“Because,” replied Old Mother Nature, “he lives in marshy country
where there is a great deal of water. He is very nearly the same
size as you, Peter, and looks very much like you. But his legs
are not quite so long, his ears are a little smaller, and his tail
is brownish instead of white. He is a poor runner and so in time
of danger he takes to the water. For that matter, he goes swimming
for pleasure. The water is warm down there, and he dearly loves
to paddle about in it. If a Fox chases him he simply plunges into
the water and hides among the water plants with only his eyes and
his nose out of water.”
“Does he make his home in the water like Jerry Muskrat?” asked
Peter innocently.
Mother Nature smiled and shook her head. “Certainly not,” she
replied. “His home is on the ground. His babies are born in a
nest made just as Mrs. Peter makes her nest for your babies, and
Mrs. Jumper makes a nest for Jumper's babies. It is made of grass
and lined with soft fur which Mrs. Rabbit pulls from her own
breast, and it is very carefully hidden. By the way, Peter how do
your babies differ from the babies of your Cousin Jumper?”
Peter shook his head. “I don't know,” said he. “My babies don't
have their eyes open when they are born, and they haven't any hair.”
Jumper pricked up his long ears. “What's that?” said he.
“Why, my babies have their eyes open and have the dearest little
fur coats!”
Old Mother Nature chuckled. “That is the difference,” said she.
“I guess both of you have learned something.”
“You said a little while ago that Jumper isn't the biggest of our
family,” said Peter. “If you please, who is?”
“There are several bigger than Jumper,” replied Old Mother Nature,
and smiled as she saw the funny look of surprise on the faces of
Peter and Jumper. “There is one way up the Frozen North and there
are two cousins way out in the Great West. They are as much
bigger than Jumper as Jumper is bigger than you, Peter. But I
haven't time to tell you about them now. If you really want to
learn about them, be here promptly at sun-up to-morrow morning.
Hello! Here comes Reddy Fox, and he looks to me as if a good
breakfast would not come amiss. Let me see what you have learned
about taking care of yourselves.”
Peter and Jumper gave one startled look in the direction Mother
Nature was pointing. Sure enough, there was Reddy Fox. Not far
away was a hollow log. Peter wasted no time in getting to it.
In fact, he left in such a hurry that he forgot to say good-by to
Old Mother Nature. But she didn't mind, for she quite understood
Peter's feelings, and she laughed when she saw his funny little
white tail disappear inside the hollow log. As for Jumper, he
promptly took to his long legs and disappeared with great bounds,
Reddy Fox racing after him.
CHAPTER III More of Peter's Long-Legged Cousins
At sun-up the next morning Peter Rabbit and Jumper the Hare were on
hand promptly for their next lesson. Old Mother Nature smiled as
she saw the eager curiosity shining in their eyes. She didn't wait
for them to ask questions. “Yesterday,” said she, “I told you
about your water-loving cousin, the Marsh Rabbit. You have another
relative down there in the Sunny South who is almost as fond of
the water. Some folks call him the Swamp Rabbit. Others call him
the Swamp Hare. The latter is really the best name for him, because
he is a true Hare. He lives in swamps instead of marshes, but he is
a splendid swimmer and fond of the water. When he is chased by an
enemy he makes for the nearest point or stream.”
“How big is he?” asked Jumper.
“Just about your size, Jumper,” replied Old Mother Nature. “If
anything, he is a little bit heavier. But because his hair lies
much smoother than yours, you probably would look a little bit
bigger if you were sitting beside him. As with his cousin, the
Marsh Rabbit, the hair on his feet is thin. His toes are rather
long and he can spread them widely, which is a great help in
swimming. He doesn't have to take to the water as his little
cousin does, for he is a very good runner. But he does take to it
as the easiest way of getting rid of those who are chasing him.
The Marsh Rabbit and the Swamp Hare are the only members of your
family in all the Great World who are fond of the water and who
are at home in it. Now, who shall I tell you about?”
“Our biggest cousins,” cried Peter and Jumper together. “The ones
you told us yesterday are bigger than Jumper,” added Peter. “It
is hard to believe that there can be any much bigger than he.”
Old Mother Nature's eyes twinkled. “It is often hard to believe
things you know nothing about,” said she. “Compared with these
other relatives, Jumper really isn't big at all. He seems big to
you, Peter, but if he should meet his cousin, Snow White the Arctic
Hare, who lives way up in the Frozen North, I am quite sure Jumper
would feel small. Snow White looks very much like Jumper in his
winter coat, for he is all white save the tips of his ears,
which are black.”
“Does he wear a white coat all year round?” asked Peter eagerly.
“When he lives so far north that there is snow and ice for most of
the year, he does,” replied Old Mother Nature. “But when he lives
far enough south for the snow to disappear for a little while in
the summer, he changes his white coat for one of gray.”
“But how can he live so far north that the snow and ice seldom melt?”
asked Peter, looking very much puzzled. “What can he find to eat?”
“Even way up there there is moss growing under the snow. And in the
short summer other plants grow. During the long winter Snow White
digs down through the snow to get these. He also eats the bark and
twigs of little stunted trees. But big as he is, you have a cousin
who is still bigger, the biggest of all the family.”
“Who is he?” Jumper and Peter cried together.
“He is called White-tailed Jack,” replied Old Mother Nature. “And
he lives chiefly on the great plains of the Northwest, though
sometimes he is found in the mountains and forests. He is sometimes
called the Prairie Hare. In winter his coat is white, but in
summer it is a light brown. Summer or winter his tail is white,
wherein he is much like you, Peter. It is because of this that he
is called White-tailed Jack.”
“Is his tail as short as mine?” asked Peter eagerly.
Old Mother Nature laughed right out. “No, Peter,” she replied.
“It wouldn't be called a long tail by any other animal, but for a
member of your family it really is long, and when White-tailed
Jack is running he switches it from side to side. His hind legs
are very long and powerful, and he can make a single jump of twenty
feet without half trying. Not even Old Man Coyote can catch him
in a straightaway race. You think Jumper's ears are long, Peter,
but they are short compared to the ears of White-tailed Jack. Not
only are his ears long, but they are very big. When he squats in
his form and lays his ears back they reach way over his shoulders.
Like the other members of the Hare family he doesn't use holes in
the ground or hollow logs. He trusts to his long legs and to his
wonderful speed to escape from his enemies. Among the latter are
Howler the Wolf, Old Man Coyote, Eagles, Hawks and Owls. He is
so big that he would make five or six of you, Peter.”
Peter drew a long breath. “It is dreadfully hard to believe that
I can have a cousin as big as that,” he exclaimed. “But of course
if you say it is so, it is so,” he hastened to add. “Have I any
other cousins anywhere near as big?”
Old Mother Nature nodded. “There are some others very like
White-tailed Jack, only not quite as big,” said she. “They have
just such long hind legs, and just such great ears, but their
coats are different, and they live on the great plains farther
south. Some of them live so far south that it is warm all the
year round. One of these latter is Antelope Jack, whose home is
in the Southwest.”
“Tell us about him,” begged Peter.
“To begin with,” replied Old Mother Nature, “he is a member of the
big Jack Rabbit or Jack Hare branch of your family. None of this
branch should be called a Rabbit. All the members are first cousins
to Jumper and are true Hares. All have big ears, long, rather thin
necks, and long legs. Even their front legs are comparatively long.
Antelope Jack is probably next in size to White-tailed Jack. Strange
to say, although he lives where it is warm for most of the year, his
coat is very largely white. His back is a yellowish-brown and so is
his throat. But his sides are white. The surprising thing about
him is that he has the power of making himself seem almost wholly
white. He can make the white hair spread out at will by means of
some special little muscles which I have given him, so that the
white of his sides at times almost seems to meet on his back. When
he does this in the sun it makes flashes of white which can be seen
a long way. By means of this Antelope Jack and his friends can
keep track of each other when they are a long distance apart. There
is only one other animal who can flash signals in this way, and that
is the Antelope of whom I will tell you some other time. It is
because Jack flashes signals in this way that he is called Antelope
Jack. In his habits he is otherwise much like the other members of
his family. He trusts to his long legs and his wonderful powers of
jumping to keep him out of danger. He is not as well known as his
commoner cousin, plain Jack Rabbit. Everybody knows Jack Rabbit.”
Peter shook his head. “I don't,” said he very meekly.
“Then it is time you did,” replied Old Mother Nature. “If you had
ever been in the Far West you would know him. Everybody out there
knows him. He isn't quite as big as Antelope Jack but still he is
a big fellow. He wears a brownish coat much like Jumper's, and
the tips of his long ears are black. His tail is longer than
Jumper's, and when he runs he carries it down.”
“I don't carry mine down,” Peter piped up.
Old Mother Nature laughed right out. “True enough, Peter, true
enough,” said she. “You couldn't if you wanted to. It isn't long
enough to carry any way but up. Jack has more of a tail than you
have, just as he has longer legs. My, how he can run! He goes with
great bounds and about every tenth bound he jumps very high. This
is so that he can get a good look around to watch out for enemies.”
“Who are his enemies?” asked Peter.
“Foxes, Coyotes, Hawks, Eagles, Owls, Weasels, and men,” replied
Old Mother Nature. “In fact, he has about as many enemies as
you have.”
“I suppose when you say men, you mean hunters,” said Peter.
Old Mother Nature nodded. “Yes,” said she, “I mean those who hunt
him for fun and those who hunt him to get rid of him.”
Peter pricked up his ears. “What do they want to get rid of him
for. What harm does he do?” he asked.
“When he lives far away from the homes of men he does no harm,”
replied Old Mother Nature. “But when he lives near the homes of
men he gets into mischief, just as you do when you visit Farmer
Brown's garden.” Old Mother Nature looked very severe when she
said this and Peter hung his head.
“I know I ought to keep away from that garden,” said Peter very
meekly, “but you have no idea what a temptation it is. The things
in that garden do taste so good.”
Old Mother Nature turned her head to hide the twinkle in her eyes.
When she turned toward Peter again her face was severe as before.
“That is no excuse, Peter Rabbit,” said she. “You should be
sufficiently strong-minded not to yield to temptation. Yielding
to temptation is the cause of most of the trouble in this world.
It has made man an enemy to Jack Rabbit. Jack just cannot keep
away from the crops planted by men. His family is very large, and
when a lot of them get together in a field of clover or young wheat,
or in a young orchard where the bark on the trees is tender and
sweet, they do so much damage that the owner is hardly to be blamed
for becoming angry and seeking to kill them. Yes, I am sorry to
say, Jack Rabbit becomes a terrible nuisance when he goes where
he has no business. Now I guess you have learned sufficient about
your long-legged cousins. I've a great deal to do, so skip along
home, both of you.”
“If you please, Mother Nature, may we come again to-morrow?”
asked Peter.
“What for?” demanded Old Mother Nature. “Haven't you learned enough
about your family?”
“Yes,” replied Peter, “but there are lots and lots of things I
would like to know about other people. If you please, I would
like to come to school to you every day. You see, the more I
learn about my neighbors, the better able I will be to take care
of myself.”
“All right, Mr. Curiosity,” replied Old Mother Nature good-naturedly,
“come again to-morrow morning. I wouldn't for the world deny any one
who is really seeking for knowledge.”
So Peter and Jumper politely bade her good-by and started for
their homes.
CHAPTER IV Chatterer and Happy Jack Join
Peter Rabbit, on his way to school to Old Mother Nature, was trying
to make up his mind about which of his neighbors he would ask. He
had learned so many surprising things about his own family that he
shrewdly suspected many equally surprising things were to be learned
about his neighbors. But there were so many neighbors he couldn't
decide which one to ask about first.
But that matter was settled for him, and in a funny way. Hardly
had he reached the edge of the Green Forest when he was hailed by a
sharp voice. “Hello, Peter Rabbit!” said this sharp voice. “Where
are you bound at this hour of the morning? You ought to be heading
for home in the dear Old Briar-patch.”
Peter knew that voice the instant he heard it. It was the voice of
Happy Jack the Gray Squirrel. Happy Jack was seated on the top of
an old stump, eating a nut. “I'm going to school,” replied Peter
with a great deal of dignity.
“Going to school! Ho, ho, ho! Going to school!” exclaimed Happy
Jack. “Pray tell me to whom you are going to school, and what for?”
“I'm going to school to Old Mother Nature,” retorted Peter. “I've
been going for several days, and so has my cousin, Jumper the Hare.
We've learned a lot about our own family and now we are going to
learn about the other little people of the Green Forest and the
Green Meadows.”
“Pooh!” exclaimed Happy Jack. “Pooh! I know all about my own family,
and I guess there isn't much worth knowing about my neighbors that
I don't know.”
“Is that so, Mr. Know-it-all,” retorted Peter. “I don't believe
you even know all your own cousins. I thought I knew all mine, but
I found I didn't.”
“What are you fellows talking about?” asked another voice, a sharp
scolding voice, and Chatterer the Red Squirrel jumped from one
tree to another just above Peter's head.
“Peter is trying to make me believe that I don't know as much as I
might about our own family,” snapped Happy Jack indignantly. “He
is on his way to school to Old Mother Nature and has advised me to
join him. Isn't that a joke?”
“Maybe it is, and maybe it isn't,” retorted Chatterer, who isn't
the best of friends with his cousin, Happy Jack. “If I don't know
as much about the Squirrel family as you do, may I never find another
nut as long as I live. But at that, I'm not sure I know all there
is to know. I think it would be fun to go to school for a while.
What do you say, Peter, if I go along with you?”
Peter said that he thought it would be a very fine thing and that
Chatterer never would regret it. Chatterer winked at his cousin,
Happy Jack, and followed Peter, only of course, Chatterer kept in
the trees while Peter was on the ground. Happy Jack hesitated a
minute and then, curiosity becoming too much for him, he hastened
after the others.
“Hello!” exclaimed Old Mother Nature, as Happy Jack and Chatterer
appeared with Peter Rabbit. “What are you frisky folks doing
over here?”
Happy Jack and Chatterer appeared to have lost their tongues,
something very unusual for them, especially for Chatterer. The
fact is, in the presence of Old Mother Nature they felt bashful.
Peter replied for them. “They've decided to come to school,
too,” said he. “Happy Jack says he knows all about his own
family, but he has come along to find out if he really does.”
“It won't take us long to find out,” said Old Mother Nature softly
and her eyes twinkled with amusement. “How many cousins have
you, Happy Jack?”
Happy Jack thought for a moment. “Three,” he replied, but he
didn't say it in a very positive way. Peter chuckled to himself,
for he knew that already doubt was beginning to grow in Happy
Jack's mind.
“Name them,” commanded Old Mother Nature promptly.
“Chatterer the Red Squirrel, Timmy the Flying Squirrel, and
Striped Chipmunk,” replied Happy Jack.
“He's forgotten Rusty the Fox Squirrel,” shouted Chatterer,
dancing about gleefully.
Happy Jack looked crestfallen and gave Chatterer an angry look.
“That's right, Chatterer,” said Old Mother Nature. “Rusty is a
very important member of the Squirrel family. Now suppose you
name the others.”
“Wha--wha--what others?” stammered Chatterer. “I don't know of
any others.”
Peter Rabbit hugged himself with glee as he watched the faces of
Happy Jack and Chatterer. “They don't know any more about their
family than we did about ours,” he whispered in one of the long
ears of Jumper the Hare.
As for Old Mother Nature, she smiled indulgently. “Put on your
thinking-caps, you two,” said she. “You haven't named half of
them. You are not wholly to blame for that, for some of them you
never have seen, but there is one member of the Squirrel family
whom both of you know very well, yet whom neither of you named.
Put on your thinking-caps.”
Chatterer looked at Happy Jack, and Happy Jack looked at Chatterer,
and each scratched his head. Each wanted to be the first to think
of that other cousin, for each was jealous of the other. But though
they scratched and scratched their heads, they couldn't think who
that other cousin could be. Old Mother Nature waited a few minutes
before she told them. Then, seeing that either they couldn't
remember or didn't know, she said, “You didn't mention Johnny Chuck.”
“Johnny Chuck!” exclaimed Chatterer and Happy Jack together, and
the look of surprise on their faces was funny to see. For that
matter, the looks on the faces of Peter Rabbit and Jumper the
Hare were equally funny.
Old Mother Nature nodded. “Johnny Chuck,” she repeated. “He is a
member of the Squirrel family. He belongs to the Marmot branch,
but he is a Squirrel just the same. He is one of your cousins.”
“He's a mighty funny looking Squirrel,” said Chatterer, jerking
his tail as only he can.
“That just shows your ignorance, Chatterer,” replied Old Mother
Nature rather sharply. “I'm surprised at the ignorance of you
two.” She looked first at Chatterer, than at Happy Jack. “It is
high time you came to school to me for a while. You've got a lot
to learn. For that matter, so have Peter and Jumper. Now which
of you can tell me what order you all belong to?”
Happy Jack looked at Chatterer, Chatterer looked at Peter Rabbit,
and Peter looked at Jumper the Hare. On the face of each was such
a funny, puzzled expression that Old Mother Nature almost laughed
right out. Finally Peter Rabbit found his tongue. “If you please,”
said he, “I guess we don't know what you mean by an order.”
“I thought as much,” said Old Mother Nature. “I thought as much.
In the first place, the animals of the Great World are divided
into big groups or divisions, and then these groups are divided
into smaller groups, and these in turn into still smaller groups.
Happy Jack and Chatterer belong to a group called the Squirrel
family, and Peter and Jumper to a group called the Hare family.
Both of these families and several other families belong to a
bigger group called an order, and this order is the order of
Gnawers, or Rodents.”
Peter Rabbit fairly jumped up in the air, he was so excited. “Then
Jumper and I must be related to Happy Jack and Chatterer,” he cried.
“In a way you are,” replied Old Mother Nature. “It isn't a very
close relationship, still you are related. All of you are Rodents.
So are all the members of the Rat and Mouse family, the Beaver
family, the Porcupine family, the Pocket Gopher family, the Pika
family, and the Sewellel family.”
By this time Peter's eyes looked as if they would pop right out of
his head. “This is the first time I've ever heard of some of those
families,” said he. “My, what a lot we have to learn! Is it
because all the members of all those families have teeth for gnawing
that they are all sort of related?”
Old Mother Nature looked pleased. “Peter,” said she, “I think you
ought to go to the head of the class. That is just why. All the
members of all the families I have named belong to the same order,
the order of Rodents. All the members have big, cutting, front
teeth. Animals without such teeth cannot gnaw. Now, as you and
Jumper have learned about your family, it is the turn of Happy Jack
and Chatterer to learn about their family. Theirs is rather a large
family, and it is divided into three groups, the first of which
consists of the true Squirrels, to which group both Happy Jack and
Chatterer belong. The second group consists of the Marmots, and
Johnny Chuck belongs to this. The third group Timmy the Flying
Squirrel has all to himself.”
“Where does Striped Chipmunk come in?” asked Chatterer.
“I'm coming to that,” replied Old Mother Nature. “The true Squirrels
are divided into the Tree Squirrels, Rock Squirrels, and Ground
Squirrels. Of course Chatterer and Happy Jack are Tree Squirrels.”
“And Striped Chipmunk is a Ground Squirrel,” interrupted Peter,
looking as if he felt very much pleased with his own smartness.
Old Mother Nature shook her head. “You are wrong this time,
Peter,” said she, and Peter looked as foolish as he felt. “Striped
Chipmunk is a Rock Squirrel. Seek Seek the Spermophile who lives
on the plains of the West and is often called Gopher Squirrel, is
the true Ground Squirrel. Now I can't spend any more time with you
little folks this morning, because I've too much to do. To-morrow
morning I shall expect Chatterer to tell me all about Happy Jack,
and Happy Jack to tell me all about Chatterer. Now scamper along,
all of you, and think over what you have learned this morning.”
So Peter and Jumper and Chatterer and Happy Jack thanked Old Mother
Nature for what she had told them and scampered away. Peter headed
straight for the far corner of the Old Orchard where he was sure he
would find Johnny Chuck. He couldn't get there fast enough, for he
wanted to be the first to tell Johnny Chuck that he was a Squirrel.
You see he didn't believe that Johnny knew it.
CHAPTER V The Squirrels of the Trees
Peter Rabbit found Johnny Chuck sitting on his doorstep, sunning
himself. Peter was quite out of breath because he had hurried so.
“Do you know that you are a Squirrel, Johnny Chuck?” he panted.
Johnny slowly turned his head and looked at Peter as if he thought
Peter had suddenly gone crazy. “What are you talking about, Peter
Rabbit? I'm not a Squirrel; I'm a Woodchuck,” he replied.
“Just the same, you are a Squirrel,” retorted Peter. “The Woodchucks
belong to the Squirrel family. Old Mother Nature says so, and if she
says so, it is so. You'd better join our school, Johnny Chuck, and
learn a little about your own relatives.”
Johnny Chuck blinked his eyes and for a minute or two couldn't find
a word to say. He knew that if Peter were telling the truth as to
what Old Mother Nature had said, it must be true that he was member
of the Squirrel family. But it was hard to believe. “What is this
school?” he finally asked.
Peter hastened to tell him. He told Johnny all about what he and
Jumper the Hare had learned about their family, and all the
surprising things Old Mother Nature had told them about the
Squirrel family, and he ended by again urging Johnny Chuck to
join the school and promised to call for Johnny the next morning.
But Johnny Chuck is lazy and does not like to go far from his own
doorstep, so when Peter called the next morning Johnny refused to
go, despite all Peter could say. Peter didn't waste much time
arguing for he was afraid he would be late and miss something.
When he reached the Green Forest he found his cousin, Jumper the
Hare, and Chatterer the Red Squirrel, and Happy Jack the Gray
Squirrel, already there. As soon as Peter arrived Old Mother
Nature began the morning lesson.
“Happy Jack,” said she, “you may tell us all you know about your
cousin, Chatterer.”
“To begin with, he is the smallest of the Tree Squirrels,” said
Happy Jack. “He isn't so very much bigger than Striped Chipmunk,
and that means that he is less than half as big as myself. His
coat is red and his waistcoat white; his tail is about two-thirds
as long as his body and flat but not very broad. Personally, I
don't think it is much of a tail.”
At once Chatterer's quick temper flared up and he began to scold.
But Old Mother Nature silenced him and told Happy Jack to go on.
“He spends more of his time in the trees than I do,” continued
Happy Jack, “and is especially fond of pine trees and other
cone-bearing trees. He likes the deeper parts of the Green Forest
better than I do, though he seems to feel just as much at home on
the edge of the Green Forest, especially if it is near a farm where
he can steal corn.”
Chatterer started to scold again but was silenced once more by Old
Mother Nature. “I have to admit that Chatterer is thrifty,”
continued Happy Jack, quite as if he hadn't been interrupted.
“He is very fond of the seeds of cone-bearing trees. He cuts the
cones from the trees just before they are ripe. Then they ripen
and open on the ground, where he can get at the seeds easily. He
often has a number of store-houses and stores up cone seeds, acorns,
nuts, and corn when he can get it. He builds a nest of leaves and
strips of bark, sometimes in a hollow tree and sometimes high up
in the branches of an evergreen tree. He is a good jumper and
jumps from tree to tree. He is a busybody and always poking his
nose in where he has no business. He steals my stores whenever he
can find them.”
“You do the same thing to me when you have the chance, which isn't
often,” sputtered Chatterer.
Happy Jack turned his back to Chatterer and continued, “He doesn't
seem to mind cold weather at all, as long as the sun shines. His
noisy tongue is to be heard on the coldest days of winter. He is
the sauciest, most impudent fellow of the Green Forest, and never
so happy as when he is making trouble for others. He sauces and
scolds everybody he meets, and every time he opens his mouth he
jerks his tail. He's quarrelsome. Worse than that, in the spring
when the birds are nesting, he turns robber. He goes hunting
for nests and steals the eggs, and what is even more dreadful, he
kills and eats the baby birds. All the birds hate him, and I
don't blame them.”
Chatterer could contain himself no longer. His tongue fairly flew
and he jerked his tail so hard and so fast that Peter Rabbit almost
expected to see him break it right off. He called Happy Jack
names, all the bad names he could think of, and worked himself up
into such a rage that it was some time before Old Mother Nature
could quiet him.
When at last he stopped from sheer lack of breath, Old Mother
Nature spoke, and her voice was very severe. “I'm ashamed of you,
Chatterer,” said she. “Unfortunately, what Happy Jack has said
about you is true. In many ways you are a disgrace to the Green
Forest. Still I don't know how the Green Forest could get along
without you. Happy Jack forgot to mention that you eat some
insects at times. He also forgot to mention that sometimes you
have a storehouse down in the ground. Now tell us what you know
about your cousin, Happy Jack.”
For a few minutes Chatterer sulked, but he did not dare disobey Old
Mother Nature. “I don't know much good about him,” he mumbled.
“And you don't know much bad about me either,” retorted Happy
Jack sharply.
Old Mother Nature held up a warning hand. “That will do,” said
she. “Now, Chatterer, go on.”
“Happy Jack is more than twice as big as I, but at that, I'm not
afraid of him,” said Chatterer and glared at Happy Jack. “He is
gray all over, except underneath, where he is white. He has a
tremendously big tail and is so proud of it he shows it off
whenever he has a chance. When he sits up he has a way of
folding his hands on his breast. I don't know what he does it
for unless it is to keep them warm in cold weather. He builds a
nest very much like mine. Sometimes it is in a hollow tree, but
quite as often it is in the branches of a tree. He is a good
traveler in the tree-tops, but he spends a good deal of his time
on the ground. He likes open woodland best, especially where
there are many nut trees. He has a storehouse where he stores up
nuts for winter, but he buries in the ground and under the leaves
more than he puts in his storehouse. In winter, when he is hungry,
he hunts for those buried nuts, and somehow he manages to find them
even when they are covered with snow. When he comes to stealing
he is not better than I am. I have seen him steal birds' eggs,
and I wouldn't trust him unwatched around one of my storehouses.”
It was Happy Jacks' turn to become indignant. “I may have taken a
few eggs when I accidentally ran across them,” said he, “but I never
go looking for them, and I don't take them unless I am very hungry
and can't find anything else. I don't make a business of robbing
birds the way you do, and you know it. If I find one of your
storehouses and help myself, I am only getting back what you have
stolen from me. Everybody loves me and that is more than you
can say.”
“That's enough,” declared Old Mother Nature, and her voice was very
sharp. “You two cousins never have agreed and I am afraid never will.
As long as you are neighbors, I suspect you will quarrel. Have you
told us all you know about Happy Jack, Chatterer?”
Chatterer nodded. He was still mumbling to himself angrily and
wasn't polite enough to make a reply. Old Mother Nature took no
notice of this. “What you have told us is good as far as it goes,”
said she. “You said that Happy Jack is all gray excepting
underneath. Usually the Gray Squirrel is just as Chatterer has
described him, but sometimes a Gray Squirrel isn't gray at all,
but all black.”
Peter Rabbit's ears stood straight up with astonishment. “How can
a Gray Squirrel be black?” he demanded.
Old Mother Nature smiled. “That is a fair question, Peter,” said
she. “Gray Squirrel is simply the name of Happy Jack's family.
Sometimes some of the babies are born with black coats instead of
gray coats. Of course they are just the same kind of Squirrel,
only they look different. In some parts of the country there are
numbers of these black-coated Squirrels and many think they are a
different kind of Squirrel. They are not. They are simply
black-coated members of Happy Jack's family. Just remember this.
It is the same way in the family of Rusty the Fox Squirrel. Some
members are rusty red, some are a mixture of red and gray, and some
are as gray as Happy Jack himself. Way down in the Sunny South Fox
Squirrels always have white noses and ears. In the North they never
have white noses and ears. Rusty the Fox Squirrel is just a little
bigger than Happy Jack and has just such a handsome tail. He is
the strongest and heaviest of the Tree Squirrels and not nearly
as quick and graceful as Happy Jack. Sometimes Rusty has two
nests in the same tree, one in a hollow in a tree for bad weather
and the other made of sticks and leaves outside in the branches
for use in good weather. Rusty's habits are very much the same
as those of Happy Jack the Gray Squirrel, and therefore he likes
the same kind of surroundings. Like his cousin, Happy Jack,
Rusty is a great help to me.”
Seeing how surprised everybody looked, Mother Nature explained.
“Both Happy Jack and Rusty bury a great many more nuts than they
ever need,” said she, “and those they do not dig up sprout in the
spring and grow. In that way they plant ever so many trees without
knowing it. Just remember that, Chatterer, the next time you are
tempted to quarrel with your cousin, Happy Jack. Very likely Happy
Jack's great-great-ever-so-great grandfather planted the very tree
you get your fattest and best hickory nuts from.
“Way out in the mountains of the Far West you have a cousin called
the Douglas Squirrel, who is really a true Red Squirrel and whose
habits are very much like your own. Some folks call him the Pine
Squirrel. By the way, Chatterer, Happy Jack forgot to say that
you are a good swimmer. Perhaps he didn't know it.”
By the expression of Happy Jack's face it was quite clear that he
didn't know it. “Certainly I can swim,” said Chatterer. “I don't
mind the water at all. I can swim a long distance if I have to.”
This was quite as much news to Peter Rabbit as had been the fact
that a cousin of his own was a good swimmer, and he began to feel
something very like respect for Chatterer.
“Are there any other Tree Squirrels?” asked Jumper the Hare.
“Yes,” replied Old Mother Nature, “there are two--the handsomest
of all the family. They live out in the Southwest, in one of the
most wonderful places in all this great land, a place called the
Grand Canyon. One is called the Abert Squirrel and the other the
Kaibab Squirrel. They are about the size of Happy Jack and Rusty
but have broader, handsomer tails and their ears have long tufts
of hair. The Abert Squirrel has black ears, a brown back, gray
sides and white underneath. Kaibab has brown ears with black
tips, and his tail is mostly white. Both are very lovely, but
their families are small and so they are little known.”
With this, Old Mother Nature dismissed school for the day.
CHAPTER VI Striped Chipmunk and his Cousins
Of course there couldn't be a school in the Green Forest without
news of it spreading very fast. News travels quickly through the
Green Forest and over the Green Meadows, for the little people who
live there are great gossips. So it was not surprising that Striped
Chipmunk heard all about Old Mother Nature's school. The next
morning, just as the daily lesson was beginning, Striped Chipmunk
came hurrying up, quite our of breath.
“Well, well! See who's here!” exclaimed Old Mother Nature. “What
have you come for, Striped Chipmunk?”
“I've come to try to learn. Will you let me stay, Mother Nature?”
replied Striped Chipmunk.
“Of course I'll let you stay,” cried Old Mother Nature heartily.
“I am glad you have come, especially glad you have come today,
because to-day's lesson is to be about you and your cousins. Now,
Peter Rabbit, what are the differences between Striped Chipmunk
and his cousins, the Tree Squirrels?”
Peter looked very hard at Striped Chipmunk as if he had never really
seen him before. “He is smaller than they are,” began Peter. “In
fact, he is the smallest Squirrel I know.” Peter paused.
Old Mother Nature nodded encouragingly. “Go on,” said she.
“He wears a striped coat,” continued Peter. “The stripes are black
and yellowish-white and run along his sides, a black stripe running
down the middle of his back. The rest of his coat is reddish-brown
above and light underneath. His tail is rather thin and flat. I
never see him in the trees, so I guess he can't climb.”
“Oh, yes, I can,” interrupted Striped Chipmunk. “I can climb if I
want to, and I do sometimes, but prefer the ground.”
“Go on, Peter,” said Old Mother Nature.
“He seems to like old stone walls and rock piles,” continued Peter,
“and he is one of the brightest, liveliest, merriest and the most
lovable of all my friends.”
“Thank you, Peter,” said Striped Chipmunk softly.
“I never have been able to find his home,” continued Peter. “That is
one of his secrets. But I know it is in the ground. I guess this
is all I know about him. I should say the chief difference between
Striped Chipmunk and the Tree Squirrels is that he spends all his
time on the ground while the others live largely in the trees.”
“Very good, Peter,” said Old Mother Nature. “But there are two
very important differences which you have not mentioned. Striped
Chipmunk has a big pocket on the inside of each cheek, while his
cousins of the trees have no pockets at all.”
“Of course,” cried Peter. “I don't see how I came to forget that.
I've laughed many times at Striped Chipmunk with those pockets
stuffed with nuts or seeds until his head looked three times bigger
than it does now. Those pockets must be very handy.”
“They are,” replied Striped Chipmunk. “I couldn't get along without
them. They save me a lot of running back and forth, I can tell you.”
“And the other great difference,” said Old Mother Nature, “is
that Striped Chipmunk sleeps nearly all winter, just waking up
occasionally to pop his head out on a bright day to see how the
weather is. A great many folks call Striped Chipmunk a Ground
Squirrel, but more properly he is a Rock Squirrel because he
likes stony places best. Supposing, Striped Chipmunk, you tell
us where and how you make your home.”
“I make my home down in the ground,” replied Striped Chipmunk. “I
dig a tunnel just big enough to run along comfortably. Down deep
enough to be out of reach of Jack Frost I make a nice little
bedroom with a bed of grass and leaves, and I make another little
room for a storeroom in which to keep my supply of seeds and nuts.
Sometimes I have more than one storeroom. Also I have some little
side tunnels.”
“But why is it I never have been able to find the entrance to your
tunnel?” asked Peter, as full of curiosity as ever.
“Because I have it hidden underneath the stone wall on the edge of
the Old Orchard,” replied Striped Chipmunk.
“But even then, I should think that all the sand you must have
taken out would give your secret away,” cried Peter.
Striped Chipmunk chuckled happily. It was a throaty little chuckle,
pleasant to hear. “I looked out for that,” said he. “There isn't
a grain of that sand around my doorway. I took it all out through
another hole some distance away, a sort of back door, and then
closed it up solidly. If you please, Mother Nature, if I am not
a Ground Squirrel, who is?”
“Your cousin, Seek Seek the Spermophile, sometimes called Gopher
Squirrel, who lives on the open plains of the West where there are
no rocks or stones. He likes best the flat, open country. He is
called Spermophile because that means seed-eater, and he lives
largely on seeds, especially on grain. Because of this he does a
great deal of damage and is much disliked by farmers.
“Seek Seek's family are the true Ground Squirrels. Please remember
that they never should be called Gophers, for they are not Gophers.
One of the smallest members of the family is just about your size,
Striped Chipmunk, and he also wears stripes, only he has more of
them than you have, and they are broken up into little dots. He
is called the Thirteen-lined Spermophile. He has pockets in his
cheeks just as you have, and he makes a home down in the ground
very similar to yours. All the family do this, and all of them
sleep through the winter. While they are great seed-eaters they
also eat a great many insects and worms, and some of them even
are guilty of killing and eating the babies of birds that nest
on the ground, and also young mice.
“Some members of the family are almost as big as Happy Jack the
Gray Squirrel and have gray coats. They are called Gray Ground
Squirrels and sometimes Gray Gophers. One of the largest of these
is the California Ground Squirrel. He has a big, bushy tail, very
like Happy Jack's. He gets into so much mischief in the grain
fields and in the orchards that he is quite as much disliked as is
Jack Rabbit. This particular member of the family is quite as much
at home among rocks and tree roots as in open ground. He climbs low
trees for fruit and nuts, but prefers to stay on the ground. Now
just remember that the Chipmunks are Rock Squirrels and their cousins
the Spermophiles are Ground Squirrels. Now who of you has seen Timmy
the Flying Squirrel lately?”
“I haven't,” said Peter Rabbit.
“I haven't,” said Striped Chipmunk.
“I haven't,” said Happy Jack.
“I haven't,” said Chatterer.
“I have,” spoke up Jumper the Hare. “I saw him last evening just
after jolly, round, red Mr. Sun went to bed behind the Purple Hills
and the Black Shadows came creeping through the Green Forest. My,
I wish I could fly the way he can!”
Old Mother Nature shook her head disapprovingly. “Jumper,” said she,
“what is wrong with your eyes? When did you ever see Timmy fly?”
“Last night,” insisted Jumper stubbornly.
“Oh, no, you didn't,” retorted Old Mother Nature. “You didn't see
him fly, for the very good reason that he cannot fly any more than
you can. You saw him simply jump. Just remember that the only
animals in this great land who can fly are the Bats. Timmy the
Flying Squirrel simply jumps from the top of a tree and slides down
on the air to the foot of another tree. If you had used your eyes
you would have noticed that when he is in the air he never moves
his legs or arms, and he is always coming down, never going up,
excepting for a little at the end of his jump, as would be the case
if he could really fly. He hasn't any wings.”
“When he's flying, I mean jumping, he looks as if he had wings,”
insisted Jumper stubbornly.
“That is simply because I have given him a fold of skin between the
front and hind leg on each side,” explained Old Mother Nature.
“When he jumps he stretches his legs out flat, and that stretches
out those two folds of skin until they look almost like wings.
This is the reason he can sail so far when he jumps from a high
place. You've seen a bird, after flapping its wings to get going,
sail along with them outstretched and motionless. Timmy does the
same thing, only he gets going by jumping. You may have noticed
that he usually goes to the top of a tree before jumping; then he
can sail down a wonderfully long distance. His tail helps him to
keep his balance. If there is anything in the way, he can steer
himself around it. When he reaches the tree he is jumping for he
shoots up a little way and lands on the trunk not far above the
ground. Then he scampers up that tree to do it all over again.”
“But why don't we ever see him?” inquired Striped Chipmunk.
“Because, when the rest of you squirrels are out and about, he is
curled up in a little ball in his nest, fast asleep. Timmy likes
the night, especially the early evening, and doesn't like the
light of day.”
“How big is he?” asked Happy Jack, and looked a little sheepish as
if he were a wee bit ashamed of not being acquainted with one of
his own cousins.
“He is, if anything, a little smaller than Striped Chipmunk,”
replied Old Mother Nature. “Way out in the Far West he grows a
little bigger. His coat is a soft yellowish-brown above; beneath
he is all white. His fur is wonderfully soft. He has very large,
dark, soft eyes, especially suited for seeing at night. Then, he
is very lively and dearly loves to play. By nature he is gentle
and lovable.”
“Does he eat nuts like his cousins?” asked Peter Rabbit.
“He certainly does,” replied Old Mother Nature. “Also he eats
grubs and insects. He dearly loves a fat beetle. He likes meat
when he can get it.”
“Where does he make his home?” Peter inquired.
“Usually in a hole in a tree,” said Old Mother Nature. “He is very
fond of an old home of a Woodpecker. He makes a comfortable nest
of bark lining, grass, and moss, or any other soft material he can
find. Occasionally he builds an outside nest high up in a fork in
the branches of a tree. He likes to get into old buildings.”
“Does he have many enemies?” asked Happy Jack.
“The same enemies the rest of you have,” replied Old Mother Nature.
“But the one he has most reason to fear is Hooty the Owl, and that
is the one you have least reason to fear, because Hooty seldom hunts
by day.”
“Does he sleep all winter?” piped up Striped Chipmunk.
“Not as you do,” said Old Mother Nature. “In very cold weather he
sleeps, but if he happens to be living where the weather does not
get very cold, he is active all the year around. Now I guess this
is enough about the Squirrel family.”
“You've forgotten Johnny Chuck,” cried Peter.
Old Mother Nature laughed. “So I have,” said she. “That will
never do, never in the world. Johnny and his relatives, the
Marmots, certainly cannot be overlooked. We will take them for
our lesson to-morrow. Peter, you tell Johnny Chuck to come over
here to-morrow morning.”
CHAPTER VII Johnny Chuck Joins the Class
Peter Rabbit delivered Mother Nature's message to Johnny Chuck.
Johnny didn't seem at all pleased. He grumbled and growled to
himself. He didn't want to go to school. He didn't want to learn
anything about his relatives. He was perfectly satisfied with
things as they were. The truth is, Johnny Chuck was already
beginning to get fat with good living and he is naturally lazy.
As a rule he can find plenty to eat very near his home, so he
seldom goes far from his own doorstep. Peter left him grumbling
and growling, and chuckled to himself all the way back to the dear
Old Briar-patch. He knew that Johnny Chuck would not dare disobey
Old Mother Nature.
Sure enough, the next morning Johnny Chuck came waddling through
the Green Forest just as Old Mother Nature was about to open school.
He didn't look at all happy, and he didn't reply at all to the
greetings of the others. But when Old Mother Nature spoke to him
he was very polite.
“Good morning, Johnny Chuck,” said she.
Johnny bobbed his head and said, “Good morning.”
“I understand,” continued Old Mother Nature, “That you are not at
all interested in learning about your relatives. I am sorry for
any one who doesn't want to learn. The more one knows the better
fitted he is to take care of himself and do his part in the work of
the Great World. However, it wasn't for your benefit that I sent
word for you to be here this morning. It was for the benefit of
your friends and neighbors. Now sit up so that all can get a good
look at you.”
Johnny Chuck obediently sat up, and of course all the others stared
at him. It made him feel quite uncomfortable. “You remember,”
said Old Mother Nature, “how surprised you little folks were when
I told you that Johnny Chuck is a member of the Squirrel family.
Happy Jack, you go sit beside Johnny Chuck, and the rest of you
look hard at Happy Jack and Johnny and see if you do not see a
family resemblance.”
Seeing Happy Jack and Johnny Chuck sitting up side by side, Peter
Rabbit caught the resemblance at once. There was sort of family
look about them. “Why! Why-ee! Johnny Chuck does look like a
Squirrel,” he exclaimed.
“Of course he looks like a Squirrel, because he is one,” said Old
Mother Nature. “Johnny Chuck is very much bigger and so stout in
the body that he has none of the gracefulness of the true Squirrels.
But you will notice that the shape of his head is much the same as
that of Happy Jack. He has a Squirrel face when you come to look at
him closely. The Woodchucks, sometimes called Ground Hogs, though
why any one should call them this is more than I can understand,
belong to the Marmot branch of the Squirrel family, and wherever
found they look much alike.
“As you will notice, Johnny Chuck's coat is brownish-yellow, his
feet are very dark brown, almost black. His head is dark brown with
light gray on his cheeks. Beneath he is reddish-orange, including
his throat. His tail is short for a member of the Squirrel family,
and although it is bushy, it is not very big. He has a number of
whiskers and they are black. Some Woodchucks are quite gray, and
occasionally there is one who is almost, or wholly black, just as
there are black Gray Squirrels.
“Johnny, here, is not fond of the Green Forest, but loves the Old
orchard and the Green Meadows. In some parts of the country there
are members of his family who prefer to live just on the edge of the
Green Forest. You will notice that Johnny has stout claws. Those
are to help him dig, for all the Marmot family are great diggers.
What other use do you have for those claws, Johnny?”
“They help me to climb,” replied Johnny promptly.
“Climb!” exclaimed Peter Rabbit. “Who ever heard of a Woodchuck
climbing?”
“I can climb if I have to,” retorted Johnny Chuck indignantly. “I've
climbed up bushes and low trees lots of times, and if I can get a good
run first, I can climb up the straight trunk of a tree with rough bark
to the first branches--if they are not too far above ground. You ask
Reddy Fox if I can't; he knows.”
“That's quite true, Johnny,” said Old Mother Nature. “You can climb
a little, but as a real climber you are not much of a success. You
are better as a digger.”
“He certainly is all right as a digger,” exclaimed Peter Rabbit.
“My, how he can make the sand fly! Johnny Chuck certainly is right
at home when it comes to digging.”
“You ought to be thankful that he is,” said Old Mother Nature, “for
the holes he has dug have saved your life more than once. By the
way, Peter, since you are so well acquainted with those holes,
suppose you tell us what kind of a home Johnny Chuck has.”
Peter was delighted to air his knowledge. “The last one I was in,”
said he, “was a long tunnel slanting down for quite a distance and
then straightening out. The entrance was quite large with a big
heap of sand out in front of it. Down a little way the tunnel
grew smaller and then remained the same size all the rest of the way.
Way down at the farther end was a nice little bedroom with some grass
in it. There were one or two other little rooms, and there were two
branch tunnels leading up to the surface of the ground, making side
or back doorways. There was no sand around either of these, and they
were quite hidden by the long grass hanging over them. I don't
understand how Johnny made those doorways without leaving any sand
on the doorsteps.”
“Huh!” interrupted Johnny Chuck. “That was easy enough. I pushed
all the sand out of the main doorway so that there would be nothing
to attract the attention of any one passing near those back doorways.
Those back doorways are very handy in time of danger.”
“Do you always have three doorways?” asked Happy Jack.
“No,” replied Johnny Chuck. “Sometimes I have only two and once in
a while only one. But that isn't really safe, and I mean always to
have at least two.”
“Do you use the same house year after year?” piped up Striped Chipmunk.
Johnny shook his head. “No,” said he. “I dig a new hole each spring.
Mrs. Chuck and I like a change of scene. Usually my new home isn't
very far from my old one, because I am not fond of traveling.
Sometimes, however, if we cannot find a place that just suits us,
we go quite a distance.”
“Are your babies born down in that little bedroom in the ground?”
asked Jumper the Hare.
“Of course,” replied Johnny Chuck. “Where else would they be born?”
“I didn't know but Mrs. Chuck might make a nest on the ground the
way Mrs. Peter and Mrs. Jumper do,” replied Jumper meekly.
“No, siree!” replied Johnny. “Our babies are born in that little
underground bedroom, and they stay down in the ground until they
are big enough to hunt for food for themselves.”
“How many do you usually have?” inquired Chatterer the Red Squirrel.
“Six or eight,” replied Johnny Chuck. “Mrs. Chuck and I believe
in large families.”
“Do you eat nuts like the rest of our family?” inquired
Striped Chipmunk.
“No,” replied Johnny Chuck. “Give me green food every time. There
is nothing so good as tender sweet clover and young grass, unless
it be some of those fine vegetables Farmer Brown grows in his garden.”
Peter Rabbit nodded his head very emphatically as if he quite agreed.
“I suppose you are what is called a vegetarian, then,” said Happy
Jack, to which Johnny Chuck replied that he supposed he was. “And
I suppose that is why you sleep all winter,” added Happy Jack.
“If I didn't I would starve,” responded Johnny Chuck promptly.
“When it gets near time for Jack Frost to arrive, I stuff and stuff
and stuff on the last of the good green things until I'm so fat I
can hardly waddle. Then I go down to my bedroom, curl up and go
to sleep. Cold weather, snow and ice don't worry me a bit.”
“I know,” spoke up Striped Chipmunk. “I sleep most of the winter
myself. Of course I have a lot of food stored away down in my
house, and once in a while I wake up and eat a little. Do you
ever wake up in the winter, Johnny Chuck?”
“No,” replied Johnny. “I sleep right through, thank goodness.
Sometimes I wake up very early in the spring before the snow is
all gone, earlier than I wish I did. That is where my fat comes
in handy. It keeps me warm and keeps me alive until I can find
the first green plants. Perhaps you have noticed that early in
the spring I am as thin as I was fat in the fall. This is
because I have used up the fat, waiting for the first green
things to appear.”
“Do you have many enemies?” asked Peter Rabbit, who has so many
himself that he is constantly thinking of them.
“Not many, but enough,” growled Johnny Chuck. “Reddy Fox, Old Man
Coyote, men and Dogs are the worst. Of course, when I was small I
always had to be watching out for Hawks, and of course, like all
the rest of us little folks, I am afraid of Shadow the Weasel.
Reddy Fox has tried to dig me out more than once, but I can dig
faster than he can. If he ever gets me cornered, he'll find that I
can fight. A small Dog surprised me once before I could get to my
hole and I guess that Dog never will tackle another Woodchuck.”
“Time is up,” interrupted Old Mother Nature. “Johnny Chuck has a
big cousin out in the mountains of the Great West named Whistler,
and on the prairies of the Great West he has a smaller cousin named
Yap Yap. They are quite important members of the Marmot family, and
to-morrow I'll tell you about them if you want me to. You need not
come tomorrow, Johnny Chuck, unless you want to,” she added.
Johnny Chuck hung his head, for he was a little ashamed that he had
been so unwilling to come that morning.
“If you please, Mother Nature,” said he, “I think I'll come. I didn't
know I had any close relatives, and I want to know about them.”
So it was agreed that all would be on hand at sun-up the next
morning, and then everybody started for home to think over the
things they had learned.
CHAPTER VIII Whistler and Yap Yap
Johnny Chuck was the first one on hand the next morning. The fact
is, Johnny was quite excited over the discovery that he had some
near relatives. He always had supposed that the Woodchucks were a
family by themselves. Now that he knew that he had some close
relatives, he was filled with quite as much curiosity as ever Peter
Rabbit possessed. Just as soon as Old Mother Nature was ready to
begin, Johnny Chuck was ready with a question. “If you please,”
said he, “who are my nearest relatives?”
“The Marmots of the Far West,” replied Old Mother Nature. “You
know, you are a Marmot, and these cousins of yours out there are
a great deal like you in a general way. The biggest and handsomest
of all is Whistler, who lives in the mountains of the Northwest.
The fact is, he is the biggest of all the Marmot family.”
“Is he much bigger than Johnny Chuck?” asked Peter Rabbit.
“Considerably bigger,” replied Old Mother Nature, nodding her head.
“Considerably bigger. I should think he would weight twice as much
as Johnny.”
Johnny's eyes opened very wide. “My!” he exclaimed, “I should like
to see him. Does he look like me?”
“In his shape he does,” said Old Mother Nature, “but he has a very
much handsomer coat. His coat is a mixture of dark brown and white
hairs which give him a grayish color. The upper part of his head,
his feet and nails are black, and so are his ears. A black band
runs from behind each ear down to his neck. His chin is pure white
and there is white on his nose. Underneath he is a light, rusty
color. His fur is thicker and softer than yours, Johnny; this is
because he lives where it is colder. His tail is larger, somewhat
bushier, and is a blackish-brown.”
“If you please, why is he called Whistler?” asked Johnny Chuck eagerly.
“Because he has a sharp, clear whistle which can be heard a very long
distance,” replied Old Mother Nature. “He sits up just as you do.
If he sees danger approaching he whistles, as a warning to all his
relatives within hearing.”
“I suppose it is foolish to ask if he lives in a hole in the ground
as Johnny Chuck does,” spoke up Peter Rabbit.
“He does,” replied Old Mother Nature. “All Marmots live in holes in
the ground, but Whistler lives in entirely different country. He
lives up on the sides of the mountains, often so high that no trees
grow there and the ground is rocky. He digs his hole down in between
the rocks.”
“It must be a nice, safe hole,” said Peter. “I guess he doesn't
have to worry about being dug out by Reddy fox.”
“You guessed quite right,” laughed Old Mother Nature. “Nevertheless,
he has reason to fear being dug out. You see, out where he lives,
Grizzly, the big cousin of Buster Bear, also lives, and Grizzly is
very fond of a Marmot dinner when he can get one. He is so big and
strong and has such great claws that he can pull the rocks apart and
dig Whistler out. By the way, I forgot to tell you that Whistler is
also called the Gray Marmot and the Hoary Marmot. He lives on grass
and other green things and, like Johnny Chuck, gets very fat in the
fall and then sleeps all winter. There are one or two other Marmots
in the Far West who live farther south than does Whistler, but their
habits are much the same as those of Whistler and Johnny Chuck. None
of them are social. I mean by that you never find two Marmot homes
very close together. In this they differ from Johnny's smaller cousin,
Yap Yap the Prairie Dog. Yap Yap wouldn't be happy if he didn't have
close neighbors of his own kind. He has one of the most social
natures of all my little people.”
“Tell us about him,” begged Happy Jack Squirrel before Johnny Chuck,
who is naturally slow, could ask for the same thing.
“Yap Yap is the smallest of the Marmot family,” said Old Mother
Nature. “In a way he is about as closely related to the Ground
Squirrels as he is to the Marmots. Johnny Chuck has only four
claws on each front foot, but Yap Yap has five, just as the Ground
Squirrels have. He looks very much like a small Chuck dressed in
light yellow-brown. His tail for the most part is the same color
as his coat, but the end is black, though there is one member of
the family whose tail has a white tip. In each cheek is a small
pouch, that is, a small pocket, and this is one of the things that
shows how closely related to the Spermophiles he is.
“As I said before, Yap Yap is very social by nature. He lives on
the great open plains of the West and Southwest, frequently where it
is very dry and rain seldom falls. When you find his home you are
sure to find the homes of many more Prairie Dogs very close at hand.
Sometimes there are hundreds and hundreds of homes, making a regular
town. This is because the Prairie Dogs dearly love the company of
their own kind.”
“Does Yap Yap dig the same kind of a hole that I do?” asked
Johnny Chuck.
“In a way it is like yours,” replied Old Mother Nature, “but at the
same time it is different. In the first place, it goes almost
straight down for a long distance. In the second place there is no
mound of sand in front of Yap Yap's doorway. Instead of that the
doorway is right in the very middle of the mound of sand. One reason
for this is that when it does rain out where Yap Yap lives it rains
very hard indeed, so that the water stands on the ground for a short
time. The ground being flat, a lot of water would run down into
Yap Yap's home and make him most uncomfortable if he did not do
something to keep it out. So he brings the sand out and piles it
all the way around his doorway and presses it down with his nose.
In that way he builds up a firm mound which he uses for two purposes;
one is to keep the water from running down the hole, and the other is
as a sort of watch tower. He sits on the top of his mound to watch
for his enemies. His cousins with the white tail digs a hole more
like yours.
“Yap Yap loves to visit his neighbors and to have them visit him.
They are lively little people and do a great deal of talking among
themselves. The instant one of them sees an enemy he gives a signal.
Then every Prairie Dog scampers for his own hole and dives in head
first. Almost at once he pops his head out again to see what the
danger may be.”
“How can he do that without going clear to the bottom to turn
around?” demanded Peter.
“I wondered if any of you would think of that question,” chuckled
Old Mother Nature. “Just a little way down from the entrance Yap
Yap digs a little room at one side of his tunnel. All he has to do
is to scramble into that, turn around and then pop his head out.
As I said before, his tunnel goes down very deep; then it turns and
goes almost equally far underground. Down there he has a nice
little bedroom. Sometimes he has more than one.”
“If it is so dry out where he lives, how does he get water to drink?”
asked Happy Jack.
“He doesn't have to drink,” replied Old Mother Nature. “Some folks
think that he digs down until he finds water way down underneath,
but this isn't so. He doesn't have to have water. He gets all
the moisture he needs from the green things he eats.”
“I suppose, like the rest of us, he has lots of enemies?” said Peter.
Old Mother Nature nodded. “Of course,” said she. “Old Man Coyote
and Reddy Fox are very fond of Prairie Dog. So are members of the
Hawk family. Then in some places there is a cousin of Shadow the
Weasel called the Black-footed Ferret. He is to be feared most of
all because he can follow Yap Yap down into his hole. There is a
cousin of Hooty the Owl called the Burrowing Owl because it builds
its home in a hole in the ground. You are likely to find many
Burrowing Owls living in Prairie Dog villages. Also you are apt
to find Buzztail the Rattlesnake there.
“A lot of people believe that Yap Yap, Buzztail and the little
Burrowing Owl are the best of friends and often live together in
the same hole. This isn't so at all. Buzztail is very fond of
young Prairie Dog and so is the Burrowing Owl. Rather than dig a
hole for himself the Owl will sometimes take possession of one of
Yap Yap's deserted holes. If he should make a mistake and enter a
hole in which Yap Yap was at home, the chances are that Yap Yap
would kill the Owl for he knows that the Owl is an enemy. Buzztail
the Rattlesnake also makes use of Prairie Dog holes, but it is safe
to say that if there are any Prairie Dog babies down there they
never live to see what the outside world is like. So Buzztail
and the Burrowing Owl are really enemies instead of friends of
Yap Yap, the Prairie Dog.”
“Why is he called a Dog?” asked Peter.
Old Mother Nature laughed right out. “Goodness knows,” said she. “He
doesn't look like a Dog and he doesn't act like a Dog, so why people
should call him a Dog I don't know, unless it is because of his habit
of barking, and even his bark isn't at all like a Dog's--not nearly
so much so as the bark of Reddy Fox. Now I guess this will do for
to-day. Haven't you little folks had enough of school?”
“No,” cried Peter Rabbit and Jumper the Hare and Happy Jack and
Chatterer the Red Squirrel and Striped Chipmunk and Johnny Chuck.
“We want to know about the rest of the members of the order of
Rodents or Gnawers,” added Peter. “Of course in a way they are sort
of related to us and we want to know about them.”
Old Mother Nature laughed good-naturedly. “All right,” said she,
“come again to-morrow morning and we'll see what more we can learn.”
CHAPTER IX Two Queer Little Haymakers
There is nothing like a little knowledge to make one want more.
Johnny Chuck, who had gone to school only because Old Mother Nature
had sent for him, had become as full of curiosity as Peter Rabbit.
The discovery that he had a big, handsome cousin, Whistler the
Marmot, living in the mountains of the Far West, had given Johnny
something to think about. It seemed to Johnny such a queer place
for a member of his family to live that he wanted to know more
about it. So Johnny had a question all ready when Old Mother
Nature called school to order the next morning.
“If you please, Mother Nature,” said he, “does my cousin, Whistler,
have any neighbors up among those rocks where he lives?”
“He certainly does,” replied Old Mother Nature, nodding her head.
“He has for a near neighbor one of the quaintest and most interesting
little members of the big order to which you all belong. And that
order is what?” she asked abruptly.
“The order of Rodents,” replied Peter Rabbit promptly.
“Right, Peter,” replied Old Mother Nature, smiling at Peter. “I
asked that just to see if you really are learning. I wanted to
make sure that I am not wasting my time with you little folks.
Now this little neighbor of Whistler is Little Chief Hare.”
Instantly Peter Rabbit and Jumper the Hare pricked up their long
ears and became more interested than ever, if that were possible.
“I thought you had told us all about our family,” cried Jumper,
“but you didn't mention Little Chief.”
“No,” said Old Mother Nature, “I didn't, and the reason I didn't
was because Little Chief isn't a member of your family. He is
called Little Chief Hare, but he isn't a Hare at all, although he
looks much like a small Rabbit with short hind legs and rounded
ears. He has a family all to himself and should be called a Pika.
Some folks do call him that, but more call him a Cony, and some
call him the Crying Hare. This is because he uses his voice a
great deal, which is something no member of the Hare family does.
In size he is just about as big as one of your half-grown babies,
Peter, so, you see, he really is a very little fellow. His coat
is grayish-brown. His ears are of good size, but instead of being
long, are round. He has small bright eyes. His legs are short,
his hind legs being very little longer than his front ones. He
has hair on the soles of his feet just like the members of the
hare family.”
“What about his tail?” piped up Peter Rabbit. You know Peter is
very much interested in tails.
Old Mother Nature smiled. “He is worse off than you, Peter,” said
she, “for he hasn't any at all. That is, he hasn't any that can be
seen. He lives way up among the rocks of the great mountains above
where the trees grow and often is a very near neighbor to Whistler.”
“I suppose that means that he makes his home down in under rocks,
the same as Whistler does,” spoke up Johnny Chuck.
“Right,” replied Old Mother Nature. “He is such a little fellow
that he can get through very narrow places, and he has his home
and barns way down in among the rocks.”
“Barns!” exclaimed Happy Jack Squirrel. “Barns! What do you mean
by barns?”
Old Mother Nature laughed. “I just call them barns,” said she,
“because they are the places where he stores away his hay, just as
Farmer Brown stores away his hay in his barn. I suppose you would
call them storehouses.”
At the mention of hay, Peter Rabbit sat bolt upright and his eyes
were wide open with astonishment. “Did you say hay?” he exclaimed.
“Where under the sun does he get hay way up there, and what does
he want of it?”
There was a twinkle in Old Mother Nature's eyes as she replied,
“He makes that hay just as you see Farmer Brown make hay every
summer. It is what he lives on in the winter and in bad weather.
Little Chief knows just as much about the proper way of making hay
as Farmer Brown does. Even way up among the rocks there are places
where grass and peas-vines and other green things grow. Little
Chief lives on these in summer. But he is as wise and thrifty as
any Squirrel, another way in which he differs from the Hare family.
He cuts them when they are ready for cutting and spreads them out
on the rocks to dry in the sun. He knows that if he should take
them down into his barns while they are fresh and green they would
sour and spoil; so he never stores them away until they are
thoroughly dry. Then, of course, they are hay, for hay is nothing
but sun-dried grass cut before it has begun to die. When his hay
is just as dry as it should be, he takes it down and stores it away
in his barns, which are nothing but little caves down in among the
rocks. There he has it for use in winter when there is no green food.
“Little Chief is so nearly the color of the rocks that it takes
sharp eyes to see him when he is sitting still. He has a funny
little squeaking voice, and he uses it a great deal. It is a funny
voice because it is hard to tell just where it comes from. It seems
to come from nowhere in particular. Sometimes he can be heard
squeaking way down in his home under the rocks. Like Johnny Chuck,
he prefers to sleep at night and be abroad during the day. Because
he is so small he must always be on the lookout for enemies. At the
first hint of danger he scampers to safety in among the rocks, and
there he scolds whoever has frightened him. There is no more
loveable little person in all my great family than this little
haymaker of the mountains of the Great West.”
“That haymaking is a pretty good idea of Little Chief's,” remarked
Peter Rabbit, scratching a long ear with a long hind foot. “I've
a great mind to try it myself.”
Everybody laughed right out, for everybody knew just how easy-going
and thriftless Peter was. Peter himself grinned. He couldn't
help it.
“That would be a very good idea, Peter,” said Old Mother Nature.
“By the way, there is another haymaker out in those same great
mountains of the Far West.”
“Who?” demanded Peter and Johnny Chuck and Happy Jack Squirrel,
all in the same breath.
“Stubtail the Mountain Beaver,” declared Peter promptly. “I
suppose Stubtail is his cousin.”
Old Mother Nature shook her head. “No,” said she. “No. Stubtail
and Paddy are no more closely related than the rest of you. Stubtail
isn't a Beaver at all. His proper name is Sewellel. Sometimes he
is called Showt'l and sometimes the Boomer, and sometimes the
Chehalis, but most folks call him the Mountain Beaver.”
“Is it because he looks like Paddy the Beaver?” Striped Chipmunk asked.
“No,” replied Old Mother Nature. “He looks more like Jerry Muskrat
than he does like Paddy. He is about Jerry's size and looks very
much as Jerry would if he had no tail.”
“Hasn't he any tail at all?” asked Peter.
“Yes, he has a little tail, a little stub of a tail, but it is so
small that to look at him you would think he hadn't any,” replied
Old Mother Nature. “He is found out in the same mountains of the
Far West where Whistler and Little Chief live, but instead of
living way up high among the rocks he is at home down in the valleys
where the ground is soft and the trees grow thickly. Stubtail has
no use for rocks. He wants soft, wet ground where he can tunnel
and tunnel to his heart's content. In one thing Stubtail is very
like Yap Yap the Prairie Dog.”
“What is that?” asked Johnny Chuck quickly, for, you know, Yap Yap
is Johnny's cousin.
“In his social habits,” replied Old Mother Nature. “Stubtail isn't
fond of living alone. He wants company of his own kind. So wherever
you find Stubtail you are likely to find many of his family. They
like to go visiting back and forth. They make little paths between
their homes and all about through the thick ferns, and they keep
these little paths free and clear, so that they may run along them
easily. Some of these little paths lead into long tunnels. These
are made for safety. Usually the ground is so wet that there will
be water running in the bottoms of these little tunnels.”
“What kind of a house does Stubtail have?” inquired Johnny
Chuck interestedly.
“A hole in the ground, of course,” replied Old Mother Nature. “It
is dug where the ground is drier than where the runways are made.
Mrs. Stubtail makes a nest of dried ferns and close by they build
two or three storehouses, for Stubtail and Mrs. Stubtail are
thrifty people.”
“I suppose he fills them with hay, for you said he is a haymaker,”
remarked Happy Jack Squirrel, who is always interested in storehouses.
“Yes,” replied Old Mother Nature, “he puts hay in them. He cuts
grasses, ferns, pea-vines and other green plants and carries them
in little bundles to the entrance to his tunnel. There he piles
them on sticks so as to keep them off he damp ground and so that
the air can help dry them out. When they are dry, he takes them
inside and stores them away. He also stores other things. He likes
the roots of ferns. He cuts tender, young twigs from bushes and
stores away some of these. He is fond of bark. In winter he is
quite as active as in summer and tunnels about under the snow.
Then he sometimes has Peter Rabbit's bad habit of killing trees
by gnawing bark all around as high up as he can reach.”
“Can he climb trees?” asked Chatterer the Red Squirrel.
“Just about as much as Johnny Chuck can,” replied Old Mother Nature.
“Sometimes he climbs up in low bushes or in small, low-branching
trees to cut off tender shoots, but he doesn't do much of this sort
of thing. His home is the ground. He is most active at night, but
where undisturbed, is out more or less during the day. When he wants
to cut off a twig he sits up like a Squirrel and holds the twig in
his hands while he bites it off with his sharp teeth.”
“You didn't tell us what color his coat is,” said Peter Rabbit.
“I told you he looked very much like Jerry Muskrat,” replied Old
Mother Nature. “His coat is brown, much the color of Jerry's, but
his fur is not nearly so soft and fine.”
“I suppose he has enemies just as the rest of us little people have,”
said Peter.
“Of course,” replied Old Mother Nature. “All little people have
enemies, and most big ones too, for that matter. King Eagle is one
and Yowler the Bob Cat is another. They are always watching for
Stubtail. That is why he digs so many tunnels. He can travel under
the ground then. My goodness, how time flies! Scamper home, all of
you, for I have too much to do to talk any more to-day.”
CHAPTER X Prickly Porky and Grubby Gopher
All the way to school the next morning Peter Rabbit wondered who
they would learn about that day. He was so busy wondering that he
was heedless. Peter is apt to be heedless at times. The result
was that as he hopped out of a bramble-tangle just within the edge
of the Green Forest, he all but landed in something worse than the
worst brambles that ever grew. It was only by a wild side jump
that he saved himself. Peter had almost landed among the thousand
little spears of Prickly Porky the Porcupine.
“Gracious!” exclaimed Peter.
“Why don't you look where you are going,” grunted Prickly Porky.
Plainly he was rather peevish. “It wouldn't be my fault if you had
a few of my little spears sticking in you this very minute, and it
would serve you right.” He waddled along a few steps, then began
talking again. “I don't see why Old Mother Nature sent for me this
morning,” he grumbled. “I hate a long walk.”
Peter pricked up his long ears. “I know!” he cried. “You're going
to school, Prickly Porky. You're a Rodent, and we are going to
learn all about you this morning.”
“I'm not a Rodent; I'm a Porcupine,” grunted Prickly Porky indignantly.
“You're a Rodent just the same. You've got big gnawing teeth, and
any one with that kind of teeth is a Rodent,” retorted Peter. Then
at a sudden thought a funny look passed over his face. “Why, that
means that you and I are related in a way,” he added.
“Don't believe it,” grunted Prickly Porky, still shuffling along.
“Don't believe it. Don't want to be related to anybody as
heedless as you. What is this school, anyway? Don't want to go to
school. Know all I want to know. Know how to get all I want to eat
and how to make everybody get out of my way and leave me alone, and
that's enough to know.” He rattled the thousand little spears
hidden in his coat, and Peter shivered at the sound. It was a most
unpleasant sound.
“Well, some folks do like to be stupid,” snapped Peter and hurried
on, lipperty-lipperty-lip, while Prickly Porky slowly shuffled and
rattled along behind.
All the others were there when Peter arrived. Prickly Porky wasn't
even in sight. Old Mother Nature wasted no time. She has too much
to do ever to waste time. She called the school to order at once.
“Yesterday,” she began, “I told you about two little haymakers of
the high mountains of the Far West. Who were they, Peter Rabbit?”
“Little Chief Hare, called the Pika or Cony, and Stubtail the
Mountain Beaver or Sewellel,” replied Peter with great promptness.
“Right,” said Old Mother Nature. “Now I am going to tell you of
one of my little plowmen who also lives in the Far West but prefers
the great plains to the high mountains, though he is sometimes
found in the latter. He is Grubby the Gopher, a member of the
same order the rest of you belong to, but of a family quite his
own. He is properly called the Pocket Gopher, and way down in
the Southeast, where he is also found, he is called a Salamander,
though what for I haven't the least idea.”
“Does he have pockets in his cheeks like mine?” asked Striped
Chipmunk eagerly.
“He has pockets in his cheeks, and that is why he is called Pocket
Gopher,” replied Old Mother Nature; “but they are not at all like
yours, Striped Chipmunk. Yours are on the inside of your cheeks,
but his are on the outside.”
“How funny!” exclaimed Striped Chipmunk.
“Your pockets are small compared with those of Grubby,” continued
Old Mother Nature. “One of his covers almost the whole side of
his head back to his short neck, and it is lined with fur, and
remember he has two of them. Grubby uses these for carrying food
and never for carrying out earth when he is digging a tunnel, as
some folks think he does. He stuffs them full with his front feet
and empties them by pressing them from the back with his feet.
The Gopher family is quite large and the members range in size
from the size of Danny Meadow Mouse to that of Robber the Rat,
only these bigger members are stouter and heavier than Robber.
Some are reddish-brown and some are gray. But whatever his size
and wherever he is found, Grubby's habits are the same.”
All this time Peter Rabbit had been fidgeting about. It was quite
clear that Peter had something on his mind. Now as Old Mother
Nature paused, Peter found the chance he had been waiting for.
“If you please, why did you call him a plowman?” he asked eagerly.
“I'm coming to that all in due time,” replied Old Mother Nature,
smiling at Peter's eagerness. “Grubby Gopher spends most of his
life underground, very much like Miner the Mole, whom you all
know. He can dig tunnels just about as fast. His legs are short,
and his front legs and feet are very stout and strong. They are
armed with very long, strong claws and it is with these and the
help of his big cutting teeth that Grubby digs. He throws the
earth under him and then kicks it behind him with his hind feet.
When he has quite a pile behind him he turns around, and with his
front feet and head pushes it along to a little side tunnel and
then up to the surface of the ground. As soon as he has it all
out he plugs up the opening and goes back to digging. The loose
earth he has pushed out makes little mounds, and he makes one of
these mounds every few feet.
“Grubby is a great worker. He is very industrious. Since he is
underground, it doesn't make much difference to him whether it be
night or day. In summer, during the hottest part of the day, he
rests. His eyes are small and weak because he has little use for
them, coming out on the surface very seldom and then usually in
the dusk. He has a funny little tail without any hair on it; this
is very sensitive and serves him as a sort of guide when he runs
backward along his tunnel, which he can do quite fast. A funny
thing about those long claws on his front feet is that he folds
them under when he is walking or running. Do any of you know why
Farmer Brown plows his garden?”
As she asked this, Old Mother Nature looked from one to another,
and each in turn shook his head. “It is to mix the dead vegetable
matter thoroughly with the earth so that the roots of the plants
may get it easily,” explained Old Mother Nature. “By making those
tunnels in every direction and bringing up the earth below to the
surface, Grubby Gopher does the same thing. That is why I call
him my little plowman. He loosens up the hard, packed earth and
mixes the vegetable matter with it and so makes it easy for seeds
to sprout and plants to grow.”
“Then he must be one of the farmer's best friends,” spoke up
Happy Jack Squirrel.
Old Mother Nature shook her head. “He has been in the past,” said
she. “He has done a wonderful work in helping make the land fit
for farming. But where land is being farmed he is a dreadful
pest, I am sorry to say. You see he eats the crops the farmer
tries to raise, and the new mounds he is all the time throwing up
bury a lot of the young plants, and in the meadows make it very
hard to use a mowing machine for cutting hay. Then Grubby gets
into young orchards and cuts off all the tender roots of young
trees. This kills them. You see he is fond of tender roots,
seeds, stems of grass and grain, and is never happier than when
he can find a field of potatoes.
“Being such a worker, he has to have a great deal to eat. Then,
too, he stores away a great deal for winter, for he doesn't sleep
in winter as Johnny Chuck does. He even tunnels about under the
snow. Sometimes he fills these little snow tunnels with the earth
he brings up from below, and when the snow melts it leaves queer
little earth ridges to show where the tunnels were.
“Grubby is very neat in his habits and keeps his home and himself
very clean. During the day he leaves one of his mounds open for
a little while to let in fresh air. But it is only for a little
while. Then he closes it again. He doesn't dare leave it open
very long, for fear Shadow the Weasel or a certain big Snake called
the Gopher Snake will find it and come in after him. Digger the
Badger is the only one of his enemies who can dig fast enough to
dig him out, but at night, when he likes to come out for a little
air or to cut grain and grass, he must always watch for Hooty the
Owl. Old Man Coyote and members of the Hawk family are always
looking for him by day, so you see he has plenty of enemies, like
the rest of you.
“He got the name Gopher because that comes from a word meaning
honeycomb, and Grubby's tunnels go in every direction until the
ground is like honeycomb. He isn't a bit social and has rather
a mean disposition. He is always ready to fight. On the plains
he has done a great deal to make the soil fine and rich, as I have
already told you, but on hillsides he does a great deal of harm.
The water runs down his tunnels and washes away the soil. Because
of this and the damage he does to crops, man is his greatest
enemy. But man has furnished him with new and splendid foods easy
to get, and so Grubby's family increases faster than it used to,
in spite of traps and poison. Hello! See who's here! It is
about time.”
There was a shuffling and rattling and grunting, and Prickly
Porky climbed up on an old stump, looking very peevish and much
out of sorts. He had come to school much against his will.
CHAPTER XI A Fellow With a Thousand Spears
“There,” said Old Mother Nature, pointing to Prickly Porky the
Porcupine, “is next to the largest member of your order, which is?”
“Order of Rodents,” piped up Striped Chipmunk.
“He is not only next to the largest, but is the stupidest,” continued
Old Mother Nature. “At least that is what people say of him, though
I suspect he isn't as stupid as he sometimes seems. Anyway, he
manages to keep well fed and escape his enemies, which is more than
can be said for some others who are supposed to have quick wits.”
“Escaping his enemies is no credit to him. They are only too glad
to keep out of his way; he doesn't have to fear anybody,” said
Chatterer the Red Squirrel to his cousin, Happy Jack.
His remark didn't escape the keen ears of Old Mother Nature. “Are
you sure about that?” she demanded. “Now there's Pekan the Fisher-”
She was interrupted by a great rattling on the old stump. Everybody
turned to look. There was Prickly Porky backing down as fast as he
could, which wasn't fast at all, and rattling his thousand little
spears as he did so. It was really very funny. Everybody had to
laugh, even Old Mother Nature. You see, it was plain that he was
in a great hurry, yet every movement was slow and clumsy.
“Well, Prickly Porky, what does this mean? Where are you going?”
demanded Old Mother Nature.
Prickly Porky turned his dull-looking eyes towards her, and in them
was a troubled, worried look. “Where's Pekan the Fisher?” he asked,
and his voice shook a little with something very much like fear.
Old Mother Nature understood instantly. When she had said, “Now
there's Pekan the Fisher,” Prickly Porky had waited to hear no
more. He had instantly thought that she meant that Pekan was
right there somewhere. “It's all right, Prickly Porky,” said she.
“Pekan isn't anywhere around here, so climb back on that stump and
don't worry. Had you waited for me to finish, you would have saved
yourself a fright. Chatterer had just said that you didn't have
to fear anybody and I was starting to explain that he was wrong,
that despite your thousand little spears you have reason to fear
Pekan the Fisher.”
Prickly Porky shivered and this made the thousand little spears in
his coat rattle. It was such a surprising thing to see Prickly Porky
actually afraid that the other little folks almost doubted their own
eyes. “Are you quite sure that Pekan isn't anywhere around?” asked
Prickly Porky, and his voice still shook.
“Quite sure,” replied Old Mother Nature. “If he were I wouldn't
allow him to hurt you. You ought to know that. Now sit up so
that every one can get a good look at you.”
Prickly Porky sat up, and the others gathered around the foot of
the stump to look at him. “He certainly is no beauty,” murmured
Happy Jack Squirrel.
Happy Jack was quite right. He was anything but handsome. The
truth is he was the homeliest, clumsiest-looking fellow in all
the Green Forest. He was a little bigger than Bobby Coon and his
body was thick and heavy-looking. His back humped up like an
arch. His head was rather small for the size of his body, short
and rather round. His neck was even shorter. His eyes were small
and very dull. It was plain that he couldn't see far, or clearly
unless what he was looking at was close at hand. His ears were
small and nearly hidden in hair. His front teeth, the gnawing
teeth which showed him to be a Rodent, were very large and bright
orange. His legs were short and stout. He had four toes on each
front foot and five on each hind foot, and these were armed with
quite long, stout claws.
But the queerest thing and the most interesting thing about Prickly
Porky was his coat. Not one among the other little people of the
Green Forest has a coat anything like his. Most of them have a
soft, short under fur protected and more or less hidden by longer,
coarser hair. Prickly Porky had the long coarse hair and on his
back it was very long and coarse, brownish-black in color up to
the tips, which were white. Under this long hair was some soft
woolly fur, but what that long hair hid chiefly was an array of
wicked-looking little spears called quills. They were white to the
tips, which were dark and very, very sharply pointed. All down the
sides were tiny barbs, so small as hardly to be seen, but there
just the same. On his head the quills were about an inch long,
but on his back they were four inches long, becoming shorter
towards the tail. The latter was rather short, stout, and covered
with short quills.
As he sat there on that old stump some of Prickly Porky's little
spears could be seen peeping out from the long hair on his back,
but they didn't look particularly dangerous. Peter Rabbit
suddenly made a discovery. “Why!” he exclaimed. “He hasn't any
little spears on the under side of him!”
“I wondered who would be the first to notice that,” said Old Mother
Nature. “No, Prickly Porky hasn't any little spears underneath,
and Pekan the Fisher has found that out. He knows that if he can
turn Prickly Porky on his back he can kill him without much danger
from those little spears, and he has learned how to do that very
thing. That is why Prickly Porky is afraid of him. Now, Prickly
Porky, climb down off that stump and show these little folks what
you do when an enemy comes near.”
Grumbling and growling, Prickly Porky climbed down to the ground.
Then he tucked his head down between his front paws and suddenly
the thousand little spears appeared all over him, pointing in
every direction until he looked like a giant chestnut burr. Then
he began to thrash his tail from side to side.
“What is he doing that for?” asked Johnny Chuck, looking
rather puzzled.
“Go near enough to be hit by it, and you'll understand,” said Old
Mother Nature dryly. “That is his one weapon. Whoever is hit by
that tail will find himself full of those little spears and will
take care never to go near Prickly Porky again. Once those little
spears have entered the skin, they keep working in deeper and
deeper, and more than one of his enemies has been killed by them.
On account of those tiny barbs they are hard to pull out, and
pulling them out hurts dreadfully. Just try one and see.”
But no one was anxious to try, so Old Mother Nature paused only a
moment. “You will notice that he moves that tail quickly,” she
continued. “It is the only thing about him which is quick. When
he has a chance, in time of danger, he likes to get his head
under a log or rock, instead of putting it between his paws as he
is doing now. Then he plants his feet firmly and waits for a
chance to use that tail.”
“Is it true that he can throw those little spears at folks?”
asked Peter.
Old Mother Nature shook her head. “There isn't a word of truth in
it,” she declared. “That story probably was started by some one
who was hit by his tail, and it was done so quickly that the victim
didn't see the tail move and so thought the little spears were
thrown at him.”
“How does he make all those little spears stand up that way?”
asked Jumper the Hare.
“He has a special set of muscles for just that purpose,” explained
Old Mother Nature.
“When those quills stick into some one they must pull out of
Prickly Porky's own skin; I should think that would hurt him,”
spoke up Striped Chipmunk.
“Not at all,” replied Old Mother Nature. “They are very loosely
fastened in his skin and come out at the least little pull. New
Ones grow to take the place of those he loses. Notice that he
puts his whole foot flat on the ground just as Buster Bear and
Bobby Coon do, and just as those two-legged creatures called men
do. Very few animals do this, and those that do are said to be
plantigrade. Now, Prickly Porky, tell us what you eat and where
you make your home, and that will end today's lesson.”
“I eat bark, twigs and leaves mostly,” grunted Prickly Porky
ungraciously. “I like hemlock best of all, but also eat poplar,
pine and other trees for a change. Sometimes I stay in a tree for
days until I have stripped it of all its bark and leaves. I don't
see any sense in moving about any more than is necessary.”
“But that must kill the tree!” exclaimed Peter Rabbit.
“Well, what of it?” demanded Prickly Porky crossly. “There are
plenty of trees. In summer I like lily pads and always get them
when I can.”
“Can you swim?” asked Peter eagerly.
“Of course,” grunted Prickly Porky.
“I never see you out on the Green Meadows,” said Peter.
“And you never will,” retorted Prickly Porky. “The Green Forest
for me every time. Summer or winter, I'm at home there.”
“Don't you sleep through the cold weather the way Buster Bear and
I do?” asked Johnny Chuck.
“What should I sleep for?” grumbled Prickly Porky. “Cold weather
doesn't bother me. I like it. I have the Green Forest pretty much
to myself then. I like to be alone. And as long as there are trees,
there is plenty to eat. I sleep a great deal in the daytime because
I like night best.”
“What about your home?” asked Happy Jack.
“Home is wherever I happen to be, most of the time, but Mrs. Porky
has a home in a hollow log or a cave or under the roots of a tree
where the babies are born. I guess that's all I've got to tell you.”
“You might add that those babies are big for the size of their
mother and have a full supply of quills when they are born,” said
Old Mother Nature. “And you forgot to say how fond of salt you
are, and how often this fondness gets you into trouble around the
camps of men. Your fear of Pekan the Fisher we all saw. I might
add that Puma the Panther is to be feared at times, and when he
is very hungry Buster Bear will take a chance on turning you on
your back. By the way, don't any of you call Prickly Porky a
Hedgehog. He isn't any thing of the kind. He is sometimes called
a Quill Pig, but his real name, Porcupine, is best. He has no
near relatives. Tomorrow morning, instead of meeting here, we'll
hold school on the shore of the pond Paddy the Beaver has made.
School is dismissed.”
CHAPTER XII A Lumberman and Engineer
Johnny Chuck and Striped Chipmunk were the only ones who were not
on hand at the pond of Paddy the Beaver deep in the Green Forest
at sun-up the next morning. Johnny and Striped Chipmunk were
afraid to go so far from home. To the surprise of everybody,
Prickly Porky was there.
“He must have traveled all night to get here he is such a slow-poke,”
said Peter Rabbit to his cousin, Jumper the Hare.
Peter wasn't far from the truth. But how ever he got there, there
he was, reaching for lily pads from an old log which lay half in
the water, and appearing very well satisfied with life. You know
there is nothing like a good meal of things you like, to make
everything seem just as it should.
Old Mother Nature seated herself on one end of Paddy's dam and
called the school to order. Just as she did so a brown head
popped out of the water close by and a pair of anxious eyes looked
up at Old Mother Nature.
“It is quite all right, Paddy,” said she softly. “These little
folks are trying to gain a little knowledge of themselves and
other folks, and we are going to have this morning's lesson right
here because it is to be about you.”
Paddy the Beaver no longer looked anxious. There was a sparkle in
his eyes. “May I stay?” he asked eagerly. “If there is a chance
to learn anything I don't want to miss it.”
Before Old Mother Nature could reply Peter Rabbit spoke up. “But
the lesson is to be about you and your family. Do you expect to
learn anything about yourself?” he demanded, and chuckled as if he
thought that a great joke.
“It seems to me that some one named Peter learned a great deal about
his own family when he first came to school to me,” said Old Mother
Nature. Peter had grace enough to hang his head and look ashamed.
“Of course you may stay, Paddy. In fact, I want you to. There are
some things I shall want you to explain. That is why we are holding
school over here this morning. Just come up here on your dam where
we can all get a good look at you.”
Paddy the Beaver climbed out on his dam. It was the first time
Happy Jack Squirrel ever had seen him out of water, and Happy Jack
gave a little gasp of surprise. “I had no idea he is so big!”
he exclaimed.
“He is the biggest of all the Rodents in this country, and one of
the biggest in all the Great World. Also he is the smartest
member of the whole order,” said Old Mother Nature.
“He doesn't look it,” said Chatterer the Squirrel with a saucy
jerk of his tail.
“Which means, I suppose, that you haven't the least doubt that you
are quite as smart as he,” said Old Mother Nature quietly, and
Chatterer looked both guilty and a little bit ashamed. “I'll admit
that you are smart, Chatterer, but often it is in a wrong way.
Paddy is smart in the very best way. He is a lumberman, builder
and engineer. A lot of my little people are workers, but they are
destructive workers. The busier they are, the more they destroy.
Paddy the Beaver is a constructive worker. That means that he is a
builder instead of a destroyer.”
“How about all those trees he cuts down? If that isn't destroying,
I don't know what is!” said Chatterer, and with each word jerked
his tail as if somehow his tongue and tail were connected.
“So it is,” replied Old Mother Nature good-naturedly. “But just
think of the number of trees you destroy.”
“I never have destroyed a tree in my life!” declared
Chatterer indignantly.
“Yes, you have,” retorted Old Mother Nature.
“I never have!” contradicted Chatterer, quite forgetting to whom
he was speaking.
But Old Mother Nature overlooked this. “I don't suppose you ever
ate a chestnut or a fat hickory nut or a sweet beechnut,” said
she softly.
“Of course,” retorted Chatterer sharply. “I've eaten ever and
ever and ever so many of them. What of it?”
In the heart of each one was a little tree, explained Old Mother
Nature. “But for you very many of those little trees would have
sprung up and some day would have made big trees. So you see for
every tree Paddy has destroyed you probably have destroyed a
hundred. You eat the nuts that you may live. Paddy cuts down the
trees that he may live, for the bark of those trees is his food.
Like Prickly Porky he lives chiefly on bark. But, unlike Prickly
Porky, he doesn't destroy a tree for the bark alone. He wastes
nothing. He makes use of every bit of that tree. He does something
for the Green Forest in return for the trees he takes.”
Chatterer looked at Happy Jack and blinked in a puzzled way.
Happy Jack looked at Peter Rabbit and blinked. Peter looked at
Jumper the Hare and blinked. Jumper looked at Prickly Porky and
blinked. Then all looked at Paddy the Beaver and finally at Old
Mother Nature, and all blinked. Old Mother Nature chuckled.
“Don't you think the Green Forest is more beautiful because of
this little pond?” she asked. Everybody nodded. “Of course,” she
continued. “But there wouldn't be any little pond here were it
not for Paddy and the trees he has cut. He destroyed the trees in
order to make the pond. That is what I meant when I called him a
constructive worker. Now I want you all to take a good look at
Paddy. Then he will show us just how as a lumberman he cuts
trees, as a builder he constructs houses and dams, and as an
engineer he digs canals.”
As Paddy sat there on his dam, he looked rather like a giant member
of the Rat family, though his head was more like that of a Squirrel
than a Rat. His body was very thick and heavy, and in color he
was dark brown, lighter underneath than above. Squatting there
on the dam his back was rounded. All together, he was a very
clumsy-looking fellow.
Peter Rabbit appeared to be interested in just one thing, Paddy's
tail. He couldn't keep his eyes off it.
Old Mother Nature noticed this. “Well, Peter,” said she, “what
have you on your mind now?”
“That tail,” replied Peter. “That's the queerest tail I've ever
seen. I should think it would be heavy and dreadfully in the way.”
Old Mother Nature laughed. “If you ask him Paddy will tell you
that that tail is the handiest tail in the Green Forest,” said she.
“There isn't another like it in all the Great World, and if you'll
be patient you will see just how handy it is.”
It was a queer-looking tail. It was broad and thick and flat, oval
in shape, and covered with scales instead of hair. Just then Jumper
the Hare made a discovery. “Why!” he exclaimed, “Paddy has feet
like Honker the Goose!”
“Only my hind feet,” said Paddy. “They have webs between the toes
just as Honker's have. That is for swimming. But there are no
webs between my fingers.” He held up a hand for all to see. Sure
enough, the fingers were free.
“Now that everybody has had a good look at you, Paddy,” said Old
Mother Nature, “suppose you swim over to where you have been
cutting trees. We will join you there, and then you can show us
just how you work.”
Paddy slipped into the water, where for a second or two he floated
with just his head above the surface. Then he quickly raised his
broad, heavy tail and brought it down on the water with a slap that
sounded like the crack of a terrible gun. It was so loud and
unexpected that every one save Old Mother Nature and Prickly Porky
jumped with fright. Peter Rabbit happened to be right on the edge
of the dam and, because he jumped before he had time to think, he
jumped right into the water with a splash. Now Peter doesn't like
the water, as you know, and he scrambled out just as fast as ever
he could. How the others did laugh at him.
“What did he do that for?” demanded Peter indignantly. “To show
you one use he has for that handy tail,” replied Old Mother Nature.
“That is the way he gives warning to his friends whenever he
discovers danger. Did you notice how he used his tail to aid him
in swimming? He turns it almost on edge and uses it as a rudder.
Those big, webbed hind feet are the paddles which drive him through
the water. He can stay under water a long time--as much as five
minutes. See, he has just come up now.”
Sure enough, Paddy's head had just appeared clear across the pond
almost to the opposite shore, and he was now swimming on the surface.
Old Mother Nature at once led the way around the pond to a small
grove of poplar trees which stood a little way back from the water.
Paddy was already there. “Now,” said Old Mother Nature “show us what
kind of a lumberman you are.”
Paddy picked out a small tree, sat up much as Happy Jack Squirrel
does, but with his big flat tail on the ground to brace him,
seized the trunk of the tree in both hands, and went to work with
his great orange-colored cutting teeth. He bit out a big chip.
Then another and another. Gradually he worked around the tree.
After a while the tree began to sway and crack. Paddy bit out two
or three more chips, then suddenly slapped the ground with his
tail as a warning and scampered back to a safe distance. He was
taking no chances of being caught under that falling tree.
The tree fell, and at once Paddy returned to work. The smaller
branches he cut off with a single bite at the base of each.
The larger ones required a number of bites. Then he set to work
to cut the trunk up in short logs. At this point Old Mother
Nature interrupted.
“Now show us,” said she, “what you do with the logs.”
Paddy at once got behind a log, and by pushing, rolled it ahead
of him until at last it fell with a splash in the water of a ditch
or canal which led from near that grove of trees to the pond.
Paddy followed into the water and began to push it ahead of him
towards the pond.
“That will do,” spoke up Old Mother Nature. “Come out and show us
how you take the branches.”
Obediently Paddy climbed out and returned to the fallen tree. There
he picked up one of the long branches in his mouth, grasping it near
the butt, twisted it over his shoulder and started to drag it to
the canal. When he reached the latter he entered the water and began
swimming, still dragging the branch in the same way. Once more Old
Mother Nature stopped him. “You've shown us how you cut trees and
move them, so now I want you to answer a few questions,” said she.
Paddy climbed out and squatted on the bank.
“How did this canal happen to be here handy?” asked Old Mother Nature.
“Why, I dug it, of course,” replied Paddy looking surprised. “You
see, I'm rather slow and clumsy on land, and don't like to be far
from water. Those trees are pretty well back from the pond, so I
dug this canal, which brings the water almost to them. It makes
it safer for me in case Old Man Coyote or Buster Bear or Yowler the
Bobcat happens to be looking for a Beaver dinner. Also it makes
it very much easier to get my logs and branches to the pond.”
Old Mother Nature nodded. “Just so,” said she. “I want the rest
of you to notice how well this canal has been dug. At the other
end it is carried along the bottom of the pond where the water is
shallow so as to give greater depth. Now you will understand why
I called Paddy an engineer. What do you do with your logs and
branches, Paddy?”
“Put them in my food-pile, out there where the water is deep near
my house,” replied Paddy promptly. “The bark I eat, and the bare
sticks I use to keep my house and dam in repair. In the late fall
I cut enough trees to keep me in food all winter. When my pond is
covered with ice I have nothing to worry about; my food supply
is below the ice. When I am hungry I swim out under the ice, get
a stick, take it back into my house and eat the bark. Then I take
the bare stick outside to use when needed on my dam or house.”
“How did you come to make this fine pond?” asked Old Mother Nature.
“Oh, I just happened to come exploring up the Laughing Brook and
found there was plenty of food here and a good place for a pond,”
replied Paddy. “I thought I would like to live here. Down where
my dam is, the Laughing Brook was shallow--just the place for
a dam.”
“Tell us why you wanted a pond and how you built that dam,”
commanded Old Mother Nature.
“Why, I had to have a pond, if I was to stay here,” replied Paddy,
as if every one must understand that. “The Laughing Brook wasn't
deep or big enough for me to live here safely. If it had been, I
would have made my home in the bank and not bothered with a house
or dam. But it wasn't, so I had to make a pond. It required a
lot of hard work, but it is worth all it cost.
“First, I cut a lot of brush and young trees and placed them in
the Laughing Brook in that shallow place, with the butts pointing
up-stream. I kept them in place by piling mud and stones on them.
Then I kept piling on more sticks and brush and mud. The water
brought down leaves and floating stuff, and this caught in the
dam and helped fill it in. I dug a lot of mud in front of it and
used this to fill in the spaces between the sticks. This made the
water deeper in front of the dam and at the same time kept it from
getting through. As the water backed up, of course it made a pond.
I kept making my dam longer and higher, and the longer and higher
it became the bigger the pond grew. When it was big enough and
deep enough to suit me, I stopped work on the dam and built my
house out there.”
Everybody turned to look at Paddy's house, the roof of which stood
high out of water a little way from the dam. “Tell us how you
built that,” said Old Mother Nature quietly.
“Oh, I just made a big platform of sticks and mud out there where
it was deep enough for me to be sure that the water could not
freeze clear to the bottom, even in the coldest weather,” replied
Paddy, in a matter-of-fact tone. “I built it up until it was
above water. Then I built the walls and roof of sticks and mud,
just as you see them there. Inside I have a fine big room with a
comfortable bed of shredded wood. I have two openings in the
floor with a long passage leading from each down through the
foundations and opening at the bottom of the pond. Of course,
these are filled with water. Some houses have only one passage,
but I like two. These are the only entrances to my house.
“Every fall I repair my walls and roof, adding sticks and mud and
turf, so that now they are very thick. Late in the fall I
sometimes plaster the outside with mud. This freezes hard, and
no enemy who may reach my house on the ice can tear it open. I
guess that's all.”
Peter Rabbit drew a long breath. “What dreadful lot of work,” said
he. “Do you work all the time?”
Paddy chuckled. “No, Peter,” said he. And Old Mother Nature nodded
in approval. “Quite right,” said she. “Quite right. Are there
any more questions?”
“Do you eat nothing but bark?” It was Happy Jack Squirrel who spoke.
“Oh, no,” replied Paddy. “In summer I eat berries, mushrooms, grass
and the leaves and stems of a number of plants. In winter I vary my
fare with lily roots and the roots of alder and willow. But bark is
my principal food.”
Old Mother Nature waited a few minutes, but as there were no more
questions she added a few words. “Now I hope you understand why I
am so proud of Paddy the Beaver, and why I told you that he is a
lumberman, builder and engineer,” said she. “For the next lesson
we will take up the Rat family.”
CHAPTER XIII A Worker and a Robber
“Now we come to the largest family of the Rodent order, the Rat
family, which of course includes the Mice,” said Old Mother Nature,
after calling school to order at the old meeting-place. “And the
largest member of the family reminds me very much of the one we
learned about yesterday.”
“I know!” cried Peter Rabbit. “You mean Jerry Muskrat.”
“Go to the head of the class, Peter,” said Old Mother Nature,
smiling. “Jerry is the very one, the largest member of the Rat
family. Sometimes he is spoken of as a little cousin of Paddy the
Beaver. Probably this is because he looks something like a small
Beaver, builds a house in the water as Paddy does, and lives in
very much the same way. The truth is, he is no more closely related
to Paddy than he is to the rest of you. He is a true Rat. He is
called Muskrat because he carries with him a scent called musk. It
is not an unpleasant scent, like that of Jimmy Skunk, and isn't used
for the same purpose. Jerry uses his to tell his friends where he
has been. He leaves a little of it at the places he visits. Some
folks call him Musquash, but Muskrat is better.
“Jerry is seldom found far from the water and then only when he is
seeking a new home. He is rather slow and awkward on land; but in
the water he is quite at home, as all of you know who have visited
the Smiling Pool. He can dive and swim under water a long distance,
though not as far as Paddy the Beaver.”
“Has he webbed hind feet like Paddy?” piped up Jumper the Hare.
“Yes and no,” replied Old Mother Nature. “They are not fully webbed
as Paddy's are, but there is a little webbing between some of the
toes, enough to be of great help in swimming. His tail is of greater
use in swimming than is Paddy's. It is bare and scaly, but instead
of being flat top and bottom it is flattened on the sides, and he
uses it as a propeller, moving it rapidly from side to side.
“Like Paddy he has a dark brown outer coat, lighter underneath than
on his back and sides, and like Paddy he has a very warm soft under
coat, through which the water cannot get and which keeps him
comfortable, no matter how cold the water is. You have all seen
his house in the Smiling Pool. He builds it in much the same way
that Paddy builds his, but instead of sticks he cuts and uses
rushes. Of course it is not nearly as large as Paddy's house,
because Jerry is himself so much smaller. It is arranged much the
same, with a comfortable bedroom and one or more passages down to
deep water. In winter Jerry spends much of his time in this house,
going out only for food. Then he lives chiefly on lily roots and
roots of other water plants, digging them up and taking them back
to his house to eat. When the ice is clear you can sometimes see
him swimming below.”
“I know,” spoke up Peter Rabbit. “Once I was crossing the Smiling
Pool on the ice and saw him right under me.”
“Jerry doesn't build dams, but he sometimes digs little canals
along the bottom where the water isn't deep enough to suit him,”
continued Old Mother Nature. “Sometimes in the winter Jerry and
Mrs. Jerry share their home with two or three friends. If there
is a good bank Jerry usually has another home in that. He makes
the entrance under water and then tunnels back and up for some
distance, where he builds a snug little bedroom just below the
surface of the ground where it is dry. Usually he has more than
one tunnel leading to this, and sometimes an opening from above.
This is covered with sticks and grass to hide it, and provides
an entrance for fresh air.
“Jerry lives mostly on roots and plants, but is fond of mussels or
fresh-water clams, fish, some insects and, I am sorry to say, young
birds when he can catch them. Jerry could explain where some of
the babies of Mr. And Mrs. Quack the Ducks have disappeared to.
Paddy the Beaver doesn't eat flesh at all.
“Jerry and Mrs. Jerry have several families in a year, and Jerry
is a very good father, doing his share in caring for the babies.
He and Mrs. Jerry are rather social and enjoy visiting neighbors
of their own kind. Their voices are a sort of squeak, and you can
often hear them talking among the rushes in the early evening.
That is the hour they like best, though they are abroad during the
day when undisturbed. Man is their greatest enemy. He hunts and
traps them for their warm coats. But they have to watch out for
Hooty the Owl at night and for Reddy Fox and Old Man Coyote whenever
they are on land. Billy Mink also is an enemy at times, perhaps
the most to be dreaded because he can follow Jerry anywhere.
“Jerry makes little landings of mud and rushes along the edge of
the shore. On these he delights to sit to eat his meals. He likes
apples and vegetables and sometimes will travel quite a distance to
get them. Late in the summer he begins to prepare for winter by
starting work on his house, if he is to have a new one. He is a
good worker. There isn't a lazy bone in him. All things considered,
Jerry is a credit to his family.
“But if Jerry is a credit to his family there is one of its members
who is not and that is--who knows?”
“Robber the Brown Rat,” replied Happy Jack Squirrel promptly. “I
have often seen him around Farmer Brown's barn. Ugh! He is an
ugly-looking fellow.”
“And he is just as ugly as he looks,” replied Old Mother Nature.
“There isn't a good thing I can say for him, not one. He doesn't
belong in this country at all. He was brought here by man, and
now he is found everywhere. He is sometimes called the Norway Rat
and sometimes the Wharf Rat and House Rat. He is hated by all
animals and by man. He is big, being next in size to Jerry
Muskrat, savage in temper, the most destructive of any animal I
know, and dirty in his habits. He is an outcast, but he doesn't
seem to care.
“He lives chiefly around the homes of men, and all his food is
stolen. That is why he is named Robber. He eats anything he can
find and isn't the least bit particular what it is or whether it
be clean or unclean. He gnaws into grain bins and steals the
grain. He gets into hen-houses and sucks the eggs and kills young
chickens. He would like nothing better than to find a nest of
your babies, Peter Rabbit.”
Peter shivered. “I'm glad he sticks to the homes of men,” said he.
“But he doesn't,” declared Old Mother Nature. “Often in summer he
moves out into the fields, digging burrows there and doing great
damage to crops and also killing and eating any of the furred and
feathered folk he can catch. But he is not fond of the light of
day. His deeds are deeds of darkness, and he prefers dark places.
He has very large families, sometimes ten or more babies at a time,
and several families in a year. That is why his tribe has managed
to overrun the Great World and why they cause such great damage.
Worse than the harm they do with their teeth is the terrible harm
they do to man by carrying dreadful diseases and spreading them--
diseases which cause people to die in great numbers.”
“Isn't Robber afraid of any one?” asked Peter.
“He certainly is,” replied Old Mother Nature. “He is in deadly fear
of one whom every one of you fears--Shadow the Weasel. One good
thing I can say for Shadow is that he never misses a chance to kill
a Rat. Wherever a Rat can go he can go, and once he finds a colony
he hunts them until he has killed all or driven them away.
“When food becomes scarce, Robber and his family move on to where
it is more plentiful. Often they make long journeys, a great
number of them together, and do not hesitate to swim a stream that
may be in their path.”
“I've never seen Robber,” said Peter. “What kind of a tail does
he have?”
“I might have known you would ask that,” laughed Old Mother Nature.
“It is long and slim and has no hair on it. His fur is very coarse
and harsh and is brown and gray. He has a close relative called
the Black Rat. But the latter is smaller and has been largely
driven out of the country by his bigger cousin. Now I guess this
is enough about Robber. He is bad, all bad, and hasn't a single
friend in all the Great World.”
“What a dreadful thing--not to have a single friend,” said
Happy Jack.
“It is dreadful, very dreadful,” replied Old Mother Nature. “But
it is wholly his own fault. It shows what happens when one becomes
dishonest and bad at heart. The worst of it is Robber doesn't care.
To-morrow I'll tell you about some of his cousins who are not bad.”
CHAPTER XIV A Trader and a Handsome Fellow
“Way down in the Sunny South,” began Old Mother Nature, “lives a
member of the Rat family who, though not nearly so bad as Robber,
is none too good and so isn't thought well of at all. He is
Little Robber the Cotton Rat, and though small for a Rat, being
only a trifle larger than Striped Chipmunk, looks the little
savage that he is. He has short legs and is rather thick-bodied,
and appears much like an overgrown Meadow Mouse with a long tail.
The latter is not bare like Robber's, but the hair on it is very
short and thin. In color he is yellowish-brown and whitish
underneath. His fur is longer and coarser than that of other
native Rats.
“He lives in old fields, along ditches and hedges, and in similar
places where there is plenty of cover in which he can hide from
his enemies. He burrows in the ground and usually has his nest of
dry grass there, though often in summer it is the surface of the
ground. He does not live in and around the homes of men, like the
Brown Rat, but he causes a great deal of damage by stealing grain
in the shock. He eats all kinds of grain, many seeds, and meat
when he can get it. He is very destructive to eggs and young of
ground-nesting birds. He has a bad temper and will fight savagely.
Mr. and Mrs. Cotton Rat raise several large families in a year.
Foxes, Owls and Hawks are their chief enemies.
“But there are other members of the Rat family far more interesting
and quite worth knowing. One of these is Trader the Wood Rat, in
some parts of the Far West called the Pack Rat. Among the mountains
he is called the Mountain Rat. Wherever found, his habits are much
the same and make him one of the most interesting of all the little
people who wear fur.
“Next to Jerry Muskrat he is the largest native Rat, that is, of
the Rats which belong in this country. He is about two thirds as
big as Robber the Brown Rat, but though he is of the same general
shape, so that you would know at once that he is related to Robber,
he is in all other ways wholly unlike that outcast. His fur is
thick and soft, almost as soft as that of a Squirrel. His fairly
long tail is covered with hair. Indeed, some members of his branch
of the family have tails almost as bushy as a Squirrel's. His coat
is soft gray and a yellowish-brown above, and underneath pure white
or light buff. His feet are white. He has rounded ears and big
black eyes with none of the ugliness in them that you always see in
the eyes of Robber. And he has long whiskers and plenty of them.”
“But why is he called Trader?” asked Rabbit a bit impatiently.
“Patience, Peter, patience. I'm coming to that,” chided Old Mother
Nature. “He is Trader because his greatest delight is in trading.
He is a born trader if ever there was one. He doesn't steal as
other members of his family but trades. He puts something back
in place of whatever he takes. It may be little sticks or chips
or pebbles or anything else that is handy but it is something to
replace what he has taken. You see, he is very honest. If Trader
finds something belonging to some one else that he wants he takes
it, but he tries to pay for it.
“Next to trading he delights in collecting. His home is a regular
museum. He delights in anything bright and shiny. When he can
get into the camps of men he will take anything he can move. But
being honest, he tries to leave something in return. All sorts of
queer things are found in his home--buckles cut from saddles,
spoons, knives, forks, even money he has taken from the pockets of
sleeping campers. Whenever any small object is missed from a camp,
the first place visited in search of it is the home of Trader. In
the mountains he sometimes makes piles of little pebbles just for
the fun of collecting them.
“He is found all over the West, from the mountains to the deserts,
in thick forests and on sandy wastes. He is also found in parts
of the East and in the Sunny South. He is a great climber and is
perfectly at home in trees or among rocks. He eats seeds, grain,
many kinds of nuts, leaves and other parts of plants. In the
colder sections he lays up stores for winter.”
“What kind of a home does he have?” asked Happy Jack.
“His home usually is a very remarkable affair,” replied Old Mother
Nature. “It depends largely on where he is. When he is living in
rocky country, he makes it amongst the rocks. In some places he
burrows in the ground. But more often it is on the surface of the
ground--a huge pile of sticks and thorns in the very middle of
which is his snug, soft nest. The sticks and thorns are to protect
it from enemies. When he lives down where cactus grow, those queer
plants with long sharp spines, he uses these, and there are few
enemies who will try to pull one of these houses apart to get at him.
“When he is alarmed or disturbed, he has a funny habit of drumming on
the ground with his hind feet in much the same way that Peter Rabbit
and Jumper the Hare thump, only he does it rapidly. Sometimes he
builds his house in a tree. When he finds a cabin in the woods he
at once takes possession, carrying in a great mass of sticks and
trash. He is chiefly active at night, and a very busy fellow he
is, trading and collecting. He has none of the mean disposition
of Robber the Brown Rat. Mrs. Trader has two to five babies at
a time and raises several families in a year. As I said before,
Trader is one of the most interesting little people I know of, and
he does very, very funny things.
“Now we come to the handsomest member of the family, Longfoot the
Kangaroo Rat, so called because of his long hind legs and tail and
the way in which he sits up and jumps. Really he is not a member
of the Rat branch of the family, but closely related to the Pocket
Mice. You see, he has pockets in his cheeks.”
“Like mine?” asked Striped Chipmunk quickly.
“No, they are on the outside instead of the inside of his cheeks.
Yours are inside.”
“I think mine must be a lot handier,” asserted Striped Chipmunk,
nodding his head in a very decided way.
“Longfoot seems to think his are quite satisfactory,” replied Old
Mother Nature. “He really is handsome, but he isn't a bit vain
and is very gentle. He never tries to bite when caught and taken
in a man's hand.”
“But you haven't told us how big he is or what he looks like,”
protested impatient Peter.
“When he sits up or jumps he looks like a tiny Kangaroo. But that
doesn't mean anything to you, and you are no wiser than before,
for you never have seen a Kangaroo,” replied Old Mother Nature.
“In the first place he is about the size of Striped Chipmunk.
That is, his body is about the size of Striped Chipmunk's; but
his tail is longer than his head and body together.”
“My, it must be some tail!” exclaimed Peter Rabbit admiringly.
Old Mother Nature smiled. “It is,” said she. “You would like that
tail, Peter. His front legs are short and the feet small, but his
hind legs are long and the feet big. Of course you have seen
Nimbleheels the Jumping Mouse, Peter.”
Peter nodded. “Of course,” he replied. “My how that fellow can jump!”
“Well, Longfoot is built on the same plan as Nimbleheels and for the
same purpose,” continued Old Mother Nature. “He is a jumper.”
“Then I know what that long tail is for,” cried Peter. “It is to
keep him balanced when he is in the air so that he can jump straight.”
“Right again, Peter,” laughed Old Mother Nature. “That is just what
it is for. Without it, he never would know where he was going to
land when he jumped. As I told you, he is a handsome little fellow.
His fur is very soft and silky. Above, it is a pretty yellowish-brown,
but underneath it is pure white. His cheeks are brown, he is white
around the ears, and a white stripe crosses his hips and keeps right
on along the sides of his tail. The upper and under parts of his
tail are almost or quite black, and the tail ends in a tuft of long
hair which is pure white. His feet are also white. His head is
rather large for his size, and long. He has a long nose. Longfoot
has a number of cousins, some of them much smaller than he, but they
all look very much alike.”
“Where do they live?” asked Johnny Chuck, for Johnny had been unable
to stay away from school another day.
“In the dry, sandy parts of the Southwest, places so dry that it
seldom rains, and water is to be found only long distances apart,”
replied Old Mother Nature.
“Then how does Longfoot get water to drink?” demanded Chatterer the
Red Squirrel.
“He gets along without drinking,” replied Old Mother Nature. “Such
moisture as he needs he gets from his food. He eats seeds, leaves
of certain plants and tender young plants just coming up. He
burrows in the ground and throws up large mounds of earth. These
have several entrances. One of these is the main entrance, and
during the day this is often kept closed with earth. Under the
mound he has little tunnels in all directions, a snug little bedroom
and storerooms for food. He is very industrious and dearly loves
to dig.
“Longfoot likes to visit his relatives sometimes, and where there
are several families living near together, little paths lead from
mound to mound. He comes out mostly at night, probably because he
feels it to be safer then. Then, too, in that hot country it is
cooler at night. The dusk of early evening is his favorite
playtime. If Longfoot has a quarrel with one of his relatives they
fight, hopping about each other, watching for a chance to leap and
kick with those long, strong hind feet. Longfoot sometimes drums
with his hind feet after the manner of Trader the Wood Rat.
“Now I think this will do for this morning. If any of you should
meet Whitefoot the Wood Mouse, tell him to come to school to-morrow
morning. And you might tell Danny Meadow if you little folks want
school to continue.”
“We do!” cried Peter Rabbit and Jumper the Hare and Happy Jack
Squirrel and Chatterer the Red Squirrel and Striped Chipmunk and
Johnny Chuck as one.
CHAPTER XV Two Unlike Little Cousins
Whitefoot the Wood Mouse is one of the smallest of the little people
who live in the Green Forest. Being so small he is one of the most
timid. You see, by day and by night sharp eyes are watching for
Whitefoot and he knows it. Never one single instant, while he is
outside where sharp eyes of hungry enemies may see him, does he
forget that they are watching for him. To forget even for one little
minute might mean--well, it might mean the end of little Whitefoot,
but a dinner for some one with a liking for tender Mouse.
So Whitefoot the Wood Mouse rarely ventures more than a few feet
from a hiding place and safety. At the tiniest sound he starts
nervously and often darts back into hiding without waiting to find
out if there really is any danger. If he waited to make sure he
might wait too long, and it is better to be safe than sorry. If you
and I had as many real frights in a year, not to mention false frights,
as Whitefoot has in a day, we would, I suspect, lose our minds.
Certainly we would be the most unhappy people in all the Great World.
But Whitefoot isn't unhappy. Not a bit of it. He is a very happy
little fellow. There is a great deal of wisdom in that pretty
little head of his. There is more real sense in it than in some
very big heads. When some of his neighbors make fun of him for
being so very, very timid he doesn't try to pretend that he isn't
afraid. He doesn't get angry. He simply says:
“Of course I'm timid, very timid indeed. I'm afraid of almost
everything. I would be foolish not to be. It is because I am
afraid that I am alive and happy right now. I hope I shall never
be less timid than I am now, for it would mean that sooner or
later I would fail to run in time and would be gobbled up. It
isn't cowardly to be timid when there is danger all around. Nor
is it bravery to take a foolish and needless risk. So I seldom
go far from home. It isn't safe for me, and I know it.”
This being the way Whitefoot looked at matters, you can guess how
he felt when Chatterer the Red Squirrel caught sight of him and
gave him Old Mother Nature's message.
“Hi there, Mr. Fraidy!” shouted Chatterer, as he caught sight
of Whitefoot darting under a log. “Hi there! I've got a message
for you!”
Slowly, cautiously, Whitefoot poked his head out from beneath the
old log and looked up at Chatterer. “What kind of a message?” he
demanded suspiciously.
“A message you'll do well to heed. It is from Old Mother Nature,”
replied Chatterer.
“A message from Old Mother Nature!” cried Whitefoot, and came out
a bit more from beneath the old log.
“That's what I said, a message from Old Mother Nature, and if you
will take my advice you will heed it,” retorted Chatterer. “She
says you are to come to school with the rest of us at sun-up
to-morrow morning.”
Then Chatterer explained about the school and where it was held
each morning and what a lot he and his friends had already learned
there. Whitefoot listened with something very like dismay in his
heart. That place where school was held was a long way off. That
is, it was a long way for him, though to Peter Rabbit or Jumper the
Hare it wouldn't have seemed long at all. It meant that he would
have to leave all his hiding places and the thought made him shiver.
But Old Mother Nature had sent for him and not once did he even
think of disobeying. “Did you say that school begins at sun-up?”
he asked, and when Chatterer nodded Whitefoot sighed. It was a
sigh of relief. “I'm glad of that,” said he. “I can travel in
the night, which will be much safer. I'll be there. That is, I
will if I am not caught on the way.”
Meanwhile over on the Green Meadows Peter Rabbit was looking for
Danny Meadow Mouse. Danny's home was not far from the dear Old
Briar-patch, and he and Peter were and still are very good friends.
So Peter knew just about where to look for Danny and it didn't
take him long to find him.
“Hello, Peter! You look as if you have something very important
on your mind,” was the greeting of Danny Meadow Mouse as Peter
came hurrying up.
“I have,” said Peter. “It is a message for you. Old Mother Nature
says for you to be on hand at sun-up to-morrow when school opens
over in the Green Forest. Of course you will be there.”
“Of course,” replied Danny in the most matter-of-fact tone. “Of
course. If Old Mother Nature really sent me that message--”
“She really did,” interrupted Peter.
“There isn't anything for me to do but obey,” finished Danny. Then
his face became very sober. “That is a long way for me to go,
Peter,” said he. “I wouldn't take such a long journey for anything
or for anybody else. Old Mother Nature knows, and if she sent for
me she must be sure I can make the trip safely. What time did you
say I must be there?”
“At sun-up,” replied Peter. “Shall I call for you on my way there?”
Danny shook his head. Then he began to laugh. “What are you
laughing at?” demanded Peter.
“At the very idea of me with my short legs trying to keep up with
you,” replied Danny. “I wish you would sit up and take a good
look all around to make sure that Old Man Coyote and Reddy Fox and
Redtail the Hawk and Black Pussy, that pesky Cat from Farmer Brown's,
are nowhere about.”
Peter obligingly sat up and looked this way and looked that way and
looked the other way. No one of whom he or Danny Meadow Mouse need
be afraid was to be seen. He said as much, then asked, “Why did
you want to know, Danny?”
“Because I am going to start at once,” replied Danny.
“Start for where?” asked Peter, looking much puzzled.
“Start for school of course,” replied Danny rather shortly.
“But school doesn't begin until sun-up to-morrow,” protested Peter.
“Which is just the reason I am going to start now,” retorted Danny.
“If I should put off starting until the last minute I might not
get there at all. I would have to hurry, and it is difficult to
hurry and watch for danger at the same time. I've noticed that
people who put things off to the last minute and then have to
hurry are quite apt to rush headlong into trouble. The way is
clear now, so I am going to start. I can take my time and keep
a proper watch for danger. I'll see you over there in the
morning, Peter.”
Danny turned and disappeared in one of his private little paths
though the tall grass. Peter noticed that he was headed towards
the Green Forest.
When Peter and the others arrived for school the next morning they
found Whitefoot the Wood Mouse and Danny Meadow Mouse waiting with
Old Mother Nature. Safe in her presence, they seemed to have lost
much of their usual timidity. Whitefoot was sitting on the end of
a log and Danny was on the ground just beneath him.
“I want all the rest of you to look well at these two little cousins
and notice how unlike two cousins can be,” said Old Mother Nature.
“Whitefoot, who is quite as often called Deer Mouse as Wood Mouse,
is one of the prettiest of the entire Mouse family. I suspect he
is called Deer Mouse because the upper part of his coat is such a
beautiful fawn color. Notice that the upper side of his long slim
tail is of the same color, while the under side is white, as is the
whole under part of Whitefoot. Also those dainty feet are white,
hence his name. See what big, soft black eyes he has, and notice
that those delicate ears are of good size.
“His tail is covered with short fine hairs, instead of being naked
as is the tail of Nibbler the House mouse, of whom I will tell you
later. Whitefoot loves the Green Forest, but out in parts of the
Far West where there is no Green Forest he lives on the brushy
plains. He is a good climber and quite at home in the trees.
There he seems almost like a tiny Squirrel. Tell us, Whitefoot,
where you make your home and what you eat.”
“My home just now,” replied Whitefoot, “is in a certain hollow in a
certain dead limb of a certain tree. I suspect that a member of the
Woodpecker family made that hollow, but no one was living there when
I found it. Mrs. Whitefoot and I have made a soft, warm nest there
and wouldn't trade homes with any one. We have had our home in a
hollow log on the ground, in an old stump, in a hole we dug in the
ground under a rock, and in an old nest of some bird. That was in
a tall bush. We roofed that nest over and make a little round
doorway on the under side. Once we raised a family in a box in a
dark corner of Farmer Brown's sugar camp.
“I eat all sorts of things--seeds, nuts, insects and meat when I
can get it. I store up food for winter, as all wise and thrifty
people do.”
“I suppose that means that you do not sleep as Johnny Chuck does in
winter,” remarked Peter Rabbit.
“I should say not!” exclaimed Whitefoot. “I like winter. It is fun
to run about on the snow. Haven't you ever seen my tracks, Peter?”
“I have, lots of times,” spoke up Jumper the Hare. “Also I've seen you
skipping about after dark. I guess you don't care much for sunlight.”
“I don't,” replied Whitefoot. “I sleep most of the time during the
day, and work and play at night. I feel safer then. But on dull
days I often come out. It is the bright sunlight I don't like. That
is one reason I stick to the Green Forest. I don't see how Cousin
Danny stands it out there on the Green Meadows. Now I guess it is
his turn.”
Every one looked at Danny Meadow Mouse. In appearance he was as
unlike Whitefoot as it was possible to be and still be a Mouse.
There was nothing pretty or graceful about Danny. He wasn't dainty
at all. His body was rather stout, looking stouter than it really
was because his fur was quite long. His head was blunt, and he
seemed to have no neck at all, though of course he did have one.
His eyes were small, like little black beads. His ears were almost
hidden in his hair. His legs were short and his tail was quite
short, as if it had been cut off when half grown. No, those two
cousins didn't look a bit alike. Danny felt most uncomfortable
as the others compared him with pretty Whitefoot. He knew he was
homely, but never before had he felt it quite so keenly. Old
Mother Nature saw and understood.
“It isn't how we look, but what we are and what we do and how we
fit into our particular places in life that count,” said she.
“Now, Danny is a homely little fellow, but I know, and I know that
he knows that he is just fitted for the life he lives, and he lives
it more successfully for being just as he is.
“Danny is a lover of the fields and meadows where there is little
else but grass in which to hide. Everything about him is just
suited for living there. Isn't that so, Danny?”
“Yes'm, I guess so,” replied Danny. “Sometimes my tail does seem
dreadfully short to look well.”
Everybody laughed, even Danny himself. Then he remembered how once
Reddy Fox had so nearly caught him that one of Reddy's black paws
had touched the tip of his tail. Had that tail been any longer
Reddy would have caught him by it. Danny's face cleared and he
hastened to declare, “After all, my tail suits me just as it is.”
“Wisely spoken, Danny,” said Old Mother Nature. “Now it is your
turn to tell how you live and what you eat and anything else of
interest about yourself.”
“I guess there isn't much interesting about me,” began Danny
modestly. “I'm just one of the plain, common little folks.
I guess everybody knows me so well there is nothing for me
to tell.”
“Some of them may know all about you, but I don't,” declared
Jumper the Hare. “I never go out on the Green Meadows where you
live. How do you get about in all that tall grass?”
“Oh, that's easy enough,” replied Danny. “I cut little paths in
all directions.”
“Just the way I do in the dear Old Briar-patch,” interrupted
Peter Rabbit.
“I keep those little paths clear and clean so that there never is
anything in my way to trip me up when I have to run for safety,”
continued Danny. “When the grass gets tall those little paths are
almost like little tunnels. The time I dread most is when Farmer
Brown cuts the grass for hay. I not only have to watch out for that
dreadful mowing machine, but when the hay has been taken away the
grass is so short that it is hard work for me to keep out of sight.
“I sometimes dig a short burrow and at the end of it make a nice nest
of dry grass. Sometimes in summer Mrs. Danny and I make our nest on
the surface of the ground in a hollow or in a clump of tall grass,
especially if the ground is low and wet. We have several good-sized
families in a year. All Meadow Mice believe in large families, and
that is probably why there are more Meadow Mice than any other Mice
in the country. I forgot to say that I am also called Field Mouse.”
“And it is because there are so many of your family and they require
so much to eat that you do a great deal of damage to grass and other
crops,” spoke up Old Mother Nature. “You see,” she explained to the
others, “Danny eats grass, clover, bulbs, roots, seeds and garden
vegetables. He also eats some insects. He sometimes puts away a
few seeds for the winter, but depends chiefly on finding enough to
eat, for he is active all winter. He tunnels about under the snow
in search of food. When other food is hard to find he eats bark,
and then he sometimes does great damage in young orchards. He gnaws
the bark from young fruit trees all the way around as high as he
can reach, and of course this kills the trees. He is worse than
Peter Rabbit.
“Danny didn't mention that he is a good swimmer and not at all
afraid of the water. No one has more enemies than he, and the fact
that he is alive and here at school this morning is due to his
everlasting watchfulness. This will do for to-day. To-morrow we
will take up others of the Mouse family.”
CHAPTER XVI Danny's Northern Cousins and Nimbleheels
Whitefoot the Wood Mouse and Danny Meadow Mouse had become so
interested that they decided they couldn't afford to miss the next
lesson. Neither did either of them feel like making the long
journey to his home and back again. So Whitefoot found a hole in
a stump near by and decided to camp out there for a few days. Danny
decided to do the same thing in a comfortable place under a pile of
brush not far away. So the next morning both were on hand when
school opened.
“I told you yesterday that I would tell you about some of Danny's
cousins,” began Old Mother Nature just as Chatterer the Red Squirrel,
who was late, came hurrying up quite out of breath. “Way up in the
Far North are two of Danny's cousins more closely related to him
than to any other members of the Mouse family. Yet, strange to say,
they are not called Mice at all, but Lemmings. However, they belong
to the Mouse family.
“Bandy the Banded Lemming is the most interesting, because he is
the one member of the entire family who changes the color of his
coat. In summer he wears beautiful shades of reddish brown and
gray, but in winter his coat is wholly white. He is also called
the Hudson Bay Lemming.
“Danny Meadow Mouse thinks his tail is short, but he wouldn't if
he should see Bandy's tail. That is so short it hardly shows beyond
his long fur. He is about Danny's size, but a little stouter and
stockier, and his long fur makes him appear even thicker-bodied than
he really is. He has very short legs, and his ears are so small
that they are quite hidden in the fur around them, so that he appears
to have no ears at all.
“In that same far northern country is a close relative called the
Brown Lemming. He is very much like Bandy save that he is all brown
and does not change his coat in winter. Both have the same general
habits, and these are much like the habits of Danny Meadow Mouse.
They make short burrows in the ground leading to snug, warm nests of
grass and moss. In winter they make little tunnels in every direction
under the snow, with now and then an opening to the surface.
“There are many more Brown Lemmings than Banded Lemmings, and their
little paths run everywhere through the grass and moss. In that
country there is a great deal of moss. It covers the ground just
as grass does here. But the most interesting thing about these
Lemmings is the way they migrate. To migrate is to move from one
part of the country to another. You know most of the birds migrate
to the Sunny South every autumn and back every spring.
“Once in a while it happens that food becomes very scarce where
the Lemmings are. Then very many of them get together, just as
migrating birds form great flocks, and start on a long journey in
search of a place where there is plenty of food. They form a great
army and push ahead, regardless of everything. They swim wide
rivers and even lakes which may lie in their way. Of course, they
eat everything eatable in their path.”
“My!” exclaimed Danny Meadow Mouse, “I'm glad I don't live in a
country where I might have to make such long journeys. I don't
envy those cousins up there in the Far North a bit. I'm perfectly
satisfied to live right on the Green Meadows.”
“Which shows your good common sense,” said Old Mother Nature. “By
the way, Danny, I suppose you are acquainted with Nimbleheels the
Jumping Mouse, who also is rather fond of the Green Meadows. I
ought to have sent word to him to be here this morning.”
Hardly were the words out of Old Mother Nature's mouth when something
landed in the leaves almost at her feet and right in the middle of
school. Instantly Danny Meadow Mouse scurried under a pile of dead
leaves. Whitefoot the Wood Mouse darted into a knothole in the log
on which he had been sitting. Jumper the Hare dodged behind a
little hemlock tree. Peter Rabbit bolted for a hollow log. Striped
Chipmunk vanished in a hole under an old stump. Johnny Chuck backed
up against the trunk of a tree and made ready to fight. Only Happy
Jack the Gray Squirrel and Chatterer the Red Squirrel and Prickly
Porky the Porcupine, who were sitting in trees, kept their places.
You see they felt quite safe.
As soon as all those who had run had reached places of safety,
they peeped out to see what had frightened them so. Just imagine
how very, very foolish they felt when they saw Old Mother Nature
smiling down at a little fellow just about the size of little
Whitefoot, but with a much longer tail. It was Nimbleheels the
Jumping Mouse.
“Well, well, well,” exclaimed Old Mother Nature. “I was just
speaking of you and wishing I had you here. How did you happen
to come? And what do you mean by scaring my pupils half out of
their wits?” Her eyes twinkled. Nimbleheels saw this and knew
that she was only pretending to be severe.
Before he could reply Johnny Chuck began to chuckle. The chuckle
became a laugh, and presently Johnny was laughing so hard he had
to hold his sides. Now, as you know, laughter is catching. In a
minute or so everybody was laughing, and no one but Johnny Chuck
knew what the joke was. At last Peter Rabbit stopped laughing
long enough to ask Johnny what he was laughing at.
“At the idea of that little pinch of nothing giving us all such a
fright,” replied Johnny Chuck. Then all laughed some more.
When they were through laughing Nimbleheels answered Old Mother
Nature's questions. He explained that he had heard about that
school, as by this time almost every one in the Green Forest and
on the Green Meadows had. By chance he learned that Danny Meadow
Mouse was attending. He thought that if it was a good thing for
Danny it would be a good thing for him, so he had come.
“Just as I was almost here I heard a twig snap behind me, or thought
I did, and I jumped so as to get here and be safe. I didn't
suppose anyone would be frightened by little me,” he explained.
“It was some jump!” exclaimed Jumper the Hare admiringly. “He
went right over my head, and I was sitting up at that!”
“It isn't much of a jump to go over your head,” replied Nimbleheels.
“You ought to see me when I really try to jump. I wasn't half
trying when I landed here. I'm sorry I frightened all of you so.
It gives me a queer feeling just to think that I should be able
to frighten anybody. If you please, Mother Nature, am I in time
for to-day's lesson?”
“Not for all of it, but you are just in time for the part I wanted
you here for,” replied Old Mother Nature. “Hop up on that log
side of your Cousin Whitefoot, where all can see you.”
Nimbleheels hopped up beside Whitefoot the Wood Mouse, and as the
two little cousins sat side by side they were not unlike in general
appearance, though of the two Whitefoot was the prettier. The coat
of Nimbleheels was a dull yellowish, darker on the back than on the
sides. Like Whitefoot he was white underneath. His ears were much
smaller than those of Whitefoot. But the greatest differences
between the two were in their hind legs and tails.
The hind legs and feet of Nimbleheels were long, on the same plan
as those of Peter Rabbit. From just a glance at them any one
would know that he was a born jumper and a good one. Whitefoot
possessed a long tail, but the tail of Nimbleheels was much
longer, slim and tapering.
“There,” said Old Mother Nature, “is the greatest jumper for his
size among all the animals in this great country. When I say this,
I mean the greatest ground jumper. Timmy the Flying Squirrel
jumps farther, but Timmy has to climb to a high place and then
coasts down on the air. I told you what wonderful jumps Jack
Rabbit can make, but if he could jump as high and far for his size
as Nimbleheels can jump for his size, the longest jump Jack has
ever made would seem nothing more than a hop. By the way, both
Nimbleheels and Whitefoot have small pockets in their cheeks.
Tell us where you live, Nimbleheels.”
“I live among the weeds along the edge of the Green Meadows,”
replied Nimbleheels, “though sometimes I go way out on the Green
Meadows. But I like best to be among the weeds because they are
tall and keep me well hidden, and also because they furnish me
plenty to eat. You see, I live largely on seeds, though I am also
fond of berries and small nuts, especially beechnuts. Some of my
family prefer the Green Forest, especially if there is a Laughing
Brook or pond in it. Personally I prefer, as I said before, the
edge of the Green Meadows.”
“Do you make your home under the ground?” asked Striped Chipmunk.
“For winter, yes,” replied Nimbleheels. “In summer I sometimes
put my nest just a few inches under ground, but often I hide it
under a piece of bark or in a thick clump of grass, just as Danny
Meadow Mouse often does his. In the fall I dig a deep burrow,
deep enough to be beyond the reach of Jack Frost, and in a nice
little bedroom down there I sleep the winter away. I have little
storerooms down there too, in which I put seeds, berries and nuts.
Then when I do wake up I have plenty to eat.”
“I might add,” said Old Mother Nature, “that when he goes to sleep
for the winter he curls up in a little ball with his long tail
wrapped around him, and in his bed of soft grass he sleeps very
sound indeed. Like Johnny Chuck he gets very fat before going to
sleep. Now, Nimbleheels, show us how you can jump.”
Nimbleheels hopped down from the log on which he had been sitting
and at once shot into the air in such a high, long, beautiful jump
that everybody exclaimed. This way and that way he went in great
leaps. It was truly wonderful.
“That long tail is what balances him,” explained Old Mother Nature.
“If he should lose it he would simply turn over and over and never
know where or how he was going to land. His jumping is done only
in times of danger. When he is not alarmed he runs about on the
ground like the rest of the Mouse family. This is all for to-day.
To-morrow I will tell you still more about the Mouse family.”
CHAPTER XVII Three Little Redcoats and Some Others
With Whitefoot the Wood Mouse, Danny Meadow Mouse and Nimbleheels
the Jumping Mouse attending school, the Mouse family was well
represented, but when school opened the morning after Nimbleheels
had made his sudden and startling appearance, there was still
another present. It was Piney the Pine Mouse. Whitefoot, who
knew him, had hunted him up and brought him along.
“I thought you wouldn't mind if Piney came,” explained Whitefoot.
“I'm glad he has come,” replied Old Mother Nature. “It is much
better to see a thing than merely to be told about it, and now you
have a chance to see for yourselves the differences between two
cousins very closely related, Danny Meadow Mouse and Piney the
Pine Mouse. What difference do you see, Happy Jack Squirrel?”
“Piney is a little smaller than Danny, though he is much the same
shape,” was the prompt reply.
“True,” said Old Mother Nature. “Now, Striped Chipmunk, what
difference do you see?”
“The fur of Piney's coat is shorter, finer and has more of a shine.
Then, too, it is more of a reddish-brown than Danny's,” replied
Striped Chipmunk.
“And what do you say, Peter Rabbit?” asked Old Mother Nature.
“Piney has a shorter tail,” declared Peter, and everybody laughed.
“Trust you to look at his tail first,” said Old Mother Nature.
“These are the chief differences as far as looks are concerned.
Their habits differ in about the same degree. As you all know,
Danny cuts little paths through the grass. Piney doesn't do this,
but makes little tunnels just under the surface of the ground very
much as Miner the Mole does. He isn't fond of the open Green
Meadows or of damp places as Danny is, but likes best the edge of
the Green Forest and brushy places. He is very much at home in a
poorly kept orchard where the weeds are allowed to grow and in young
orchards he does a great deal of damage by cutting off the roots of
young trees and stripping off the bark as high up as he can reach.
Tell us, Piney, how and where you make your home.”
Piney hesitated a little, for he was bashful. “I make my home under
ground,” he ventured finally. “I dig a nice little bedroom with
several entrances from my tunnels, and in it I make a fine nest of
soft grass. Close by I dig one or more rooms in which to store my
food, and these usually are bigger than my bedroom. When I get one
filled with food I close it up by filling the entrance with earth.”
“What do you put in your storerooms?” asked Peter Rabbit.
“Short pieces of grass and pieces of roots of different kinds,”
replied Piney. “I am very fond of tender roots and the bark of
trees and bushes.
“And he dearly loves to get in a garden where he can tunnel along
a row of potatoes or other root crops,” added Old Mother Nature.
“Because of these habits he does a great deal of damage and is much
disliked by man. Striped Chipmunk mentioned his reddish-brown coat.
There is another cousin with a coat so red that he is called the
Red-backed Mouse. He is about the size of Danny Meadow Mouse but
has larger ears and a longer tail.
“This little fellow is a lover of the Green Forest, and he is quite
as active by day as by night. He is pretty, especially when he sits
up to eat, holding his food in his paws as does Happy Jack Squirrel.
He makes his home in a burrow, the entrance to which is under an old
stump, a rock or the root of a tree. His nest is of soft grass or
moss. Sometimes he makes it in a hollow log or stump instead of
digging a bedroom under ground. He is thrifty and lays up a supply
of food in underground rooms, hollow logs and similar places. He
eats seeds, small fruits, roots and various plants. Because of
his preference for the Green Forest and the fact that he lives as
a rule far from the homes of men, he does little real damage.
“There is still another little Redcoat in the family, and he is
especially interesting because while he is related to Danny Meadow
Mouse he lives almost wholly in trees. He is called the Rufous
Tree Mouse. Rufous means reddish-brown, and he gets that name
because of the color of his coat. He lives in the great forests
of the Far West, where the trees are so big and tall that the
biggest tree you have ever seen would look small beside them. And
it is in those great trees that the Rufous Tree Mouse lives.
“Just why he took to living in trees no one knows, for he belongs
to that branch of the family known as Ground Mice. But live in
them he does, and he is quite as much at home in them as
any Squirrel.”
Chatterer the Red Squirrel was interested right away. “Does he
build a nest in a tree like a Squirrel?” he asked.
“He certainly does,” replied Old Mother Nature, “and often it is a
most remarkable nest. In some sections he places it only in big
trees, sometimes a hundred feet from the ground. In other sections
it is placed in small trees and only a few feet above the ground.
The high nests often are old deserted nests of Squirrels enlarged
and built over. Some of them are very large indeed and have been
used year after year. Each year they have been added to.
“One of these big nests will have several bedrooms and little
passages running all through it. It appears that Mrs. Rufous
usually has one of these big nests to herself, Rufous having
a small nest of his own out on one of the branches. The big
nest is close up against the trunk of the tree where several
branches meet.”
“Does Rufous travel from one tree to another, or does he live in
just one tree?” asked Happy Jack Squirrel.
“Wherever branches of one tree touch those of another, and you
know in a thick forest this is frequently the case, he travels
about freely if he wants to. But those trees are so big that I
suspect he spends most of his time in the one in which his home
is,” replied Old Mother Nature. “However, if an enemy appears
in his home tree, he makes his escape by jumping from one tree
to another, just as you would do.”
“What I want to know is where he gets his food if he spends all
his time up in the trees,” spoke up Danny Meadow Mouse.
Old Mother Nature smiled. “Where should he get it but up where
he lives?” she asked. “Rufous never has to worry about food. It
is all around him. You see, so far as known, he lives wholly on
the thick parts of the needles, which you know are the leaves, of
fir and spruce trees, and on the bark of tender twigs. So you
see he is more of a tree dweller than any of the Squirrel family.
While Rufous has the general shape of Danny and his relatives, he
has quite a long tail. Now I guess this will do for the nearest
relatives of Danny Meadow Mouse.”
“He certainly has a lot of them,” remarked Whitefoot the Wood Mouse.
Then he added a little wistfully, “Of course, in a way they are all
cousins of mine, but I wish I had some a little more closely related.”
“You have,” replied Old Mother Nature, and Whitefoot pricked up
his big ears. “One of them Bigear the Rock Mouse, who lives out
in the mountains of the Far West. He is as fond of the rocks as
Rufous is of the trees. Sometimes he lives in brush heaps and in
brushy country, but he prefers rocks, and that is why he is known
as the Rock Mouse.
“He is a pretty little fellow, if anything a trifle bigger than you,
Whitefoot, and he is dressed much like you with a yellowish-brown
coat and white waistcoat. He has just such a long tail covered
with hair its whole length. But you should see his ears. He has
the largest ears of any member of the whole family. That is why
he is called Bigear. He likes best to be out at night, but often
comes out on dull days. He eats seeds and small nuts and is
especially fond of juniper seeds. He always lays up a supply of
food for winter. Often he is found very high up on the mountains.
“Another of your cousins, Whitefoot, lives along the seashore of
the East down in the Sunny South. He is called the Beach Mouse.
In general appearance he is much like you, having the same shape,
long tail and big ears, but he is a little smaller and his coat
varies. When he lives back from the shore, in fields where the
soil is dark, his upper coat is dark grayish-brown, but when he
lives on the white sands of the seashore it is very light. His
home is in short burrows in the ground.
“Now don't you little people think you have learned enough about
the Mouse family?”
“You haven't told us about Nibbler the House Mouse yet. And you
said you would,” protested Peter Rabbit.
“And when we were learning about Longfoot the Kangaroo Rat you said
he was most closely related to the Pocket Mice. What about them?”
said Johnny Chuck.
Old Mother Nature laughed. “I see,” said she, “that you want to
know all there is to know. Be on hand to-morrow morning. I guess
we can finish up with the Mouse family then and with them the order
of Rodents to which all of you belong.”
CHAPTER XVIII Mice with Pockets, and Others
“Pockets are very handy things for little people who are thrifty
and who live largely on small seeds. Without pockets in which to
carry the seeds, I am afraid some of them would never be able to
store up enough food for winter,” began Old Mother Nature, as soon
as everybody was on hand the next morning.
“I wouldn't be without my pockets for any thing,” spoke up
Striped Chipmunk.
Old Mother Nature smiled. “You certainly do make good use of yours,”
said she. “But there are others who have even greater need of
pockets, and among them are the Pocket Mice. Of course, it is
because of their pockets that they are called Pocket Mice. All of
these pretty little fellows live in the dry parts of the Far West
and Southwest in the same region where Longfoot the Kangaroo Rat
lives. They are close neighbors and relatives of his.
“Midget the Silky Pocket Mouse is one of the smallest animals in
all the Great World, so small that Whitefoot the Wood Mouse is a
giant compared with him. He weighs less than an ounce and is a
dear little fellow. His back and sides are yellow, and beneath
he is white. He has quite long hind legs and a long tail, and
these show at once that he is a jumper. In each cheek is a pocket
opening from the outside, and these pockets are lined with hair.
He is called Silky Pocket Mouse because of the fineness and
softness of his coat. He has some larger cousins, one of them
being a little bigger than Nibbler the House Mouse. Neighbors
and close relatives are the Spiny Pocket Mice.”
“Do they have spines like Prickly Porky?” demanded Peter Rabbit.
Old Mother Nature laughed. “I don't wonder you ask,” said she.
“I think it is a foolish name myself, for they haven't any spines at
all. Their fur isn't as fine as that of Midget, and it has all
through it long coarse hairs almost like bristles, and from these
they get their name. The smallest of the Spiny Pocket Mice is
about the size of Nibbler the House Mouse and the largest is twice
as big. They are more slender than their Silky cousins, and their
tails are longer in proportion to their size and have little tufts
of hair at the ends. Of course, they have pockets in their cheeks.
“In habits all the Pocket Mice are much alike. They make burrows
in the ground, often throwing up a little mound with several
entrances which lead to a central passageway connecting with the
bedroom and storerooms. By day the entrances are closed with
earth from inside, for the Mice are active only at night.
Sometimes the burrows are hidden under bushes, and sometimes
they are right out in the open. Living as they do in a hot, dry
country, the Pocket Mice have learned to get along without
drinking water. Their food consists mainly of a variety of
small seeds.
“Another Mouse of the West looks almost enough like Whitefoot to
be a member of his branch of the family. He has a beautiful
yellowish-brown coat and white waistcoat, and his feet are white.
But his tail is short in comparison with Whitefoot's and instead
of being slim is quite thick. His fur is like velvet. He is
called the Grasshopper Mouse.”
“Is that because he eats Grasshoppers?” asked Peter Rabbit at once.
“You've guessed it,” laughed Old Mother Nature. “He is very, very
fond of Grasshoppers and Crickets. He eats many kinds of insects,
Moths, Flies, Cutworms, Beetles, Lizards, Frogs and Scorpions.
Because of his fondness for the latter he is called the Scorpion
Mouse in some sections. He is fond of meat when he can get it.
He also eats seeds of many kinds. He is found all over the West
from well up in the North to the hot dry regions of the Southwest.
When he cannot find a convenient deserted burrow of some other
animal, he digs a home for himself and there raises several families
each year. In the early evening he often utters a fine, shrill,
whistling call note.
“Another little member of the Mouse family found clear across the
country is the Harvest Mouse. He is never bigger than Nibbler the
House Mouse and often is much smaller. In fact, he is one of the
smallest of the entire family. In appearance he is much like
Nibbler, but his coat is browner and there are fine hairs on his
tail. He loves grassy, weedy or brushy places.
“As a rule he does little harm to man, for his food is chiefly
seeds of weeds, small wild fruits and parts of wild plants of no
value to man. Once in a while his family becomes so large that
they do some damage in grain fields. But this does not happen
often. The most interesting thing about this little Mouse is the
way he builds his home. Sometimes he uses a hole in a tree or
post and sometimes a deserted birds' nest, but more frequently
he builds a nest for himself--a little round ball of grass and
other vegetable matter. This is placed in thick grass or weeds
close to the ground or in bushes or low trees several feet from
the ground.
“They are well-built little houses and have one or more little
doorways on the under side when they are in bushes or trees. Inside
is a warm, soft bed made of milkweed or cattail down, the very
nicest kind of a bed for the babies. No one has a neater home than
the Harvest Mouse. He is quite as much at home in bushes and low
trees as Happy Jack Squirrel is in bigger trees. His long tail
comes in very handy then, for he often wraps it around a twig to
make his footing more secure.
“Now this is all about the native Mice and--what is it, Peter?”
“You've forgotten Nibbler the House Mouse,” replied Peter.
“How impatient some little folks are and how fearful that their
curiosity will not be satisfied,” remarked Old Mother Nature. “As
I was saying, this is all about our native Mice; that is, the Mice
who belong to this country. And now we come to Nibbler the House
Mouse, who, like Robber the Brown Rat, has no business here at all,
but who has followed man all over the world and like Robber has
become a pest to man.”
Peter Rabbit looked rather sheepish when he discovered that Old
Mother Nature hadn't for gotten, and resolved that in the future
he would hold his tongue.
“Have any of you seen Nibbler?” asked Old Mother Nature.
“I have,” replied Danny Meadow Mouse. “Once I was carried to
Farmer Brown's barn in a shock of corn and I found Nibbler living
in the barn.”
“It is a wonder he wasn't living in Farmer Brown's house,” said
Old Mother Nature. “Probably other members of his family were.
He is perfectly at home in any building put up by man, just as
is Robber the Rat. Because of his small size he can go where
Robber cannot. He delights to scamper about between the walls.
Being a true Rodent he is forever gnawing holes in the corners
of rooms and opening on to pantry shelves so that he may steal
food. He eats all sorts of food, but spoils more for man, by
running about over it, than he eats. In barns and henhouses he
gets into the grain bins and steals a great deal of grain.
“It is largely because of Robber the Rat and Nibbler that men keep
the Cats you all hate so. A Cat is Nibbler's worst enemy. Nibbler
is slender and graceful, with a long, hairless tail and ears of
good size. He is very timid, ready to dart into his hole at the
least sound. He raises from four to nine babies at a time and
several sets of them in a year.
“If Mr. and Mrs. Nibbler are living in a house, their nest is made
of scraps of paper, cloth, wool and other soft things stolen from
the people who live in the house. In getting this material they
often do great damage. If they are living in a barn, they make
their nest of hay and any soft material they can find.
“While Nibbler prefers to live in or close to the homes of men,
he sometimes is driven out and then takes to the fields, especially
in summer. There he lives in all sorts of hiding places, and isn't
at all particular what the place is, if it promises safety and food
can be obtained close by. I'm sorry Nibbler ever came to this
country. Man brought him here and now he is here to stay and quite
as much at home as if he belonged here the way the rest of you do.
“This finishes the lessons on the order of Rodents, the animals
related by reason of having teeth for the purpose of gnawing. I
suspect these are the only ones in whom you take any interest, and
so you will not care to come to school any more. Am I right?”
“No, marm,” answered Happy Jack the Gray Squirrel, who, you remember,
had laughed at Peter Rabbit for wanting to go to school. “No, marm.
There are ever so many other people of the Green Forest and the
Green Meadows we want to know more about than we now know. Isn't
that so?” Happy Jack turned to the others and every one nodded,
even Prickly Porky.
“There is one little fellow living right near here who looks to me
as if he must be a member of the Mouse family, but he isn't like any
of the Mice you have told us about,” continued Happy Jack. “He is
so small he can hide under a leaf. I'm sure he must be a Mouse.”
“You mean Teeny Weeny the Shrew,” replied Old Mother Nature, smiling
at Happy Jack. “He isn't a Mouse. He isn't even a Rodent. I'll
try to have him here to-morrow morning and we will see what we can
find out about him and his relatives.”
CHAPTER XIX Teeny Weeny and His Cousin
“Of course Old Mother Nature knows, but just the same it is hard
for me not to believe that Teeny Weeny is a member of the Mouse
family,” said Happy Jack Squirrel to Peter Rabbit, as they
scampered along to school. “I never have had a real good look
at him, but I've had glimpses of him lots of times and always
supposed him a little Mouse with a short tail. It is hard to
believe that he isn't.”
“I hope Old Mother Nature will put him where we can get a good
look at him,” replied Peter. “Perhaps when you really see him he
won't look so much like a Mouse.”
When all had arrived Old Mother Nature began the morning lesson at
once. “You have learned about all the families in the order of
Rodents,” said she, “so now we will take up another and much smaller
order called Insectivora. I wonder if any of you can guess what
that means.”
“It sounds,” said Peter Rabbit, “as if it must have something to do with
insects.”
“That is a very good guess, Peter,” replied Old Mother Nature,
smiling at him. “It does have to do with insects. The members
of this order live very largely on insects and worms, and the name
Insectivora means insect-eating. There are two families in this
order, the Shrew family and the Mole family.”
“Then Teeny Weeny and Miner the Mole must be related,” spoke
Peter quickly.
“Right again, Peter,” was the prompt reply. “The Shrews and the
Moles are related in the same way that you and Happy Jack Squirrel
are related.”
“And isn't Teeny Weeny the Shrew related to the Mice at all?”
asked Happy Jack.
“Not at all,” said Old Mother Nature. “Many people think he is
and often he is called Shrew Mouse. But this is a great mistake.
It is the result of ignorance. It seems strange to me that people
so often know so little about their near neighbors.” She looked
at Happy Jack Squirrel as she said this, and Happy Jack looked
sheepish. He felt just as he looked. All this time the eyes of
every one had been searching this way, that way, every way, for
Teeny Weeny, for Old Mother Nature had promised to try to have
him there that morning. But Teeny Weeny was not to be seen. Now
and then a leaf on the ground close by Old Mother Nature's feet
moved, but the Merry Little Breezes were always stirring up
fallen leaves, and no one paid any attention to these.
Old Mother Nature understood the disappointment in the faces before
her and her eyes began to twinkle. “Yesterday I told you that I
would try to have Teeny Weeny here,” said she. A leaf moved.
Stooping quickly she picked it up. “And here he is,” she finished.
Sure enough where a second before the dead brown leaf had been was
a tiny little fellow, so tiny that that leaf had covered him
completely, and it wasn't a very big leaf. It was Teeny Weeny the
Shrew, also called the Common Shrew, the Long-tailed Shrew and the
Shrew Mouse, one of the smallest animals in all the Great World.
He started to dart under another leaf, but Old Mother Nature stopped
him. “Sit still,” she commanded sharply. “You have nothing to fear.
I want everybody to have a good look at you, for it is high time
these neighbors of yours should know you. I know just how nervous
and uncomfortable you are and I'll keep you only a few minutes.
Now everybody take a good look at Teeny Weeny.”
This command was quite needless, for all were staring with all
their might. What they saw was a mite of a fellow less than four
inches long from the tip of his nose to the tip of his tail, and
of this total length the tail was almost half. He was slender,
had short legs and mouselike feet. His coat was brownish above
and grayish beneath, and the fur was very fine and soft.
But the oddest thing about Teeny Weeny was his long, pointed head
ending in a long nose. No Mouse has a head like it. The edges of
the ears could be seen above the fur, but the eyes were so tiny
that Pete
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