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Bret Harte - "New Burlesques"

Miriam Michelson - "In The Bishop's Carriage"

Rafael Sabatini - "Bardelys the Magnificent"

Anna Howard Shaw - "The Story of a Pioneer"

The Burgess Animal Book for Children

T >> Thornton W. Burgess >> The Burgess Animal Book for Children




"Your guess is wrong, Peter," spoke up Reddy Fox, who had been
listening with a grin on his crafty face. "I am rather fond of
certain kinds of fruits. You didn't know that, did you, Peter?"

"No, I didn't," replied Peter. "I'm glad to know it. I think it
is dreadful to live entirely by killing others."

"You might add," remarked Reddy, "that I like a meal of fish
occasionally, and eggs are always welcome. I am not particular
what I eat so long as I can get my stomach full."

"Reddy Fox hunts with ears, eyes and nose," continued Peter. "Many
a time I've watched him listening for the squeak of Danny Meadow
Mouse or watching for the grass to move and show where Danny was
hiding; and many a time he has found my scent with his wonderful
nose and followed me just as Bowser the Hound follows him. I guess
there isn't much going on that Reddy's eyes, ears and nose don't
tell him. But it is Reddy's quick wits that the rest of us fear
most. We never know what new trick he will try. Lots of enemies
are easy to fool, but Reddy isn't one of them. Sometimes I think
he knows more about me than I know about myself. I guess it is
just pure luck that he hasn't caught me with some of those smart
tricks of his.

"Reddy hunts both day and night, but I think he prefers night. I
guess it all depends on how hungry he is. More than once I've
seen him bringing home a Chicken, but I am told that he is smart
enough not to steal Chickens near his home, but always to go some
distance to get them. Also I've been told that he is too clever
to go to the same Chicken yard two nights in succession. So far
as I know, he isn't afraid of any one except a hunter with a
terrible gun. He doesn't seem to mind being chased by Bowser the
Hound at all."

"I don't," spoke up Reddy. "I rather enjoy it. It gives me good
exercise. Any time I can't fool Bowser by breaking my trail so he
can't find it again, I deserve to be caught. I am not even so
terribly afraid of a hunter with a gun. You see, usually I can
guess what a hunter will do better than he can what I will do."

Old Mother Nature nodded. "That sounds like boasting," said she,
"but it isn't. Reddy Fox is one of the few animals who has
succeeded in holding his own against man, and he has done it simply
by using his wits. There is no other animal as large as Reddy Fox
who has succeeded as he has in living close to the homes of men.
It is simply because he has made the most of the senses I have given
him. He has learned to use his eyes, ears and nose at all times and
to understand and make the most of the information they bring him.
Reddy has always been hunted by man, and it is this very thing which
has so sharpened his wits. It is seldom that he is guilty of making
the same mistake twice. All of you little people fear Reddy, and I
suspect some of you hate him. But always remember that he never
kills for the love of killing, and only when he must have food.
There would be something sadly missing in the Green Forest and on
the Green Meadows were there no Reddy Fox. Reddy, where do you and
Mrs. Reddy make your home? And how do you raise your babies?"

"This year our home is up in the Old Pasture," replied Reddy. "We
have the nicest kind of a house dug in the ground underneath a big
rock. It has only one entrance, but this is because there is no
need of any other. No one could possibly dig us out there. Last
year our home was on the Green Meadows and there were three doorways
to that. The year before we dug our house in a gravelly bank just
within the edge of the Green Forest. The babies are born in a
comfortable bedroom deep underground. Sometimes we have a storeroom
in addition to the bedroom; there Mrs. Reddy and I can keep food
when there is more than can be eaten at one meal. When the babies
are first born in the spring and Mrs. Reddy cannot leave them, I
take food to her. When the youngsters are big enough to use their
sharp little teeth, we take turns hunting food for them. Usually
we hunt separately, but sometimes we hunt together. You know often
two can do what one cannot. If Bowser the Hound happens to find
the trail of Mrs. Reddy when there are babies at home, she leads him
far away from our home. Then I join her, and take her place so that
she can slip away and go back to the babies. Bowser never knows
the difference.

"Our children are well trained if I do say it. We teach them how to
hunt, how to fool their enemies, and all the tricks we have learned.
No one has a better training than a young Fox."

"Here is a conundrum for you little folks," said Old Mother Nature.
"When is a Red Fox not a Red Fox?" Everybody blinked. Most of
them looked as if they thought Old Mother Nature must be joking.
But suddenly Chatterer the Red Squirrel, whose wits are naturally
quick, remembered how Old Mother Nature had told them that there
were black Gray Squirrels. "When he is some other color,"
cried Chatterer.

"That's the answer," said Old Mother Nature. "Once in a while a
pair of Red Foxes will have a baby who hasn't a red hair on him.
He will be all black, with perhaps just the tip of his tail white.
Or his fur will be all black just tipped with white. Then he is
called a Black Fox or Silver Fox. He is still a Red Fox, yet
there is nothing red about him. Sometimes the fur is only partly
marked with black and then he is called a Cross Fox. A great many
people have supposed that the Black or Silver Fox and the Cross Fox
were distinct kinds. They are not. They are simply Red Foxes with
different coats. The fur of the Silver Fox is considered by man to
be one of the choicest of all furs and tremendous prices are paid
for it. This means, of course, that a young Fox whose coat is
black will need to be very smart indeed if he would live to old
age, for once he has been seen by man he will be hunted unceasingly."

Reddy Fox had been listening intently and now Mother Nature
noticed a worried look on his face. "What is it, Reddy?" said
she. "You look anxious."

"I am anxious," said he. "What you have just said has worried me.
You see, one of my cubs at home is all black. Now that I have
learned that his fur is so valuable, Mrs. Reddy and I will have
to take special pains to teach him all we know."

"I want you all to know that Reddy Fox and Mrs. Reddy mate for
life," said Old Mother Nature. "Reddy is the best of fathers and
the best of mates."

"There's one thing I do envy Reddy," spoke up Peter Rabbit, "and
that is that big tail of his. It is a wonderful tail. I wish I
had one like it."

How everybody laughed as they tried to picture Peter Rabbit with a
big tail like that of Reddy Fox. "I am afraid you wouldn't get far
if you had to carry that around," said Old Mother Nature. "Even
Reddy finds it rather a burden in wet weather when it becomes heavy
with water. That is one reason you do not find him abroad much when
it is raining or in winter when the snow is soft and wet. Reddy Fox
is at home all over the northern half of this country, and everywhere
he is the same sly, clever fellow whom you all know so well.

"In the South and some parts of the East and West, Reddy has a
cousin of about his own size whose coat is gray with red on the
sides of his neck, ears and across his breast. The under part of
his body is reddish, his throat and the middle of his breast are
white. He is called the Gray Fox. He prefers the Green Forest to
the open country, for he is not nearly as smart as his Cousin Reddy.
He is, if anything, a better runner, but his wits are slower and he
cannot so well hold his own against man. Instead of making his home
in a hole in the ground, he usually chooses a hollow tree-trunk or
hollow log. The babies are born in a nest of leaves in the bottom
of a hollow tree. In some parts of the West this Fox is called the
Tree Fox, because often he climbs up in low trees.

"The Gray Fox of the South is not the only cousin of Reddy's,"
continued Old Mother Nature. "In certain parts of the Great West,
on the plains, lives one of the smallest of Reddy's cousins,
called the Kit Fox or Swift. He is no larger than Black Pussy,
Farmer Brown's Cat, and gets his name of Swift from his great
speed in running. He is a prairie animal and lives in burrows in
the ground as most prairie animals do. His back is of a grayish
color, while his sides are yellowish red. Beneath he is white.
The upper side of his tail is yellowish-gray, below it is yellowish,
and the tip is black. In general appearance he is more like the
Gray Fox than Reddy. He lacks the quick wit of Reddy Fox and is
easily trapped.

"In the hot, dry regions of the Southwest, where the Kangaroo Rats
and Pocket Mice live, is another cousin, closely related to the Kit
Fox. This is called the Desert Fox. Like most of the little people
who live on the desert, he is seldom seen by day. He is very swift
of foot. He digs a burrow with several entrances and his food consists
largely of Pocket Mice, Kangaroo Rats, Ground squirrels and such other
small animals as are found in that part of the country. Like his
cousin, the Kit Fox, he is not especially quick-witted. Neither the Kit
Fox nor the Desert Fox are considered very valuable for their coats, and
so are not hunted and trapped as much as are Reddy Fox and his two
cousins of the Great North, the Arctic Fox and the Blue Fox.

"The Arctic, or White Fox, lives in the Far North, in the land of
snow and ice. He is a little fellow, bigger than the Kit Fox, but
only about two thirds the size of Reddy Fox, and very beautiful.
Way up in the Far North his entire coat is snowy white the year
round. The fur is long, very thick and soft. His tail is very
large and handsome. When he lives a little farther south, he
changes his coat in the summer to one of a bluish-brown. But just
as soon as winter approaches, he resumes his white coat. The
young are born in a burrow in the ground, if the parents happen
to be living far enough south for the ground to be free of snow.
In the Far North, their home is a burrow in a snow bank, and
there the babies are born. The white coats of the Arctic Foxes,
who live in a world of white, are of great help to them when
hunting, or when trying to escape from enemies. It is difficult
to see them against their white surroundings. In summer their
food consists very largely of ducks and other wild fowl which nest
in great numbers in the Far North. In the winter they hunt for
Lemmings, Arctic Hares and a cousin of Mrs. Grouse called the
Ptarmigan, who lives up there. They pick the bones left by Polar
Bears and Wolves. Getting a living in winter is not easy, and so
the Arctic Fox is a great traveler.

"The Blue Fox is really only a colored White Fox, just as the Black
Fox is a black Red Fox, and his habits are, of course, just the same
as the habits of the White Fox. There are some islands in the Far
North, called the Pribilof Islands, and on them live many Blue
Foxes. Both the White and the Blue Foxes are much hunted for their
coats, which are considered very valuable by man. Certainly they
are very beautiful. While these cousins of Reddy's are clever hunters
they do not begin to be as quick-witted as Reddy, and so are much
more easily trapped.

"Now I think this will do for Reddy Fox and his relatives. Reddy
is going to stay right here with me, until the rest of you have
had a chance to get home. After that you will have to watch out
for yourselves as usual. Just remember that Reddy has become the
quick-witted person he is because he has been so much hunted. If
you are as smart as Reddy, you will understand that the more he
hunts you, the quicker-witted you also will become. To-morrow we
will take up Reddy's big cousins, the Wolves."



CHAPTER XXVIII Old Man Coyote and Howler the Wolf

"Of course, you all know to what branch of the Dog family Old Man
Coyote belongs," said Old Mother Nature, and looked expectantly at
the circle of little folks gathered around her. No one answered.
"Well, well, well!" exclaimed Old Mother Nature, "I am surprised.
I am very much surprised. I supposed that all of you knew that
Old Man Coyote is a member of the Wolf branch of the family."

"Do you mean that he is really a true Wolf?" asked Striped
Chipmunk timidly.

"Of course," replied Old Mother Nature. "He is all Wolf and nothing
but Wolf. He is the Prairie Wolf, so called because he is a lover
of the great open plains and not of the deep forests like his big
cousin, Howler the Timber Wolf. Reddy Fox is smart, but sometimes
I believe Old Man Coyote is smarter. You have got to get up very
early indeed to get ahead of Old Man Coyote.

"Old Man Coyote varies in size from not so very much bigger than
Reddy Fox to almost the size of his big cousin, Howler the Timber
Wolf. Also he varies in color from a general brownish-gray to a
yellowish-brown, being whitish underneath. His face is rather
longer than that of Reddy Fox. He has a brushy tail, but it is
not as thick as Reddy's.

"In his habits, Old Man Coyote is much like Reddy, but being larger
and stronger he is able to kill larger animals, and has won the hate
of man by killing young Pigs, Lambs, newly born Calves and poultry.
Because of this, he has been and is continually hunted and trapped.
But like Reddy Fox the more he is hunted the smarter he becomes,
and he is quite capable of taking care of himself. He is one of
the swiftest of all runners. Many people think him cowardly because
he is always ready to run away at the least hint of danger. He
isn't cowardly, however; he is simply smart--too smart to run any
unnecessary risk. Old Man Coyote believes absolutely in safety
first, a very wise rule for everybody. The result is that he is
seldom led into the mistake of simply thinking a thing is all
right. He makes sure that it is all right. Because of this he
is very hard to trap. No matter how hungry he may be, he will
turn his back on a baited trap, even when the trap is so cunningly
hidden that he cannot see it.

"Old Man Coyote is a good father and husband and a good provider
for his family. He and Mrs. Coyote have a large family every year,
sometimes as many as ten babies. Their home is in the ground and
is very similar to that of Reddy Fox. They eat almost everything
eatable, including such animals and birds as they can catch, Frogs,
Toads, Snakes and insects, dead bodies they may find, and even some
fruits. Mr. and Mrs. Coyote often hunt together. Sometimes, when
the children are full-grown, they all hunt together. When they do
this they can pull down Lightfoot the Deer.

"Old Man Coyote has one of the strangest voices to be heard anywhere,
and he delights to use it, especially at night. It is like many
voices shouting together, and one who hears it for the first time
cannot believe that all that sound comes from one throat.

"His big cousin, Howler the Gray Wolf, sometimes called Timber Wolf--
is found now only in the forests of the North and the mountains of
the Great West. Once he roamed over the greater part of this great
country. Howler is as keen-witted as, and perhaps keener-witted
than, Reddy Fox or Old Man Coyote, and added to this he has great
strength and courage. He is one of the most feared of all the
people of the Green Forest. In summer when food is plentiful,
Howler and Mrs. Wolf devote themselves to the bringing up of their
family and are careful not to be overbold. But when winter comes,
Howler and his friends get together and hunt in packs. With their
wonderful noses they can follow Lightfoot the Deer and run him down.
They kill Sheep and young Cattle. The harder the winter the bolder
they become, and they have been known to attack man himself. In the
Far North they grow especially large, and because of the scarcity of
food there in winter, they become exceedingly fierce. They can go an
astonishingly long time without food and still retain their strength.
But hunger makes them merciless. They will not attack each other,
but if one in the pack becomes injured, the others will turn upon him,
and kill and eat him at once.

"Howler and Mrs. Wolf mate for life, and each is at all times loyal
to the other. They are the best of parents, and the little Wolves
are carefully trained in all that a Wolf should know. Always the
hand of man has been against them, and this fact has developed their
wits and cunning to a wonderful degree. Man in his effort to destroy
them has used poison, cleverly hiding it in pieces of meat left where
Howler and his friends could find them. Howler soon found out that
there was something wrong with pieces of meat left about, and now it
is seldom that any of his family come to harm in that way. He is
equally cunning in discovering traps, even traps buried in one of
his trails. Sometimes he will dig them up and spring them without
being caught.

"When Wolves hunt in packs they have a leader, usually the strongest
or the smartest among them, and this leader they obey. In all the
great forests there is no more dreadful sound than the howling of a
pack of wolves. There is something in it that strikes terror to the
hearts of all who hear it.

"The color of Howler's coat usually is brownish-gray and that is
why he is called the Gray Wolf; but sometimes it is almost black,
and in the Far North it becomes snowy white. Howler is very
closely related to the Dogs which men keep as pets. They are
really first cousins. Few Dogs dare meet Howler in battle."

"My!" exclaimed Peter Rabbit, "I am glad Howler doesn't live
around here."

"You well may be," said Old Mother Nature. "He would make just
about one bite of you, Peter."

Peter shivered. "Are Old Man Coyote and Howler friends?" asked Peter.

"I wouldn't call them exactly friends, replied Old Mother Nature.
"Old Man Coyote takes pains to keep out of Howler's way, but he is
clever enough to know that when Howler has made a good kill there
may be some left after Howler has filled his own stomach. So when
Howler is hunting in Old Man Coyote's neighbor hood, the latter
keeps an eye and ear open to what is going on. In the long-ago
days when Thunderfoot the Bison was lord of the prairies, Howler's
family lived on the prairies as well as in the forests, but now
Howler sticks pretty closely to the forests and mountains, leaving
the prairies and brushy plains to Old Man Coyote.

"All branches of the Dog family do one thing: they walk on their
toes. They never put the whole foot down flat as does Buster Bear.
And, as you have already discovered, all branches of the Dog family
are very smart. They are intelligent. Hello, there is Black Pussy,
the cat from Farmer Brown's, coming down the Lone Little Path! I
suspect it will be well for some of you smallest ones to get out
of sight before she arrives. She doesn't belong over here in the
Green Forest, but she has a cousin who does, Yowler the Bob Cat.
Shall I tell you about Yowler and his cousins to-morrow?"

"We'd love to have you!" cried Happy Jack, speaking for all.
Then, as Black Pussy was drawing near, they separated and went
their several ways.



CHAPTER XXIX Yowler and His Cousin Tufty

Jumper the Hare arrived at school a little late and quite out of
breath from hurrying. His big soft eyes were shining with
excitement. "You look as though you had had an adventure, Jumper,"
said Old Mother Nature.

"I have," replied Jumper. "It is a wonder I am here at all; I came
to near furnishing Yowler the Bob Cat a breakfast that it makes me
shiver just to think of it. I guess if I hadn't been thinking about
him, he would have caught me."

"Tell us all about it," demanded Old Mother Nature.

"Seeing Black Pussy over here yesterday, and knowing that to-day's
lesson was to be about Yowler, I couldn't get cats out of my mind
all day yesterday," began Jumper. "Black Pussy doesn't worry me,
but I must confess that if there is any one I fear, it is Yowler
the Bob Cat. Just thinking about him make me nervous. The more
I tried not to think about him, the more I did think about him,
and the more I thought about him, the more nervous I got. Then
just before dark, on the bank of the Laughing Brook, I found some
tracks in the mud. Those tracks were almost round, and that fact
was enough to tell me who had made them. They were Yowler's
footprints, and they hadn't been made very long.

"Of course, seeing those footprints made me more nervous than ever,
and every time I saw a leaf move I jumped inside. My heart felt
as if it were up in my throat most of the time. I had a feeling
that Yowler wasn't far away. I hate that Cat! I hate the way he
hunts! He goes sneaking about, without making a sound, or else he
lies in wait, ready to spring without warning on the first one who
happens along. A fellow never knows where to watch out for Yowler.

"I spent nearly all night sitting under a little hemlock tree with
branches very close to the ground. I sat there because I didn't
dare do anything else. As long as I stayed there I felt reasonably
safe, because Yowler would have to find me, and to do that he would
have to cross an open place where I could see him. I knew that if
I went roaming about I might walk right into his clutches.

"It was lucky I had sense enough to stay there. You know the moon
was very bright last night. It made that open place in front of
where I was hiding almost as light as day. Once I closed my eyes
for just a minute. When I opened them, there was Yowler sneaking
across that open place. Where he had come from, I don't know. He
hadn't made a sound. Not a leaf rustled under his big feet. Right
in the middle of that open place, where the moonlight was brightest,
he stopped to listen, and I simply held my breath."

"Tell us how he looked," prompted Old Mother Nature.

"He looked just like what he is--a big Cat with a short tail,"
replied Jumper. "Just to look at him any one would know he was
own cousin to Black Pussy. He had a round head, rather long legs,
and was about twice as big as Black Pussy. His feet looked big,
even for him. On the tips of his ears were a few long black hairs.
His coat was yellowish to reddish-brown, with dark spots on it.
His chin and throat were white, and underneath he was white spotted
with black. There were spots all down his legs. He didn't have
enough of a tail to call it a tail. It was whitish on the under
side and had black stripes on the upper side, and all the time he
kept twitching it just the way Black Pussy twitches her tail when
she is out hunting. All of a sudden he opened his mouth and gave
such a yell that it is a wonder I didn't jump out of my skin. It
frightened me so that I couldn't have moved if I had wanted to,
which was a lucky thing for me. The instant he yelled he cocked
his head on one side and listened. That yell must have wakened
somebody and caused them to move, for Yowler turned suddenly and
crept swiftly and without a sound out of sight. A minute later
I heard a jump, and then I heard a fluttering. I think he caught
one of the Grouse family."

"Yelling that way is one of Yowler's tricks," explained Old Mother
Nature. "He does it for the same reason Hooty the Owl hoots. He
hopes that it will startle some sleeper so that they will move.
If they do, his keen ears are sure to hear it. Was that all of
your adventure, Jumper?"

"No," replied Jumper. "I remained right where I was for the rest
of the night. Just as daylight was beginning to steal through the
Green Forest, I decided that it was safe to leave my hiding place
and come over here. Half-way here I stopped for a few minutes in
a thick clump of ferns. I was just about to start on again when I
caught sight of something moving just back of an old stump. It
was that foolish looking tail of Yowler's. Had he kept it still I
wouldn't have seen him at all; but he was twitching it back and
forth. He was crouched down close to the ground with all four
feet drawn close together under him. There he crouched, and there
I sat for the longest time. I didn't move, and he didn't move,
save that foolish looking tail of his. I had begun to think that
I would have to stay in that clump of ferns all day when suddenly
Yowler sprang like a flash. There was a little squeak, and then I
saw Yowler trot away with a Mouse in his mouth. I guess he must
have seen that Mouse go in a hole and knew that if he waited long
enough it would come out again. As soon as Yowler disappeared I
hurried over here. That's all."

"That was a splendid account of Yowler and his way of hunting," said
Old Mother Nature. "He does most of his hunting in just that way,
sneaking about on the chance of surprising a Rabbit, Bird or Mouse,
or else patiently watching and waiting beside a hole in which he
knows some one has taken refuge. He hunts in the Green Forest
exactly as Black Pussy, Farmer Brown's Cat, hunts Mice in the barn
or Birds in the Old Orchard. In the spring Yowler destroys many
eggs and young birds, not only those found in nests on the ground,
but also those in nests in trees, for he is a splendid climber.

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