The Burgess Animal Book for Children

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"Yowler is found in nearly all of the swampy, brushy and wooded
parts of the whole country, excepting in the great forests of the
Far North, where his cousin Tufty the Lynx lives. Yowler is
himself a Lynx, the Bay Lynx. In some places he is called simply
Wild Cat. In others he is called the Catamount. He is not so
fond of the thick forests as he is of swamps, brush-grown hillsides,
old pastures and places where there are great masses of briars.
Rocky ledges where there are caves in which to hide and plenty of
brush also suit him. He is a coward, but when cornered will fight,
though he will run from a little Dog half his size and take to a
tree. In the South he is quite common and there often steals
Chickens and Turkeys, even young Pigs. He prefers to hunt at
night, but sometimes is seen in broad daylight. Mrs. Yowler's
kittens are born in a cave or in a hollow tree. Despite the fact
that he is an expert climber, Yowler spends most of his time on
the ground and is one of the worst enemies of Rabbits, Mice,
Squirrels and ground Birds.

"In the great forests of the Far North lives Yowler's cousin, Tufty
the Canada Lynx, also called Loup Cervier and Lucivee. He is nearly
a third larger than Yowler. From the tip of each ear long tufts of
black hair stand up. On each side of his face is a ruff of long
hair. His tail is even shorter than Yowler's, and the tip of it is
always wholly black. His general color is gray, mottled with brown.
His face ruff is white with black border. Yowler's feet are large,
but Tufty's are immense for his size. This is because Tufty lives
where the snow lies deep for many months, and these big, broad feet
enable him to travel about on the snow without breaking through. He
can travel with ease where Reddy Fox, not half his size and weight,
would break through at every step. Tufty's ways are much like those
of his cousin, Yowler, save that he is a dweller in the deep woods.
Anything he can catch is food for Tufty, but his principal food is the
Northern Hare. The color of his coat blends with the shadows so that
he seems like a living shadow himself. In summer food is plentiful,
and Tufty lives well, but in winder Tufty has hard work to get enough.
Rarely does he know what a full stomach means then. Like Howler he
can go a surprising length of time without food and still retain his
strength. At that time of year he is a great traveler. He has to
be, in order to live.

"There is no fiercer looking animal in all the Green Forest than
Tufty the Lynx, but despite this he is, like most Cats, cowardly.
Only when cornered will he fight. He is possessed of a lively
curiosity, and often he will stealthily follow a hunter or trapper
for miles. The fur of his coat is very long and handsome, and he
is hunted and trapped for this. As he lives for the most part far
from the homes of men, he does less damage to man than does his
cousin, Yowler the Bob Cat. Tufty must depend wholly for his living
on the little people of the Green Forest. Sometimes he will attack
a Fox. The pretty little spotted babies of Lightfoot the Deer are
victims whenever he can find them.

"The darker and deeper the Green Forest, the better Tufty likes
it. He makes his den under great tangles of fallen trees or
similar places. Mr. And Mrs. Tufty often hunt together, and in
early winter the whole family often join in the hunt.

"Yowler and Tufty are the only members of the Cat family now found
in the eastern part of the country. Formerly, their big cousin,
Puma the Panther, lived in the East, but he has been so hunted by
man that now he is found only in the mountains of the Far West and
in a few of the wildest places in the South. I will tell you about
him to-morrow."

CHAPTER XXX Some Big and Little Cat Cousins

"Puma the Panther," began Old Mother Nature, "is the largest member
of the Cat family in this country, with the exception of one which is
found only in the extreme Southwest. Puma is also called Mountain
Lion, Cougar and Painter. You all know how Black Pussy looks. If
Black Pussy could grow to be over eight feet long and be given a
yellowish-brown coat, whitish underneath, she would look very much
like Puma the Panther. Unlike Yowler the Bob Cat and Tufty the Lynx,
Puma has a long tail--just such a round tail as Black Pussy has.
Being so large, Puma is of great strength, and he has all the grace
and quickness in movement of a true Cat. As I told you yesterday,
there was a time when Puma lived in the East. In fact, he was once
in nearly all parts of this great country where there were forests.
But as the country became settled by man, Puma was driven out, and
now his home is chiefly in the great mountains of the Far West.

"Being so big, he must have much food. Instead of depending for his
living on small animals and birds, Puma hunts the large animals. He
is so big and so strong that he can kill Lightfoot the Deer without
trouble, and there is no one Lightfoot dreads more than Puma. He is
especially fond of Horse flesh, and in certain sections where herds
of Horses are pastured, he has killed so many young Horses that he
has won the undying hate of man.

"Big as he is, he is a coward and will run from a barking Dog.
When desperate with hunger, he has been known to attack man, but
such occasions have been very, very rare. The fact is, he fears
man and will slink sway at his approach. Like the true Cat that
he is, he is wonderfully soft-footed and, despite his great size,
moves silently. He makes his home among the ledges high up in the
mountains. At night he goes forth to hunt. Once in a while he is
seen hunting in daytime, but not often. Sometimes he may be seen
basking in the sun, high up on the ledges. He is a good climber,
like most Cats. He never shows himself boldly, but slinks about
through the forest and among the rocks, the picture of stealth.
This habit has won for him another name--that of Sneak Cat.
Sometimes he sneaks up on his prey to within jumping distance.
Again he lies in wait beside a path which certain animals are in
the habit of using. He is capable of leaping a long distance, and
when he strikes his prey his great weight, added to the force of
his spring, is almost certain to knock it down, even though it be
much bigger than Puma himself.

"Men hunt him with Dogs, for as I have already told you he will run
from a barking Dog. Usually he doesn't run far before taking to a
tree. The hunters follow and shoot him there. Were it not that he
can be hunted in this way with Dogs, he would have little to fear
from man, for he is so keen of sight and hearing and can move so
swiftly and silently, that it is rarely man can surprise him.
Sometimes he will follow a man just as Tufty the Lynx does, but
usually for the same reason--curiosity. Despite the fact that he
is a sneak and coward, he is so big and fierce-looking that he is
feared by most men. Only those who really know him do not fear him.

"There is one other member of the Cat family in all this great land
larger than Puma, and this is Jaguar, also called El Tigre. He is
found only in a small part of the extreme Southwest, for he really
belongs in the hot country to the south of this. Not only is he
the largest, but he is the handsomest of all the Cat family. His
coat is a beautiful deep yellow, covered with spots and rosettes of
black. Beneath he is white with large black spots. He also has a
fairly long tail. He is thick and heavy, and is not as long as
Puma, but is stouter and heavier. He can kill Horses, Mules and
Cattle with ease, but of course the principal part of his food
consists of the wild animals about him. He is so savage in appearance
that the mere sight of him always awakens fear. His method of hunting
is much the same as that of the other members of the Cat family. Most
of his hunting is done at night. While Puma the panther sometimes
screams, Jaguar roars, and it is a very terrifying sound. All the
little people and most of the big ones within hearing shiver when
they hear it. Jaguar's head is large and he is tremendously strong
in the jaws. Occasionally Jaguar is all black instead of being
yellow and spotted.

"In this same part of the great Southwest lives a smaller cousin
named Ocelot, often called Tiger Cat. Ocelot is only a little
bigger than Black Pussy, whom you all know, and in shape is very
like her. He also has a lovely coat. It is yellow, not a deep,
rich yellow like Jaguar's, but a light yellow, thickly covered with
black spots. On his cheeks and the back of his neck are black lines,
and his tail is ringed with black. He likes best country where the
brush is very thick and thorny, for there he can hunt in safety,
with little fear of being hunted by man. Because of his smaller
size, he lives chiefly on small animals, birds and reptiles. He
sometimes kills and eats big Snakes. When he happens to live near
man, he robs the Hen roosts just as Yowler does. In all his ways
he is like the other members of the Cat family.

"A neighbor of his in that same country is the queerest looking
member of the Cat family. He is called the Jaguarundi Cat or
Eyra. Sometimes he is dressed in dull gray and sometimes in rusty
red. His body is shaped more like that of Little Joe Otter than
of any one else, and he has short legs and a long tail. He is a
little larger than Little Joe, and his head is rather small and
somewhat flattened, not so round as the heads of most of the
other members of the Cat family. He likes to be in the vicinity
of water and is a good swimmer. Not very much is known by man
about his habits, but he is a true Cat, and the habits of all
Cats are much the same."

CHAPTER XXXI Bobby Coon Arrives

Old Mother Nature was just about to open school when a slight noise
up the Lone Little Path drew all eyes in that direction. There,
shuffling down the Lone Little Path, was a queer looking fellow.
No one needed more than one look at that funny, sharp, black and
white face of his to recognize him.

"Bobby Coon!" shouted Peter Rabbit. "Are you coming to join our
school, Bobby?"

Bobby shuffled along a little nearer, then sat up and blinked at
them sleepily. No one needed to be told that Bobby had been out
all night. He rubbed his eyes and yawned. "Hello, everybody,"
said he. "I wish I felt as bright and lively as all of you look.
I'd like to join your school, but I'm afraid if I did I would go
to sleep right in the middle of the lesson. I ought to have been
home an hour ago. So I guess I'll have to be excused."

Old Mother Nature pointed an accusing finger at Bobby Coon.
"Bobby," said she, "You've been getting in mischief. Now own up
you've been stealing some of that sweet, milky corn from Farmer
Brown's cornfield."

Bobby Coon hung his head. "I--I--I don't think it was stealing," he
mumbled. "That corn just grows, and I don't see why I shouldn't have
my share of it. I help myself to other things, so why shouldn't I
help myself to that?"

"I'll tell you why," replied Old Mother Nature. "Farmer Brown
planted that corn and took care of it. If he hadn't planted it,
there wouldn't have been any corn there. That makes it his corn.
If it grew wild, you would have a perfect right to it. As it is,
you haven't any right to it at all. Now take my advice, Bobby, and
keep away from that cornfield. If you don't, you will get in trouble.
One of these fine nights Bowser the Hound will find you there and you
will have to run for your life. Keep away from temptation."

"But that corn is so good," sighed Bobby Coon, smacking his lips.
"There is nothing I like better than sweet, milky corn, and if I
don't get it from Farmer Brown's cornfield, I can't get it at all,
for it doesn't grow wild. He'll never miss the little I take."

Old Mother Nature shook her head and looked very grave. "Bobby,"
said she, "that is no excuse at all. Mark what I say: If you keep
on you certainly will get in trouble. If you would be satisfied
to take just an ear or two, I don't believe Farmer Brown would care,
but you know very well that you spoil many times what you eat. You
sample one ear, then think that probably the next ear will be better
and sweeter and you try that. By the time you get through you have
spoiled a lot, and eaten only a little. I think I'll punish you a
little myself by keeping you here a while. If you think you can't
keep awake, just go over and sit down there by Prickly Porky; he'll
keep you awake."

"I--I think I can keep awake," stammered Bobby and opened his eyes
very wide as if he were trying to stretch his eyelids so as to make
them stay open.

"I'll help you by asking you a few questions," replied Old Mother
Nature. Who is it that people sometimes call you the little
cousin of?"

Bobby grinned. "Buster Bear," said he.

"That's right," replied Old Mother Nature.

"Of course, being a Raccoon, you are not a Bear, but you are related
to the Bear family. I want you all to notice Bobby's footprints
over yonder. You will see that the print of his hind foot shows
the whole foot, heels and toes, and is a lot like Buster Bear's
footprint on a small scale. Bobby shuffles along in much the same
way that Buster walks. No one ever mistakes Bobby Coon for any one
else. There is no danger that any one ever will as long as he
carries that big, bushy tail with its broad black and gray rings.
There is only one other in all this great country with a tail so
marked, and that is a relative of Bobby's of whom I will tell you
later. And there is no other face like Bobby's with its black
cheeks. You will notice that Bobby is rather small around the
shoulders, but is big and heavy around the hips. That gives him
a clumsy look, but he is anything but clumsy. Despite the fact
that his legs are not very long Bobby is a very good runner.
However, he doesn't do any running unless he has to. Bobby, where
were you before you went over to Farmer Brown's cornfield?"

Once more Bobby hung his head. It was quite clear that Bobby
didn't want to answer that question. But Old Mother Nature
insisted, and finally Bobby blurted it out. "I was up to Farmer
Brown's hen house," said he.

"What for?" asked Old Mother Nature.

"Oh, just to look around," replied Bobby.

"To look around for what?" insisted Old Mother Nature.

"Well," said Bobby, "I thought one of those Hens up there might
have dropped an egg that she didn't really care about."

"Bobby," said Old Mother Nature sternly, "why don't you own up
that you went over there to try to steal eggs? Or did you think
you might catch a tender young Chicken? Where were you night
before last?"

"Over at the Laughing Brook and the Smiling Pool," replied Bobby
promptly, evidently glad the subject had been changed.

"Well, you didn't find sweet corn or eggs or Chickens over there,
did you?" said Old Mother Nature.

"No, but I caught three of the sweetest tasting little fish in a
little pool in the Laughing Brook, and I got some of the tenderest
Clams I've ever eaten," replied Bobby, smacking his lips. "I raked
them out of the mud and opened them. Down at the Smiling Pool I
had a lot of fun catching young Frogs. I certainly do like Frogs.
It is great sport to catch them, and they are fine eating."

"I suppose you have had an eye on the beech trees and the wild
grape-vines," said Old Mother Nature slyly.

Bobby's face brightened. "Indeed I have," said he. "There will
be splendid crops of beechnuts and grapes this fall. My, but
they will taste good!"

Old Mother Nature laughed. "There is small danger that you will go
hungry," said she. "When you can't find enough to eat times must
be very hard indeed. For the benefit of the others you might add
that in addition to the things mentioned you eat other fruits,
including berries, insects of various kinds, birds when you can
catch them, Mice, Turtles, in fact almost anything that can be
eaten. You are not at all fussy about the kind of food. But
you have one habit in regard to your food which it would be well
if some of these other little folks followed. Do you know what
it is?"

Bobby shook his head. "No," said he, "not unless you mean the
habit I have of washing my food. If there is any water near,
I always like to take what I am going to eat over to it and wash
it; somehow it tastes better."

"Just so," replied Old Mother Nature. "More than once I've seen
you in the moonlight beside the Laughing Brook washing your food,
and it has always pleased me, for there is nothing like cleanliness
and neatness. Did you raise a family this year, Bobby?"

"Mrs. Coon did. We had four of the finest youngsters you have ever
seen over in a certain big hollow tree. They are getting big and
lively now, and go out with their mother every night. I do hope
the hunters will leave them alone this fall. I hate to think of
anything happening to them. If they can just get through the
hunting season safely, I'll enjoy my winter sleep better, and I
know Mrs. Coon will."

At this Johnny Chuck pricked up his ears. "Do you sleep all
winter, Bobby?" he asked eagerly.

"Not all winter, but a good part of it," replied Bobby. "I don't
turn in until the weather gets pretty cold, and it is hard to find
anything to eat. But after the first snow I'm usually ready to
sleep. Then I curl up in a warm bed of leaves in a certain big
hollow tree, and don't care how cold or stormy the weather is.
Sometimes I wake up once or twice, when the weather is mild, and
take a little walk around for exercise. But I don't go far and
soon return to sleep."

"What do you do when Bowser the Hound gets after you?" asked
Peter Rabbit.

"Run till I get out of breath," replied Bobby. "And if by that time
I haven't been able to fool him so that he loses my trail, I take to
a tree. Thank goodness, he can't climb a tree. Sometimes I climb
from the top of one tree into the top of another, and sometimes
into a third and then a fourth, when they are near enough together.
That fools the hunters, if they follow Bowser."

"Have you any relatives, Bobby?" asked Old Mother Nature.

"I didn't know I had until you mentioned that fellow with the ringed
tail you said you would tell us about. I didn't know there was
anybody with a tail like mine, and I would like to know about it,"
replied Bobby.

"He isn't exactly a Raccoon, but he is more nearly related to you
than any one else," replied Old Mother Nature. "His tail shows
that. Aside from this, he is nothing like you at all. He is
called the Ring-tailed Cat. But he doesn't look any more like a
Cat than he does like you, and he isn't related to the Cat family
at all. He has several names. He is called the Bassaris, the
Civet Cat, Ring-tailed Cat, Coon Cat and Cacomixtle. Instead of
being thick and clumsy-looking, as is Bobby here, he is long and
rather slender, with a yellowish-brown coat, somewhat grayish on
the back and whitish underneath. His head is rather small, long
and beautifully shaped. His ears are of good size and very pretty.
In some ways he looks like Reddy Fox. But the really beautiful
thing about him is his tail. It is nearly as long as his body,
thick and beautifully marked with black and white bands.

"He is quick and graceful in his movements, and, like Bobby, prefers
to be abroad at night. Also, like Bobby, he eats about everything
that he can find--flesh, reptiles, fruit, nuts and insects. He
lives in the Far Southwest, and also in some of the mountains of
the Far West. Why he should be called Civet Cat is more than I can
guess, for he is neither a Civet nor a Cat. He is very clever at
catching Mice, and sometimes he is kept as a pet, just as Farmer
Brown keeps Black Pussy, to catch the Mice about the homes of men.

"Now, Bobby, you can trot along home, and I hope all that green
corn you have eaten will not give you the stomach ache. To-morrow
we will see what we can find out about Buster Bear."

CHAPTER XXXII Buster Bear Nearly Breaks Up School

"Has Buster Bear a tail?" asked Old Mother Nature, and her
eyes twinkled.

"No," declared Whitefoot the Wood Mouse promptly.

"Yes," contradicted Chatterer the Red Squirrel.

"What do you say, Prickly Porky?" Old Mother Nature asked.

"I don't think he has any; if he has, I've never seen it," said
Prickly Porky.

"That's because you've got poor eyes," spoke up Jumper the Hare.
"He certainly has a tail. It isn't much of a one, but it is a
tail. I know because I've seen it many times."

"Woof, woof," said a deep, rumbly, grumbly voice. "What's going
on here? Who is it hasn't any tail?"

At the sound of that deep, rumbly, grumbly voice it looked for a
few minutes as if school would be broken up for that day. There
was the same mad scrambling to get away that there had been the
morning Reddy Fox unexpectedly appeared. However, there was this
difference: When Reddy appeared, most of the little people sought
safe hiding places, but now they merely ran to safe distances,
and there turned to stare with awe and great respect at the owner
of that deep, rumbly, grumbly voice. It was great, big Buster
Bear himself.

Buster stood up on his hind legs, like a man, and his small eyes,
for they are small for his size, twinkled with fun as he looked
around that awe filled circle. "Don't let me interrupt," said
he. "I heard about this school and I thought I would just pay a
friendly visit. There is nothing for you to fear. I have just
had my breakfast and I couldn't eat another mouthful to save me,
not even such a tender morsel as Whitefoot the Wood Mouse."

Whitefoot hurriedly ran a little farther away, and Buster Bear
chuckled. Then he looked over at Old Mother Nature. "Won't you
tell them that I'm the best-natured and most harmless fellow in
all the Great World?" he asked.

Old Mother Nature smiled. "That depends on the condition of your
stomach," said she. "If it is as full as you say it is, and I know
you wouldn't tell me an untruth, not even timid Whitefoot has
anything to fear from you." Then she told all the little people
to put aside their fears and return.

Buster, seeing that some of the more timid were still fearful,
backed off a short distance and sat down on his haunches. "What
was that about a tail I overheard as I came up?" he asked.

"It was a little discussion as to whether or not you have a tail,"
replied Old Mother Nature. "Some say you have, and some say you
haven't. Whitefoot thinks you haven't."

Once more Buster Bear chuckled way down deep in his throat.
"Whitefoot never in his life looked at me long enough to know
whether I've got a tail or not," said he. "I never yet have
seen him until now, when he wasn't running away as fast as his
legs could take him. So with me always behind him, how could he
tell whether or not I have a tail?"

"Well, have you?" demanded Peter Rabbit bluntly.

"What do you think?" asked Buster.

"I think you have," said Peter. "But if you have you are sitting
down on it and I can't tell. It can't be much of a one, anyhow."

Again Buster chuckled. "Quite right, Peter; quite right," said
he. "I've got a tail, but hardly enough of a one to really call
it a tail."

As Buster sat there, every one had a splendid chance to see just
how he looked. His coat was all black; in fact he was black all
over, with the exception of his nose, which was brown. His fur
was long and rather shaggy. His ears were round. His paws were
big and armed with strong, wicked looking claws.

"You all see what a black coat Buster has," said Old Mother Nature.
"Now I'm going to tell you something which may surprise you. Just
as there are Red Foxes that are black, so there are Black Bears
that are brown."

"What's that?" grunted Buster, with the funniest look of surprise
on his face.

"It's a fact, Buster," said Old Mother Nature. "A great many of
your family live out in the mountains of the Far West, and there
quite often there will be one who is all brown. People used to
think that these brown Bears were a different kind of Bear, and
called them Cinnamon Bears. It was a long, long time before it
was found out that those brown Bears are really black Bears.
Sometimes one of the twin babies will be all black and the other
all brown. Sometimes one of Buster's family will have a white
spot on his breast. Buster's branch of the family is found in
nearly all of the wooded parts of the entire country. In the
Sunny South they live in the swamps and do not grow as big as in
the North. Buster, there is a soft spot on the ground; I want
you to walk across it so that these little folks can see your
footprints."

Good-naturedly Buster dropped on all fours and walked across the
soft spot. Right away every one understood why Old Mother Nature
had asked Buster to do this. The prints of his hind feet were
very like the prints of Farmer Brown's boy when barefooted, only
of course very much larger. You see, they showed the print of
the heel as well as the rest of the foot.

"You see," said Old Mother Nature, "Buster puts his whole foot on
the ground, while all members of the Dog and Cat families walk
wholly on their toes. Animals that put the whole foot down are
called plantigrade. How big do you think Buster was when he
was born?"

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