The Burgess Animal Book for Children

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"Of course I'm only guessing," said Chatterer the Red Squirrel,
"but he is such a big fellow that I think he must have been a
bouncing big baby."

Old Mother Nature smiled. "I don't wonder you think so," said she.
"The fact is, however, Buster was a very tiny and very helpless
little chap. He was just about the size of one of Prickly Porky's
babies. He was no bigger than a Rat. He was born in the middle of
winter and didn't get his eyes open for forty days. It was two
months before he poked his head outside the den in which he was
born, to find out what the Great World was like. At that time he
wasn't much bigger than Peter Rabbit, and he and his twin sister
were as lively a pair of youngsters and as full of mischief as
any Bears the Green Forest has ever seen. You might tell us,
Buster, what you live on."

Buster's eyes snapped. "I live on anything I can eat, and I can
eat most everything. I suppose a lot of people think I live
almost wholly on the little people who are my neighbors, but that
is a mistake. I do catch Mice when I am lucky enough to find them
where I can dig them out, and they certainly are good eating."

At this Whitefoot the Wood Mouse and Danny Meadow Mouse hastily
scurried farther away, and Buster's eyes twinkled with mischief.
"Of course I don't mind a Rabbit either, if I am lucky enough to
catch one," said he, and Peter Rabbit quickly backed off a few
steps. "In fact I like meat of any kind," continued Buster. "But
the greater part of my food isn't meat at all. In the spring I
dig up roots of different kinds, and eat tender grass shoots and
some bark and twigs from young trees. When the insects appear
they help out wonderfully. I am very fond of Ants. I pull over
all the old logs and tear to pieces all the old stumps I can find,
and lick up the Ants and their eggs that I am almost sure to find
there. Almost any kind of insect tastes good to me if there are
enough of them. I love to find and dig open the nests of Wasps
that make their homes in the ground, and of course I suppose you
all know that there is nothing in the world I like better than
honey. If I can find a Bee nest I am utterly happy. For the sake
of the honey, I am perfectly willing to stand all the stinging the
Bees can give me. I like fish and I love to hunt Frogs. When the
berry season begins, I just feast. In the fall I get fat on
beechnuts and acorns. The fact is, there isn't much I don't like."

"I've been told you sleep all winter," said Johnny Chuck.

"That depends on the winter," replied Buster Bear. "I don't go to
sleep until I have to. I don't have to as long as I can find
enough to eat. If the winter begins early, with bad weather, I
make a comfortable bed of leaves in a cave or under a big pile
of fallen trees or even in a hollow log, if I can find one big
enough. Then I go to sleep for the rest of the winter. But if
the winter is mild and open and there is a chance of finding
anything to eat, I sleep only in the really bad weather."

"Do you try to get fat before going to sleep, the way I do?" asked
Johnny Chuck.

Buster grinned. "Yes, Johnny, I try," said he, "and usually I
succeed. You see, I need to be fat in order to keep warm and also
to have something to live on in the spring, just the same as you do.

"I've been told that you can climb, but as I don't live in the Green
Forest I have never seen you climb. I should think it would be slow
work for such a big fellow as you to climb a tree," said Johnny Chuck.

Buster looked up at Happy Jack Squirrel and winked. Then he walked
over to the tree in which Happy Jack was sitting, stood up and
suddenly began to scramble up the tree. There was nothing slow
about the way Buster Bear went up that tree. Happy Jack squealed
with sudden fright and started for the top of that tree as only
Happy Jack can climb. Then he made a flying jump to the next tree.
Halfway up Buster stopped. Then he began to come down. He came
down tail first. When he was within ten feet of the ground he
simply let go and dropped.

"I did that just to show you how I get out of a tree when I am
really in a hurry," explained Buster. "I don't climb trees much
now unless it is for honey, but when I was a little fellow I used
to love to climb trees."

Suddenly Buster sat up very straight and pointed his nose up in
the wind. An anxious look crept into his face. He cocked his ears
as if listening with all his might. That is just what he was doing.
Presently he dropped down to all fours. "Excuse me," said he, "I
think I had better be going. Farmer Brown is coming down the Lone
Little Path."

Buster turned and disappeared at a speed that was simply astonishing
in such a clumsy-looking fellow. Old Mother Nature laughed.
"Buster's eyes are not very good," said she, "but there is nothing
the matter with his nose or with his ears. If Buster says that
Farmer Brown is coming down the Lone Little Path, there is no doubt
that he is, although he may be some distance away yet. Buster has
been smart enough to learn that he has every reason to fear man,
and he promptly takes himself out of the way at the first hint that
man is near. It is a funny thing, but most men are as afraid of
Buster as Buster is of them, and they haven't the least need of
being afraid at all. Where man is concerned there isn't one of
you little people more timid than Buster Bear. The faintest smell
of man will make him run. If he should be wounded or cornered, he
would fight. Mrs. Bear would fight to protect her babies, but these
are the only conditions under which a Black Bear will face a man.
You think Buster is big, and he is, but Buster has relatives very
much bigger than he. He has one beside whom he would look actually
small. I'll tell you a little about these cousins of Buster."

CHAPTER XXXIII Buster Bear's Big Cousins

Buster Bear had been right about the coming of Farmer Brown. It
was only a few minutes after Buster's disappearance that Farmer
Brown's footsteps were heard coming down the Lone Little Path,
and of course that ended school for that morning. But the next
morning all were on hand again at sun-up, for every one wanted to
hear about Buster Bear's big cousins.

"Way out in the mountains of the Far West, where Whistler the
Marmot and Little Chief the Pika live, is a big cousin of Buster
Bear," began Old Mother Nature. "He is Silvertip the Grizzly
Bear, and in the past no animal in all this great country was so
feared by man, as he. But times have changed, and Silvertip has
been so hunted with terrible guns that he has learned to fear man
quite as much as Buster does.

"He is larger than Buster and possessed of tremendous strength.
Instead of a black coat, he has a coat which varies from yellowish-
brown to almost black. The tips of the hairs usually are lighter,
giving him a frosted appearance, and this is what has given him his
name. His claws are longer and more curved than those of Buster;
in fact those claws are so big that they look very terrible.
Because they are so long, Silvertip cannot climb trees. But if
they prevent him climbing trees they are the finest kind of tools
for digging out Marmots and ground Squirrels. Even when Whistler
the Marmot makes his home down in among the rocks, he is not safe.
Silvertip's strength is so great that he can pull over and roll
aside great rocks.

"He is a great traveler and covers a wide range of country in his
search for food. Sometimes he visits the Cattle ranges and kills
Cattle. So great is his strength that he can kill a Cow with ease.
Clumsy looking as he is, he is a very fast runner, and only a fast
Horse can outrun him. Like Buster, he lives on anything he can
find that is eatable. He has been so hunted by man that he has
become very cunning, and in all the great mountains where he lives
there is no one with quicker wits. At certain seasons of the year
great numbers of a fish called Salmon come up the rivers in that
country, and then Silvertip lives high. He watches beside a pool
until a Salmon swims within reach; then, with a swift movement of
one paw, he scoops the fish on to the bank. Or he finds a place
where the water is so shallow that the fish have difficulty in
getting across, and there he seizes them as they struggle up the
river. In winter he sleeps just as Buster does, usually in a
well-hidden cave.

"Mrs. Silvertip is a splendid mother. Usually the cubs, of which
as a rule there are two, remain with her until they are a year old.
Both Buster Bear and Silvertip have a queer habit of standing up
against a tree and biting it as high up as they can reach. The
next Bear who comes along that way sees the mark and makes his
own on the same tree. Silvertip knows every inch of that part of
the country in which he lives and always picks out the best way
of getting from one place to another. He is one of the finest
animals in this country, and it is a matter for sadness that his
splendid race will soon come to an end unless man makes laws to
protect him from the hunters. In very many places where he used
to be found he lives no longer.

"Silvertip is not so good-natured as Buster, but all he asks is
to be left alone. Of course when he turns Cattle killer he is
getting into the worst possible kind of mischief and man cannot
be blamed for hunting him. But it is only now and then that one
of Silvertip's family turns Cattle killer. The others do no harm.

"I told you yesterday that Buster Bear has one cousin beside whom
he would look small. This is Bigfoot the Alaska or Great Brown
Bear, who lives in the extreme northwest part of the continent.
Even Silvertip would look small beside him. He is a giant, the
largest flesh-eating animal in all the great world. His coat is
dark brown. When he stands up on his hind legs, he is almost half
again as tall as a tall man. He stands very high at the shoulders
and his head is very large. Like the other members of the Bear
family, he eats all sorts of things. He hunts for Mice and other
small animals, digs up roots, stuffs himself with berries, and at
times grazes on a kind of wild grass, just as Cattle might do. He
is a great fish eater, for fish are very plentiful in the streams
in the country where he lives. Big as he is, he has learned to
fear man just as Silvertip has. Occasionally when surprised he
has been known to attack man and kill him, but as a rule he will
run at the first hint of man's approach.

"The last of the Bear cousins is Snow King the Polar Bear. Snow
King is king of the Frozen North. He lives in the region of snow
and ice, and his coat is all white. He also is a big Bear, and of
somewhat different shape from his cousins. He is longer, and has
a much longer neck and a long head. His ears are rather small and
close to his head. Snow King lives the year round where it would
seem that no animal could live, and he manages to live well.
Though his home is in the coldest part of the Great World, he does
not mind the cold at all.

"More than any other member of the Bear family, Snow King is a
flesh eater. This is because only in certain places, and then only
for a few weeks in midsummer, is there any plant life. He is a
great fisherman, and fish furnish him a great deal of his food. In
that far northern country are great numbers of animals who live in
the ocean, but come ashore to rest and bask in the sun, and to have
their babies there. They are Seals, Sea Lions and Walruses. I will
tell you about them later. On these Snow King depends for much of
his food. He is himself a wonderful swimmer, and often swims far
out in the icy water.

"Up there there are great fields of floating ice, and Snow King
swims from one to another in search of Seals, for they often
climb out on these ice fields, just as they do on shore.
Sometimes Mrs. Bear takes her cubs for long swims. When they
become tired, one will climb on her back, and the other will
seize her tail, so she will carry one and tow the other.

"Snow King's babies are born in a house of snow. Early in the
winter Mrs. Bear finds a sheltered place where the snow will drift
over her. There she goes to sleep, and the snow drifts and drifts
over her until she is buried deep. You might think she would be
cold, but she isn't, for the snow keeps her warm. Her breath melts
a little hole up through the snow, so that she always has air.
There the babies are born, and there they remain, just as Buster
Bear's remain in their home, until they are big enough to follow
their mother about. Then she breaks her way out in the spring, and
leads her cubs forth to teach them how to take care of themselves.
Snow King, himself, does not sleep through the winter, but roams
about, just as in the summer.

"Snow King is fearless and has not yet learned to dread man, as
have his cousins. He will not hesitate to attack man and is
terrible to meet at close quarters. Because he lives in that far,
cold country, he is not hunted as much as other bears are. Besides
the Seals and fish, he sometimes catches an Arctic Hare. In the
summer great numbers of Ducks and other sea birds nest in that
far northern country, and their eggs and young add to Snow King's
bill of fare. His white coat is so in keeping with his surroundings
that it is of the greatest aid to him in his hunting. It is a
very beautiful coat and makes him the most beautiful of all the
Bear family.

"Now this is all about the Bears, and also it is all about the order
of flesh eaters, or Carnivora. I think that next we will see what
we can find out about a certain little friend of yours, who, though
he eats flesh, is not a member of the flesh-eating order at all, but
belongs to an order of which he is the only member in this country.
I will leave you to guess who it is."

CHAPTER XXXIV Unc' Billy and Old Mrs. Possum

All the way home from school Peter Rabbit did his best to think who
it could be who ate flesh, yet wasn't a member of the order of
flesh eaters. Every few hops he would stop to think, but all his
stopping and all his thinking were in vain, and when he started
for school the next morning he was as puzzled as ever. On his way
through the Green Forest he passed a certain tree. He was just
past and no more when a familiar voice hailed him.

"Morning, Bre'r Rabbit," said the voice. "What's yo' hurry?" Peter
stopped abruptly and looked up in that tree. There, peering down at
him from a hole high up in the trunk, was a sharp, whitish-gray face,
with a pair of twinkling black eyes.

"Hello, Unc' Billy," cried Peter. "How are you and Ol' Mrs. Possum?"

"Po'ly, Peter, Po'ly. We-uns haven't had breakfast yet, so we-uns
are feeling po'ly," replied Unc' Billy with a grin.

A sudden thought popped into Peter's head. "Unc' Billy," cried
Peter excitedly, "are you a Carnivora?"

Unc' poked his head a little farther out and put his hand behind
his ear as if he were a little hard of hearing. "What's that,
Bre'r Rabbit? Am I a what?" he demanded.

"Are you a Carnivora?" repeated Peter.

"Ah reckons Ah might be if Ah knew what it was, but as long as Ah
don't, Ah reckons I ain't," retorted Unc' Billy. "Ah reckons Ah'm
just plain Possum. When Ah wants to be real uppity, Ah puts on an
'o.' Then Ah am Mister Opossum."

But Peter wasn't listening. The fact is, Peter had started
lipperty-lipperty-lip for school, without even being polite enough
to say good-by. He arrived at school quite out of breath. "I
know!" he panted. "I know!"

"What do you know?" asked Old Mother Nature.

"I know who it is who eats flesh, yet doesn't belong to the order
of flesh eaters. It's Unc' Billy Possum!" cried Peter.

"Right you are," replied Old Mother Nature. "However did you find
it out?"

"I didn't exactly find it out; I guessed it," replied Peter. "On
my way here I saw Unc' Billy, and it popped into my head right
away that he was one we haven't heard about, and must be the one.
But if he eats flesh, I don't see why he isn't a member of the
order of flesh eaters."

"It is because he belongs to a group which has something which
makes them entirely different from all other animals, and for
this reason they have been given an order of their own," explained
Old Mother Nature. "They belong to the order of Marsupials,
which means pouched animals. It is because the mothers have big
pockets in which they carry their babies. Old Mrs. Possum has
just such a pocket."

"Of course," exclaimed Peter. "I've seen those babies poking
their heads out of that pocket. They look too funny for anything."

"The Opossums are the only Marsupials in this country," continued
Old Mother Nature. "Now have I made it quite clear why, although
they eat flesh, Unc' Billy and Ol' Mrs. Possum are not members of
the same big order as Buster Bear and the other flesh eaters?"

Everybody nodded. Just then Chatterer the Red Squirrel shouted,
"Here comes Unc' Billy, Ol' Mrs. Possum and all the little Possums."

Sure enough, down the Lone Little Path came the Possum family, and
a funny looking sight they were. Unc' Billy was whitish-gray, his
face whiter than the rest of him. He looked as if he had just
gotten out of bed and forgotten to brush his hair; it pointed every
which way. His legs were dark, his feet black and his toes white.
His ears were without any hair at all, and were black for the lower
half, the rest being white. He had a long whitish tail without any
hair on it. Altogether, with his sharp face and naked tail, he
looked a great deal as though he might be a giant Rat.

But if Unc' Billy was a funny-looking fellow, Ol' Mrs. Possum was
even more funny-looking. She seemed to have heads and tails all
over her. You see, she had brought along her family, and Ol' Mrs.
Possum is one of those who believe in large families. There were
twelve youngsters, and they were exactly like their parents, only
small. They were clinging all over Ol' Mrs. Possum. Some were on
her back, some were clinging to her sides, and a couple were in
the big pocket, where they had spent their babyhood.

"We--all done thought we'd come to school," explained Unc' Billy
with a grin.

"I'm glad you did," replied Old Mother Nature. "You see, the rest
of your friends here are a little curious about the Possum family."

Meanwhile Ol' Mrs. Possum was climbing a tree, and when she had
reached a comfortable crotch the little Possums left her and began
to play about in the tree. It was then that it appeared what handy
things those naked little tails were. When the little Possums
crawled out where the branches were small, they simply wrapped
their tails around the twigs to keep from falling.

"My!" exclaimed Peter. "Those certainly are handy tails."

"Handiest tails ever was," declared Unc' Billy. "Don't know what
Ah ever would do without mah tail."

"Suppose you climb a tree, Unc' Billy, and show your friends here
how you manage to get the eggs from a nest that you cannot reach
by crawling along the branch on which it is placed," said Old
Mother Nature.

Unc' Billy grinned, and good-naturedly started up a tree. He crept
out on a branch that overhung another branch. Way out where the
branch was small crept Unc' Billy. Then he wrapped the end of his
tail around the branch and swung himself off, keeping hold of the
branch only with his tail and one hind foot. Then, stretching down
full length, he could just reach the branch below him. "You see,"
he explained, "if there was a nest on this branch down here, Ah
could get those eggs without any trouble. Ah wish there was a
nest. Just speaking of eggs makes mah mouth water." Again Unc'
Billy grinned and then pulled himself back to the other branch.

Old Mother Nature shook her head reprovingly. "Unc' Billy," said
she, "you are a bad old rascal to steal eggs. What's more, it
doesn't matter to you much whether you find eggs or young birds
in a nest. It is a wonder that between you and Chatterer the Red
Squirrel any of the birds succeed in raising families around
here. Have you visited Farmer Brown's hen house lately?"

Unc' Billy shook his head. "Not lately," said he; "Ah done got
a dreadful scare the last time Ah was up there, and Ah reckons
Ah'll stay away from there for a while."

What else do you eat?" asked Old Mother Nature.

"Anything," replied Unc' Billy. "Ah reckons Ah ain't no ways
particular--insects, roots, Frogs, Toads, small Snakes, Lizards,
berries, fruits, nuts, young Rats and Mice, corn, any old meat
that has been left lying around. Ah reckon Ah could find a meal
most any time most anywhere."

"Do you always have as big a family as you have there?" asked
Peter Rabbit.

"Not always," replied Unc' Billy. "But sometimes Mrs. Possum
has to tote around a still bigger family. We believe in chillun
and lots of them. We reckon on havin' two or three big families
every year."

"Where is your home?" asked Johnny Chuck. "I know," said Peter
Rabbit. "It's up in a big hollow tree."

Unc' Billy looked down at Peter. "'Tisn't at all necessary to
tell anybody where that hollow tree is, Bre'r Rabbit," said he.

"Are Possums found anywhere except around here?" inquired
Happy Jack.

"Yes, indeed," replied Old Mother Nature. "They are found all down
through the Sunny South, and in the warmer parts of the Middle West.
Unc' Billy and his relatives are not fond of cold weather. They
prefer to be where they can be reasonably warm all the year round.

"Some folks think Unc' Billy isn't smart, but those folks don't
know Unc' Billy. He learned a long time ago that he can't run as
fast as some others, so he has learned to depend on his wits in
time of danger. What do you think he does?"

"I know," cried Peter; "I saw him do it once. Farmer Brown's boy
surprised Unc' Billy, and Unc' Billy just fell right over dead."

"Pooh! That's a story, Peter Rabbit. How could Unc' Billy have
fallen over dead and be alive up in that tree this very minute?"
cried Happy Jack.

"I didn't mean he was really dead, but that he looked as if he
were dead," explained Peter. "And he did, too. He was the deadest
looking thing I ever saw. I thought he was dead myself. I was
watching from a bramble tangle where I was hiding, and I certainly
thought the life had been scared right out of Unc' Billy. I guess
Farmer Brown's boy thought so too. He picked Unc' Billy up by the
tail, and looked him all over, and said, 'You poor little thing. I
didn't mean to hurt you.' Unc' Billy didn't so much as wink an eye.
Farmer Brown's boy went off up the path carrying Unc' Billy by the
tail. By and by he laid Unc' Billy down on an old stump while he
went to look at a nest of Blacky the Crow. When he came back Unc'
Billy wasn't there. I never did see Unc' Billy hurry as he did
the minute Farmer Brown's boy's back was turned. He came to life
as suddenly as he had dropped dead."

"Very good, Peter," said Old Mother Nature. "Some other smart
little people try that trick sometimes, but none of them can do
it as well as Unc' Billy Possum. Pretending to be dead in order
to remain alive is the cleverest thing Unc' Billy does. Now how
about Lightfoot the Deer for the next lesson?"

"Splendid," cried all together and prepared to start for their homes.

CHAPTER XXXV Lightfoot, Blacktail and Forkhorn

Of all the people who live in the Green Forest none is more admired
than Lightfoot the Deer. So perhaps you can guess how delighted
every one was when, just as the morning lesson was to begin,
Lightfoot himself stepped daintily out from a thicket and bowed
to Old Mother Nature.

"I heard," said he, "that my little friends here are to learn
something about my family this morning, and thought you would not
mind if I joined them."

"I should say not!" exclaimed Peter Rabbit forgetting that Lightfoot
had spoken to Old Mother Nature.

All laughed, even Old Mother Nature. You see, Peter was so very
much in earnest, and at the same time so excited, that it really
was funny.

"Peter has spoken for all of us," said Old Mother Nature. "You
are more than welcome, Lightfoot. I had intended to send for you,
but it slipped my mind. I am delighted to have you here and I know
that the others are. I suspect you will be most comfortable if you
lie down, but before you do this I want everybody to have a good
look at you. Just stand for a few minutes in that little open
space where all can see you."

Lightfoot walked over to the open space where the sun fell full on
him and there he stood, a picture of grace and beauty with just
enough honest pride in his appearance to give him an air of noble
dignity. There was more than one little gasp of admiration among
his little neighbors.

"There," began Old Mother Nature, "is one of the most beautiful
of all my children, and the knowledge that he is beautiful does
not spoil him. Lightfoot belongs to the Deer family, as you all
know, and this in turn is in the order called Ungulata, which
means hoofed."

Peter Rabbit abruptly sat up, and his ears stood up like exclamation
points. "Farmer Brown's cows have those funny feet called hoofs;
are they related to Lightfoot?" he asked eagerly.

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