The Burgess Animal Book for Children

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

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"His food is much the same as that of Teeny Weeny--worms, insects,
flesh when he can get it, and seeds. He is fond of beechnuts. He
is quite equal to killing a Mouse of his own size or bigger and
does not hesitate to do so when he gets the chance. He makes a
soft, comfortable nest under a log or in a stump or in the ground
and has from four to six babies at a time. Teeny Weeny sometimes
has as many as ten. The senses of smell and hearing are very keen
and make up for the lack of sight. His eyes, like those of other
Shrews, are probably of use only in distinguishing light from
darkness. His coat is dark brownish-gray.

"Another of the Shrew family is the Marsh Shrew, also called Water
Shrew and Black-and white Shrew. He is longer than either of the
others and, as you have guessed, is a lover of water. He is a good
swimmer and gets much of his food in the water--water Beetles and
grubs and perhaps Tadpoles and Minnows. Now who among you knows
Miner the Mole?"

"I do. That is, I have seen him," replied Peter Rabbit.

"Very well, Peter, to-morrow morning we will see how much you know
about Miner," replied Old Mother Nature.

CHAPTER XX Four Busy Little Miners

Scampering along on his way to school and thinking of nothing so
uninteresting as watching his steps, Peter Rabbit stubbed his toes.
Yes, sir, Peter stubbed his toes. With a little exclamation of
impatience he turned to see what he had stumbled over. It was a
little ridge where the surface of the ground had been raised a
trifle since Peter had passed that way the day before.

Peter chuckled. "Now isn't that funny?" he demanded of no one at
all, for he was quite alone. Then he answered himself. "It
certainly is," said he. "Here I am on my way to learn something
about Miner the Mole, and I trip over one of the queer little
ridges he is forever making. It wasn't here yesterday, so that
means that he is at work right around here now. Hello, I
thought so!"

Peter had been looking along that little ridge and had discovered
that it ended only a short distance from him. Now as he looked at
it again, he saw the flat surface of the ground at the end of the
ridge rise as if being pushed up from beneath, and that little
ridge became just so much longer. Peter understood perfectly. Out
of sight beneath the surface Miner the Mole was at work. He was
digging a tunnel, and that ridge was simply the roof to that
tunnel. It was so near the surface of the ground that Miner simply
pushed up the loose soil as he bored his way along, and this made
the little ridge over which Peter had stumbled.

Peter watched a few minutes, then turned and scampered, lipperty-
lipperty-lip, for the Green Forest. He arrived at school quite out
of breath, the last one. Old Mother Nature was about to chide him
for being late, but noticing his excitement, she changed her mind.

"Well, Peter," said she. "What is it now? Did you have a narrow
escape on your way here?"

Peter shook his head. "No," he replied. "No, I didn't have a
narrow escape, but I discovered something."

Happy Jack Squirrel snickered. "Peter is always discovering
something," said he. "He is a great little discoverer. Probably
he has just found out that the only way to get anywhere on time
is to start soon enough."

"No such thing!" declared Peter indignantly. "You--"

"Never mind him, Peter," interrupted Old Mother Nature soothingly.
"What was it you discovered?"

"That the very one we are to learn about is only a little way from
here this very minute. Miner the Mole is at work on the Green
Meadow; close to the edge of the Green Forest," cried Peter eagerly.
"I thought perhaps you would want to-"

"Have this morning's lesson right there where we can at least see
his works if not himself," interrupted Old Mother Nature again.
"That is fine, Peter. We will go over there at once. It is always
better to see things than to merely hear about them."

So Peter led the way to where he had stumbled over that little
ridge on his way to school. It was longer than when he had left
it, but even as the others crowded about to look, the earth was
pushed up and it grew in length. Old Mother Nature stooped and
made a little hole in that ridge. Then she put her lips close to
it and commanded Miner to come out. She spoke softly, pleasantly,
but in a way that left no doubt that she expected to be obeyed.

She was. Almost at once a queer, long, sharp nose was poked out
of the little hole she had made, and a squeaky voice asked
fretfully, "Do I have to come way out?"

"You certainly do," replied Old Mother Nature. "I want some of
your friends and neighbors to get a good look at you, and they
certainly can't do that with only that sharp nose of yours to be
seen. Now scramble out here. No one will hurt you. I will keep
you only a few minutes. Then you can go back to your everlasting
digging. Out with you, now!"

While the others gathered in a little circle close about that hole
there scrambled into view one of the queerest little fellows in all
the Great World. Few of them had ever seen him close to before.
He was a stout little fellow with the softest, thickest, gray coat
imaginable. He was about six inches long and had a funny, short,
pinkish-white, naked tail that at once reminded Peter of an Angleworm.

His head seemed to be set directly on his shoulders, so that
there was no neck worth mentioning. His nose was long and sharp
and extended far beyond his mouth. Neither ears nor eyes were
to be seen.

Striped Chipmunk at once wanted to know how Miner could see. "He
doesn't see as you do," replied Old Mother Nature. "He has very
small eyes, tiny things, which you might find if you should part
the fur around them, but they are of use only to distinguish light
from darkness. Miner hasn't the least idea what any of you look
like. You see, he spends his life under ground and of course has
no use for eyes there. They would be a nuisance, for the dirt would
be continually getting in them if they were any larger than they
are or were not protected as they are. If you should feel of
Miner's nose you would find it hard. That is because he uses it
to bore with in the earth. Just notice those hands of his."

At once everybody looked at Miner's hands. No one ever had seen
such hands before. The arms were short but looked very strong.
The hands also were rather short, but what they lacked in length
they made up in width and they were armed with long, stout claws.
But the queer thing about them was the way he held them. He held
them turned out. His hind feet were not much different from the
hind feet of the Mouse family.

Miner was plainly uncomfortable. He wriggled about uneasily and
it was very clear that he was there only because Old Mother Nature
had commanded him to be there, and that the one thing he wanted
most was to get back into his beloved ground. Old Mother Nature
saw this and took pity on him. She picked him up and placed him
on the ground where there was no opening near.

"Now, Miner," said she, "your friends and neighbors have had a
good look at you, and I know just how uncomfortable you feel.
There is but one thing more I'll ask of you. It is that you will
show us how you can dig. Johnny Chuck thinks he is a pretty good
digger. Just show him what you can do in that line."

Miner didn't wait to be told twice. The instant Old Mother Nature
stopped speaking he began to push and bore into the earth with
his sharp nose. One of those great, spadelike hands was slipped
up past his face and the claws driven in beside his nose. Then it
was swept back and the loosened earth with it. The other hand was
used in the same way. It was quite plain to everybody why they
were turned out in the way they were. There was nothing slow about
the way Miner used that boring nose and those shoveling hands.
Peter Rabbit had hardly time for half a dozen long breaths before
Miner the Mole had disappeared.

"Some digging!" exclaimed Peter.

"Never again as long as I live will I boast of my digging," declared
Johnny Chuck admiringly. From the point where Miner had entered
the ground a little ridge was being pushed up, and they watched it
grow surprisingly fast as the little worker under the sod pushed
his tunnel along in the direction of his old tunnels. It was clear
that he was in a hurry to get back where he could work in peace.

"What a queer life," exclaimed Happy Jack Squirrel. "He can't
have much fun. I should think it would be awful living in the
dark that way all the time."

"You forget that he cannot see as you can, and so prefers the
dark," replied Old Mother Nature. "As for fun, he gets that in
his work. He is called Miner because he lives in the ground and
is always tunneling."

"What does he eat, the roots of plants?" asked Jumper the Hare.

Old Mother Nature shook her head. "A lot of people think that,"
said she, "and often Miner is charged with destroying growing
crops, eating seed corn, etc. That is because his tunnels are
found running along the rows of plants. The fact is Miner has
simply been hunting for grubs and worms around the roots of
those plants. He hasn't touched the plants at all. I suspect
that Danny Meadow Mouse or one of his cousins could explain who
ate the seed corn and the young plants. They are rather fond of
using Miner's tunnels when he isn't about."

Danny hung his head and looked guilty, but didn't say anything.
"The only harm Miner does is sometimes to tunnel so close to
garden plants that he lets air in around the tender roots and they
dry out," continued Old Mother Nature. "His food consists almost
wholly of worms, grubs and insects, and he has to have a great many
to keep him alive. That is why he is so active. Those tunnels of
his which seem to be without any plan are made in his search for
food. He is especially fond of Angleworms.

"As a matter of fact, he is a useful little fellow. The only
time he becomes a nuisance to man is when he makes his little
ridges across smooth lawns. Even then he pays for the trouble by
destroying the grubs in the grass roots, grubs that in their turn
would destroy the grass. When you see his ridges you may know that
his food is close to the surface. When in dry or cold weather the
worms go deep in the ground, Miner follows and then there is no
trace of his tunnels on the surface.

"Night and day are all the same to him. He works and sleeps when
he chooses. In winter he tunnels below the frost line. You all
noticed how dense his fur is. That is so the sand cannot work
down in it. His home is a snug nest of grass or leaves in a
little chamber under the ground in which several tunnels offer
easy means of escape in case of sudden danger."

"Has Miner any near relatives?" asked Peter Rabbit.

"Several," replied Old Mother Nature. "All are much alike in
habits. One who lives a little farther north is called Brewer's
Mole or the Hairytailed Mole. His tail is a little longer than
Miner's and is covered with fine hair. The largest and handsomest
member of the family is the Oregon Mole of the Northwest. His
coat is very dark and his fur extremely fine. His ways are much
the same as those of Miner whom you have just met, excepting that
when he is tunneling deep in the ground he pushes the earth to the
surface after the manner of Grubby Gopher, and his mounds become
a nuisance to farmers. When he is tunneling just under the surface
he makes ridges exactly like these of his eastern cousin.

"But the oddest member of the Mole family is the Star-nosed Mole.
He looks much like Miner with the exception of his nose and tail.
His nose has a fringe of little fleshy points, twenty-two of them,
like a many-pointed star. From this he gets his name. His tail
is a little longer than Miner's and is hairy. During the late
fall and winter this becomes much enlarged.

"This funny little fellow with the star-like nose is especially
fond of moist places, swamps, damp meadows, and the banks of
streams. He is not at all afraid of the water and is a good
swimmer. Sometimes he may be seen swimming under the ice in
winter. He is seldom found where the earth is dry. For that
matter, none of the family are found in those sections where
there are long, dry periods and the earth becomes baked and hard.

"The fur of Miner and his cousins will lay in either direction,
which keeps it smooth no matter whether the wearer is going
forward or backward. Otherwise it would be badly mussed up most
of the time. Altogether these little underground workers are
most interesting little people when you know them. But that
is something few people have a chance to do.

"Now just remember that the Shrews and the Moles belong to the
order of Insectivora, meaning eaters of insects, and are the only
two families in that order. And don't despise either of them, for
they do a great deal of good in the Great World, more than some
right here whom I might name, but will not. School is dismissed."

CHAPTER XXI Flitter the Bat and His Family

In the dusk of early evening, as Peter Rabbit sat trying to make
up his mind whether to spend that night at home in the dear Old
Briar-patch with timid little Mrs. Peter or go over to the Green
Forest in search of adventure, a very fine, squeaky voice which
came right out of the air above him startled him for a moment.

"Better stay at home, Peter Rabbit. Better stay at home to-night,"
said the thin, squeaky voice.

"Hello, Flitter!" exclaimed Peter, as he stared up at a little
dark form darting this way, twisting that way, now up, now down,
almost brushing Peter's head and then flying so high he could
hardly be seen. "Why should I stay at home?"

"Because I saw Old Man Coyote sneaking along the edge of the Green
Forest, Reddy Fox is hunting on the Green Meadows, and Hooty the
Owl is on watch in the Old Orchard," replied Flitter the Red Bat.
"Of course it is no business of mine what you do, Peter Rabbit, but
were I in your place I certainly would stay at home. Gracious!
I'm glad I can go where I please when I please. You ought to fly,
Peter. You ought to fly. There is nothing like it."

"I wish I could," sighed Peter.

"Well, don't say I didn't warn you," squeaked Flitter, and darted
away in the direction of Farmer Brown's house. Peter wisely
decided that the dear Old Briar-patch was the best place for him
that night, so he remained at home, to the joy of timid little
Mrs. Peter, and spent the night eating, dozing and wondering how
it would seem to be able to fly like Flitter the Bat.

Flitter was still in his mind when he started for school the next
morning, and by the time he got there he was bubbling over with
curiosity and questions. He could hardly wait for school to be
called to order. Old Mother Nature noticed how fidgety he was.

"What have you on your mind, Peter?" she asked.

"Didn't you tell us that the Shrew family and the Mole family are
the only families in this country in the order of insect-eaters?"
asked Peter.

"I certainly did," was the prompt reply. "Doesn't Flitter the Bat
live on insects?" asked Peter.

Old Mother Nature nodded. "He does," said she. "In fact he lives
altogether on insects."

"Then why isn't he a member of that order?" demanded Peter.

Old Mother Nature smiled, for she was pleased that Peter had thought
of this. "That question does you credit, Peter," said she. "The
reason is that he and his relatives are so very different from other
animals that they have been placed in an order of their own. It is
called the Chi-rop-ter-a, which means wing-handed. How many of you
know Flitter the Bat?"

"I've often seen him," declared Jumper the Hare.

"So have I," said Chatterer the Red Squirrel. Each of the others
said the same thing. There wasn't one who hadn't watched and
envied Flitter darting about in the air just at dusk of early
evening or as the Black Shadows were stealing away in the early
morning. Old Mother Nature smiled.

"Seeing him isn't knowing him," said she. "Who is there who knows
anything about him and his ways save that he flies at night and
catches insects in the air?"

She waited a minute or two, but no one spoke. The fact is there
was not one who really knew anything about Flitter. "It is one of
the strange things of life," said she, "that people often know
nothing about the neighbors whom they see every day. But in this
case it is not to be wondered at. I suspect none of you has seen
Flitter, excepting in the air, and then he moves so rapidly that
there is no chance to get a good look at him. I think this is
just the time and place for you to really make the acquaintance
of Flitter the Red Bat."

She stepped over to a bush and parted the leaves. Hanging from
a twig was what appeared at first glance to be a rumpled, reddish-
brown dead leaf. She touched it lightly. At once it came to life,
stirring uneasily. A thin, squeaky voice peevishly demanded to
know what was wanted.

"You have some callers, a few of your friends who want to get
really acquainted with you. Suppose you wake up for a few minutes,"
explained Old Mother Nature pleasantly.

Flitter, for that is just who it was, yawned once or twice sleepily,
shook himself, then grinned down at the wondering faces of his
friends crowded about just under him. "Hello, folks," said he in
that thin, squeaky voice of his.

The sunlight fell full on him, but he seemed not to mind it in the
least. In fact, he appeared to enjoy its warmth. He was hanging
by his toes, head down, his wings folded. He was about four inches
long, and his body was much like that of a Mouse. His fur was
fine and thick, a beautiful orange-red. For his size his ears were
large. Instead of the long head and sharp nose of the Mouse family,
Flitter had a rather round head and blunt nose. Almost at once Peter
Rabbit made a discovery. It was that Flitter possessed a pair of
bright, little, snapping eyes and didn't seem in the least bothered
by the bright light.

"Where did that saying 'blind as a Bat' ever come from?"
demanded Peter.

Old Mother Nature laughed. "Goodness knows; I don't," said she.
"There is nothing blind about Flitter. He sleeps through the
day and does his hunting in the dusk of evening or early morning,
but if he is disturbed and has to fly during the day, he has no
trouble in seeing. Flitter, stretch out one of your wings so
that everybody can see it."

Obediently Flitter stretched out one of his wings. Everybody
gasped, for it was the first time any of them ever had seen one
of those wings near enough to know just what it was like.
Flitter's arm was long, especially from his elbow to his hand.
But the surprising thing was the length of his three fingers.
Each finger appeared to be about as long as the whole arm. From
his shoulder a thin, rubbery skin was stretched to the ends of
the long fingers, then across to the ankle of his hind foot on
that side, and from there across to the tip of his tail. A
little short thumb with a long, curved claw stuck up free from
the edge of the wing.

"Now you can see just why he is called winghanded," explained Old
Mother Nature, as Flitter folded the wing. In a minute he began
to clean it. Everybody laughed, for it was funny to watch him.
He would take the skin of the wing in his mouth and pull and stretch
it as if it were rubber. He washed it with his tiny tongue. Then
he washed his fur. You see, Flitter is very neat. With the little
claw of his thumb he scratched his head and combed his hair. All
the time he remained hanging head down, clinging to the twig with
his toes.

"Where is Mrs. Flitter?" asked Old Mother Nature.

"Don't know," replied Flitter, beginning on the other wing. "She's
quite equal to looking after herself, so I don't worry about her."

"Nor about your babies. Flitter, I'm ashamed of you. You are a
poor kind of father," declared Old Mother Nature severely. "If
you don't know where to find your family, I'll show you."

She stepped over to the very next tree, parted the leaves, and
there, sure enough, hung Mrs. Flitter fast asleep. And clinging
to her were three of the funniest babies in all the Great World!
All were asleep, and Old Mother Nature didn't awaken them. As for
Flitter, he seemed to take not the slightest interest in his
family, but went right on with his toilet.

"Flitter the Red Bat is one of the best known of the whole family
in this country," said Old Mother Nature, as they left Flitter to
resume his nap. He is found from the East to the Far West, from
ocean to ocean. Like the birds, he migrates when cold weather
comes, returning in the early summer. Although, like all Bats,
he sleeps all day as a rule, he doesn't mind the sunlight, as you
have just seen for yourselves. Sometimes on dull, dark days he
doesn't wait for evening, but flies in the afternoon. Usually he
is the first of the Bat family to appear in the evening, often coming
out while it is still light enough to show the color of his red coat.
No other member of his family has a coat of this color.

"Some people call him the Tree Bat. After seeing him hanging over
there I think you can guess why. He rarely goes to a cave for his
daytime sleep, as most of his relatives do, but hangs by his toes
from a twig of a tree or bush, frequently not far from the ground,
just as he is right now.

"As all of you who have watched him know, Flitter is a swift flier.
This is because his wings are long and narrow. They are made for
speed. I want you to know that the Bats are among the most
wonderful of all my little people. Few if any birds can equal them
in the air because of their wonderful ability to twist and turn.
They are masters of the art of flying. Moreover, they make no
sound with their wings, something which only the Owls among birds
can boast of.

"You all saw the three babies clinging to Mrs. Flitter. Most Bats
have but two babies at a time, occasionally only one, but the Red
Bat and his larger cousin, the Hoary Bat, have three or four. Mrs.
Flitter carries her babies about with her until they are quite big.
When they are too large to be carried she leaves them hanging in a
tree while she hunts for her meals.

"Flitter has many cousins. One of these is the Little Brown Bat,
one of the smallest members of the family and found all over the
country. He is brown all over. He is sometimes called the Cave
Bat, because whenever a cave is to be found he sleeps there.
Sometimes great numbers of these little Bats are found crowded
together in a big cave. When there is no cave handy, a barn or
hollow tree is used. Often he will creep behind the closed
blinds of a house to spend the day.

"Very like this little fellow in color is his cousin the Big Brown
Bat, called the House Bat and the Carolina Bat. He is especially
fond of the homes of men. He is a little bigger than the Red Bat.
While the latter is one of the first Bats to appear in the evening,
the former is one of the last, coming out only when it is quite
dark. He also found all over the country.

"The Silvery Bat is of nearly the same size and in many places is
more common than any its cousins. The fur is dark brown or black
with white tips, especially in the young. From this it gets its
name. One of the largest and handsomest of the Bat cousins, and
one of the rarest is the Hoary Bat. His fur is a mixture of dark
and light brown tipped with white. He is very handsome. His
wings are very long and narrow and he is one of the most wonderful
of all fliers. He is a lover of the Green Forest and does his
hunting high above the tree-tops, making his appearance late in
the evening. Like the Red Bat he spends the hours of daylight
hanging in a tree.

"Down in the Southeast is a member of the family with ears so big
that he is called the Big-eared Bat. He is a little chap, smaller
than Little Brown Bat, and his ears are half as long his head and
body together. What do you think of that? For his size he has
the biggest ears of any animal in all this great country. A
relative in the Southwest is the Big-eared Bat.

"All members of the Bat family are drinkers and usually the first
thing they do when they start out at dusk is to seek water. All
live wholly on insects, and for this reason they are among the very
best friends of man. They eat great numbers of Mosquitoes. They do
no harm whatever, which is more than can be said for some of the
rest of you little folks. Now who shall we learn about next?"

CHAPTER XXII An Independent Family

Just as Old Mother Nature asked who they should learn about next,
Happy Jack Squirrel spied some one coming down the Lone Little
Path. "See who's coming!" cried Happy Jack.

Everybody turned to look down the Lone Little Path. There, ambling
along in the most matter-of-fact and unconcerned way imaginable, came
a certain small person who was dressed wholly in black and white.

"Hello, Jimmy Skunk," cried Chatterer the Red Squirrel. "What are
you doing over here in the Green Forest?" Jimmy Skunk looked up
and grinned. It was a slow, good-natured grin. "Hello, everybody,"
said he. "I thought I would just amble over here and see your school.
I suppose all you fellows are getting so wise that pretty soon you
will think you know all there is to know. Have any of you seen any
fat Beetles around here?"

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