The little foresters: a story of field and woods

Contents

Chapter Page

I. Grandma's Winter Visitors . . 1

II. The Trysting Tree '. 10

Chapter II. The Trysting Tree

The try sting tree was an ancient oak, standing in the centre of the forest, where the friendly birds, squirrels, and smaller creatures of the woods were in the habit of meeting each day. These meetings were held at about sunrise and sunset, to gossip and talk over the happenings of the day before, or relate the adventures of the night that had just passed, for living as they do in a world that is hostile to them, where they have the snares of larger animals and birds, as well as those of man, to avoid, it is not strange that many a thrilling adventure was related under the old trysting tree to an expectant group, each one of whom was silently thankful that it had not been he.

Of the company that met at the oak I best remember the following :

There was Mnirod, the crow, as black as a coal, who always sat in a watchful attitude upon the topmost bough of the oak, balancing himself nicely, and looking in every direction at once.

He was the sentinel, and his vigilance delivered the little people from many a danger. Ximrod was a natural sentinel, for his croaking made him none the less watchful, and he could carry on a flirtation with a saucy jay, winking; and blinking with one of his bright eyes, while he scanned the landscape with the other. But there was not very much to fear at this time of day ; the only enemy who would be likely to be about was Sparrowhawk, whose coming and going no one could account for. He was hated and feared by all the birds, as well as by the squirrels, for he not only killed to satisfy his hunger, but also for malice. He took a particular delight in robbing birds' nests, eating the eggs, and killing the young birds. So that all the birds were very careful, when building their nests, that Sparrowhawk was not around.

Of the animals, cats, weasels, and foxes were the most to be feared, and it took the combined vigilance of all to scent these dangers.

It was very strange, though, how quickly these little folks of the woods would completely disappear at a sound of warning from any one of their number, No matter how merrily they had been chattering away a minute before, at the warning note the woods would suddenly become as still as death. Mmrod would "rise high in air and fly away, Ruff-grouse would follow his lead on silent wings, while the jays and the squirrels would hide in the treetop. The chipmunk would slip into his hole at the foot of the tree, and the rabbit would squat under a bush, and being just the color of the ground, it took the sharpest eyes to discover him ; while Frisk and Frolic and their cousin Redder had a way of hiding that baffled all inquiry.

Each of these little creatures is possessed of an instinct that tells him just what is the best thing to do in time of danger, else how could they exist in a world in which they have so many enemies.

The great sun that always brings so much gladness into the world was just mounting up over the eastern hills. His warm beams, falling upon the treetops, made bright patches of sunlight in the aisles of the sweet, green woods. Although the sun was very early in his coming, he was not ahead of the little people of the woods, who are very. thrifty and up betimes. For more than half an hour they had been stirring, and by the time he was quarter of an hour high they had all breakfasted and were ready for the morning meeting at the try sting tree.

The squirrels had been away to a distant orchard for sweet apples ; the birds had found their usual number of worms and bugs by the roadside or in the mould beneath dead leaves and ferns, while Bob, the cotton-tail, had made a fine breakfast of birch twigs and wintero-reen leaves, of which he was very fond.

Mmrod, who had made his meal from the cornfield, and had afterwards taken a bath at the brook, was as usual the first to arrive at the tree. He at once proceeded to call the others with a series of loud "caws," for which he was famous. Then there was such a pattering of small feet, for the squirrels came running in the treetops and the rabbits on the ground, each chattering and scolding away in his own language, all of which was understood bv each member of this great family.

The last to arrive at the trysting tree was Chucky, who was so fat that he could scarcely waddle, and for that reason was usually late. "Hello, Chucky, hello," cried all the little folks in chorus, for Chucky was quite a favorite with them, and he amused them with his clumsy ways.

"Well, Chucky, how are beans?" asked Nimrod, when the fat, lazy woodchuck had seated himself at the foot of the tree and Nimrod had declared the meeting open for discussion.

"Firstrate, Nim, firstrate," replied Chucky, with a grunt of deep satisfaction ; " the only trouble is I have eaten so many that I can hardly walk."

n You are getting pretty free with the farmer's beans, and I am afraid he will get after you again, one of these fine mornings, with his thunder stick," said the crow. " That was a very close shave that you had the other morning, and if I had n't happened along he would have got you then."

" Tell us about it, Nimrod, tell us about it ! " cried all the Little Foresters.

r? Well," said the old crow, straightening himself with dignity, " it is n't very much of a story, but I do think that it adds another feather to the glory of the crow family. It was this way :

" Chucky was down in the bean-patch getting his breakfast and I was sitting upon the top of the old maple in the mowing, when I happened to see the farmer coming down the road with the thunderstick over his arm.

" ? Whom is he after now ? ' I thought to myself, and then I looked down to the bean-patch and saw Chucky, and the meaning of the farmer's early walk was plain.

K How could I warn poor Chucky, that was the question. I knew that he was such a stupid fellow that he would not see or scent danger, and it looked very much as though his hide would be drying on the barn in another hour." At this point Nimrod looked seriously down at Chucky, whose hair stood up at the thought.

r? Well," continued the crow, " if I was to fly down and tell him, I would get in range myself and be peppered for my pains. You people all know I do not like to have my feathers ruffled with big shot. Fortunately I thought of that member of our family who dropped the stones into the pitcher and raised the water until he could drink, so I set my wits to work.

w Then I had a bright idea. I flopped down to the ground and picked up a big pebble ; then I rose high in the air and went sailing over the place where Chucky was eating beans. I knew I was out of reach of the thunderstick, and so I was not afraid. When I got just above Chucky I dropped the stone. He at once raised up on his hind legs to see what had disturbed him and saw the farmer and started for his hole. ? Bang ! whang ! * went the thunderstick, but Chucky was so far away that it did no harm, and I tell you it didn't take him very long to get into his hole."

Chucky felt very much like a hero when Nimrod had finished his story, and he grinned broadly, while the Little Foresters crowded round to tell him they were glad the farmer did n't get him.

" Oh, well," said Chucky, in his easy-going way, " I guess " — but what he would have said we do not know, for at a warning note from Mmrod there was a whirring of wings and a patter of small feet, but none too soon, for with a scream a large hawk swooped into the top of the tree after his own morning breakfast which he was late in setting.

The smaller birds and the squirrels fled away into the thickest treetops, and" of a sudden the forest became as still as death. Chatterbox, the red squirrel, was not three feet away in a hole in the tree, but Kedtail did not see him, and he could not have got him if he had, a fact the squirrel well knew, but he kept very still nevertheless. Eedtail glared savagely about him. The tree had been so full of fur and feathers a few moments ago, and where had it all gone ?

Then he caught sight of Bob, the rabbit, squatting under a bunch of brakes, and darted down at him, and then a race began which would have been very comical had it not been a matter of life and death to one poor cottontail.

Bob sprang from point to point, keeping in the underbrush all of the time and dodging- ]ik e a bounding ball. Again and again the great bird swooped for him and opened his terrible talons, and poor Bob barely escaped. Once he even got a claw full of the rabbit's fuzzy fur, and left a bad wound upon his back, but Bob did not care for wounds as long as his good, long legs were left with which to double and twist.

Then Mmrod came to Bob's assistance. He darted at the hawk and pecked at him savagely, and all of the time he kept up a most deafening cawing, partly to distract the hawk, and

BOB SPRANG FROM POINT TO POINT.

partly to call his friends whom he knew were not for distant.

Then Bob made a desperate spurt through an open place where he barely escaped from the talons of the hawk, and dove under a tangle of deep brambles and vines and was safe.

" Caw, caw," cried Ximrod, derisively, "caw, caw." The hawk clenched his talons in fury and screamed back at Nimrod, and was about to fly at the brave crow, when he noticed several of Mmrod's friends coming through the woods, so he beat a hasty retreat and was soon lost in the distance.

Bob then came out of the bramble and thanked Nimrod for the service that he had done him, and then scampered away to the swamp where he lived, feeling that he had had excitement enough for one day, and thanking good fortune that he had escaped.

Chapter III. A Life Of Fear

It is hard for us human beings, who live under the protection of the State and its laws, to realize the constant fear in which the Little People of the Forest live.

No act of their lives, from the first days of responsibility to that of their violent death (for these wild creatures rarely die of old age) but is done guardedly.

The very first law that the wild creature is taught is that of self-preservation ; in fact, his whole life resolves itself into the problem of just living and keeping clear of all his enemies.

Watch a woodchuck as he gets his breakfast upon the young clover, and see with what caution the meal proceeds. He nibbles away at the tender heads for a few moments, and then rears cautiously upon his haunches and

A LIFE OF FEAR. 21

looks about in all directions. He also sniffs the air suspiciously from the windward side, and takes even more care in the opposite direction.

What need has he to be so cautious, you may ask. His pelt is worthless, and he cannot eat a dollar's worth of clover in a year.

Well, in the first place there is a long gun that hangs in the kitchen over the fireplace up at the farmhouse. Chucky has often heard it roar on a summer's morning, and he carries many a small pellet in his tough hide that came from its grim barrel. It is only because the gun is old and rusty that Chucky is alive at all to whistle his defiance to the clumsy hunter.

Then there is Grip, the farm dog. He and Chucky have been sworn enemies ever since that day when Grip tried to pull the woodchuck from the wall and ^ot a savage bite in the nose for his pains. Grip was a puppy then, or that bite would have been Ckucky's last.

Besides the farmer and the dog, there is sly Lord Eeynard, who wishes to catch Chucky alive and cany him home to his den for the young foxes to torment and finally tear to bits.

Occasionally he finds the dirt in the mouth of his hole disturbed, and then he knows a trap is buried there, and if he steps upon the loose dirt that he will be caught, so he uses the back door or seeks another hole until the trap is removed.

One of these summer mornings, when he is sleeping peacefully in his snug hole, a turtle, scorching and smelling hideously, will come scurrying in, trying vainly to get away from the burning cotton tied to the back part of his shell. This is a great peril for Chucky, — even if he is not suffocated by smoke, there is danger that his nest, which is lined with hay and leaves, will be set afire, and he be obliged to run straight into the open mouth of Grip, or if he escapes the dog there are eager boys ready to give chase with clubs, and poor Chucky with his short legs and fat body has small chance in such a match.

But Chucky is no more in danger than the other Little Foresters ; in fact, he is full as safe

A LIFE OF FEAR. 23

as any of them, and is supposed to live a luxurious life, free from care and in the midst of plenty.

Whistle at the rabbit who is hopping peacefully along the woodland path, and see with what a startled air he rears upon his hind legs to listen. His ears are erect, his eyes large with fright, and his nostrils distended to catch the scent ; turning this way and that he tries to look in all directions at once, and when he does at last catch the scent, — that these little creatures fear above all others,— how he scurries away upon those nimble legs in which alone is safety !

Although he flees along the pathway like an arrow, yet he goes with caution. At the slightest sound he will squat under a bush and keep so still that even the eye of a woodsman is often deceived. The rabbit, by a kind provision of nature, is always the color of the earth, so in the autumn he is brown like the fallen leaves, but in winter he is white as snow.

M Who are the rabbits' enemies ? " I hear the young reader ask.

Well, the domestic cat is crouching by the pathway just ahead of him waiting his coming. Redtail, the hawk, so far up in the sky that he is almost invisible to the eye of man, is watching poor Bob, and if he gets out in the open he is down upon him. Grip, the farm dog, loves to give him a chase when he gets a chance. There is not much danger from Grip, who is not very sure on the scent or fleet of foot, but there is danger when fleeing from the dog that the cotton-tail will run into a snare, or be taken unawares by some other enemy.

At night when he goes to sleep in his hole or a hollow tree, he knows not how soon the ferret may disturb him, and fleeing from this danger he will run into an open bag at the mouth of his hole. It matters not that it is against the law to hunt him with a ferret, for no one is by to see but the pale moon and the soft stars, when he is taken from the bag and his neck broken, and they tell no tales.

Chapter IV. The Galloping Hessian

The Galloping Hessian was a red-crested woodpecker who lived for a long time in our orchard, and in whom I came to take a lively interest.

You may wonder a little at the name I gave him, but it was one that pleased my childish fancy, and when I have explained its true significance I am sure that you will agree with me in thinking it most appropriate.

Now all of the members of the woodpecker family, not only the red-crested woodpecker, but also his cousin, partridge woodpecker, and their more stylish cousin, the pilliated woodpecker, have a peculiar motion in flying that gives the impression of a galloping horse. When they first spring from the tree to fly, they drop down fifteen or twenty feet, but quickly rise to about the height from which they started and then across the fields they go, rising and falling in their flight, for all the world like a galloping horse. So upon a bright spring morning, when the sunbeams played upon his brilliant red crest, and set off his shiny black coat to good advantage, it was very easy to imagine that my woodpecker was a galloping Hessian.

The first I ever saw of him was one warm April morning when I heard a great whacking out in the orchard, and I went to see w T hat it was all about.

I soon discovered that the pounding came from an old apple-tree, and creeping cautiously along, I got a fine look at him before he saw me.

He was standing upon a decayed limb from which the bark had been peeled by wind and weather, whacking away at it like the merry little woodchopper that he is.

With his sharp claws dug into the wood, he stood bracing himself with his tail, which was spread out fan-shaped. This gave him a good purchase so that he could ply his short, sharp

THE GALLOPING HESSIAN 27

bill with terrible strokes. The chips came down in showers, and the sharp rat-a-tat-tat of his blows rang out upon the morning air with a great noise. So fast he struck that the eye could not follow the motion of his head, which seemed all the time to be in one place, while the blows were so near together that it sounded like the long roll upon a drum, done by a very skilful drummer boy.

Why was he working away so frantically, I wondered ; but even while I asked myself the question, came the answer. For he stopped whacking and began examining the wood curiously, cocking his head first upon one side and then on the other. Then he gave two or three sharp whacks, and thrusting his bill deep into the wood drew out a fat worm which he ate with great relish.

He had been after his breakfast. Who would have imagined that a bird would find his breakfast in a dry, dead limb, and how did he know that the worm was there? Why did he try the tree where it was dead ? While I was still trying to solve the mystery, he flew away and

I saw him no more that day, nor for several days.

But after a few days he came back and I saw him frequently at the old apple-tree ; we could even hear his merry rat-a-tat-tat from the house when he was getting his breakfast or supper.

" Whack, whack, ping, ping, Other birds may chirp or sing ; But my one song is the merry stroke With which I pierce the elm or oak ; Away with chirping and with singing, While I set the echoes ringing."

This was what the Galloping Hessian always seemed to be saying when he perched upon a dry limb and plied his short, strong bill.

But more was going on in the old apple-tree than I dreamed of these spring days, for it must be a hungry bird indeed that would chop away for half a day at a time, although I did not stop to consider the fact.

About a month after the first appearance of my little friend in the old apple-tree I saw him come flying, galloping as usual, across the fields and light upon this particular tree. J

THE GALLOPING HESSIAN. 29

looked again, but he was not there. I was wondering where he could have disappeared to, when of a sudden he appeared upon the dead limb, and even while I watched him he disappeared in the most peculiar manner. My astonishment was still greater when I discovered his head sticking out of a hole in the tree a few feet further up and his bright eyes seemed to be watching me.

He had made him a house in the old apple-tree and come to live with us all the summer through.

The next day I climbed up to investigate. It was a very tall apple-tree and my hair stood up as I looked down to the ground.

There, just under the dead limb, the Galloping Hessian had built himself and Mrs. Hessian the cutest house that you ever saw, proof against both the wind and rain, and almost anything that crawls, creeps, or flies. He had chopped a round hole about three inches in diameter in towards the centre of the tree for three or four inches, then it suddenly ran straight down for six inches more, and there at the bottom was the nest made of hair and bits of fuzz, very neat and comfortable

One morning early in May, when the apple-blossoms were sweet upon the half-leaved trees, and the air seemed mild and warm, there came up a terrible wind-storm accompanied by hail and lightning. The sky grew suddenly dark, the wind howled frightfully, and the hailstones fell like bullets. The thunder rolled in one continuous cannonade, and the lightning was so bright that I dared not look out of the window, but hid in the further corner of the room.

Just before the storm came up I had seen Mr. and Mrs. Hessian flying home to their snug house. Something in the air or the sky had told them that it was coming. But the storm departed with the same haste that it had shown in coming, and the sun was soon shining brightly, as though it had never gone under the clouds.

Then, full of boyish curiosity as to what had been doing outside, I went out-of-doors. Finally my wanderings led me to the old orchard, and then it was a natural thing to go to the

THE GALLOPING HESSIAN. 31

ancient apple-tree, for it was one of my favorite trees.

I could hardly believe my eyes when I beheld it stretched upon the ground with many of its rotten limbs broken in the fall ; but my first thought was of the Galloping Hessian and his wife. I soon discovered them galloping wildly about the orchard, now lighting upon this tree and now that, and never staying long in a place, and always returning to their ruined home.

I clambered into the top of the tree in search of the woodpeckers' nest. Just at the point where they had pierced the tree it had split in falling, and there upon the ground was the carefully shaped nest, with the broken eggs near by. No happening of after years has left a deeper impression upon my mind than has this tragedy of the Galloping Hessian. His home had seemed so secure from all danger, and here, in the twinkling of an eye, the whole fabric had fallen to earth, his dream and mine alike had vanished.

While I sat upon the trunk of the fallen tree, the woodpeckers galloped about the orchard for the last time as though it was hard to leave ; they hovered a moment over the remains of their home, then galloped away over the fields, and were soon lost to sight. I stood up that I might see them as long as possible, but finally the rhythmic rise and fall of the red crests was lost to sight, and they were gone never to return to the scene of their sorrow.

I wept bitter tears in the empty nest, and tried vainly to piece the broken eggs together, but the dream was ended and I had awakened to one of the stern realities of nature.

CHAPTER V. chucky's last breakfast.

It was a warm summer morning early in July, and the pale white streak that denotes the coming of daylight was just growing in the East. The sun would not be up for half an hour, but the birds and the squirrels were already stirring, for these little folks are very enterprising, and many of them are through breakfast when the sun comes up.

Chucky was asleep down in his hole, dreaming of sweet clover and tender new beans. It was cool and pleasant underground during these hot days, and that was why he ate breakfast very early in the morning and supper late in the evening, for he was a lazy fellow, and hated to bestir himself when it was hot.

Presently he woke up, and although his nest was several feet under ground and very dark, something told him that it was beginning to be light. There is a way animals have of telling certain things that they cannot hear, see, or smell. Birds and animals can foretell the coming of great storms or earthquakes, and man is often warned by them.

When the miners who are digging deep down in the earth see the rats all leaving the mine, they hurry to get above the ground, for they know there is soon to be a terrible cave-in or explosion, and that the rats have scented danger. We call this instinct, but it seems like a higher intelligence that we do not possess. If any of Chucky's friends had asked him " how he knew it was day when he could not see the light," he would have grunted and said, " he just knew and that was all."

Chucky stretched himself, rolled about in his hole, to get the cramps out of his joints, and thoroughly wake himself. What a fat, sleepy woodchuck he was getting to be ! How he enjoyed this living in the clover, fattening himself at the farmer's expense ! As he thought of the fine row of beans he had stripped the

'CAW, CAW," CRIED NlMROD.

CHUCKY' S LAST BREAKFAST. 35

morning before for breakfast, he grinned and chuckled.

How lucky he was to have discovered this deserted hole two years before, and then to have grown up in such luxury as this ! He would stay here and eat beans and clover, and occasionally a turnip, as long as he lived.

With these pleasant thoughts Chucky stretched himself again and then crawled lazily out of his hole. The sun still wanted fifteen minutes of being up, and the air was deliciously fragrant. Chucky sniffed it with keen enjoyment. First on the windward side and then in the opposite direction. It was more difficult to discover a foe w T hen the wind was blowing his scent away from you, but finally he decided that the coast was clear and started gayly for the bean patch.

"Caw, caw," cried Nimrod, from far above him. " It is a fine morning. I am going down to the river for a plunge, you had better come along and wash your greasy face."

" Good luck to you," replied Chucky, with a shrill whistle that rang out loud and clear on the morning air. "I prefer beans to brooks."

Chucky could hear Cock-robin singing in the big maple by the road, where he had built his nest this year. How pleasant the song he was singing ! It must be fine to sing like that for one's self whenever one wanted. Then for a vain moment Chucky wished that he was a bird, and could sing, but only for a moment.

" Wheh-h-h-h," he cried with a long-drawn whistle. " I would much rather be a woodchuck, then one can have a hole to go into when he is frightened," and he trudged on after his breakfast. But he did wash his face some as he went, for the grass was soaking wet with dew. It was great fun to bring down showers of these bright drops, and smell the fragrance of the flowers as he stirred them.

Soon he arrived at the bean patch, and began his meal with all the zest of a boy who had done the chores and driven the cattle to pasture before breakfast.

Chucky's teeth were sharp, and the pods of the new string beans were very tender, and the

CHUCKY'S LAST BREAKFAST. 37

way he stripped the hills did him credit as a hungry woodchuck. Far away by the brook he could hear Nimrod's lusty " caw, caw," and at the same time there was the tinkle of a cow bell up the road. The sun had now risen in all his glory, and his coming had been heralded by the Little Foresters, with song and chatter ; the locust, too, was singing in the grass ; it would be a warm day, when he sang so early.