  The moon was shedding its silvery light in checkerboard patches under the high oaks on the Ridge. In the fields below hung a heavy mist, and everywhere was the glitter of wet leaves, for a thunder storm had only recently passed. All the woodsfolk were out playing or feeding, while the insects drummed and sang their loudest, since the moisture had refreshed the whole woods world. Under one of the oaks sat Red Ben. This new feel of the air and ground, after many hot, dry days and nights, had awakened in him too a longing to play or rather, perhaps, a longing to have someone to play with. Three miserable, lonely days had passed since he lost his mother, three nights of watching and waiting and hoping for her return. Now he could find nothing better to do than watch the other creatures enjoying themselves in the moonlight. Already a few acorns were sweet enough to be eaten by the little animals that gnaw, and already the hunters, knowing this, were wandering from tree to tree searching for any little nut eater that was unwary enough to be caught. So still was Red Ben that the others scarcely noticed him. One tiny shrew mouse after another went skipping by, in their search for insects; sometimes one would burrow swiftly under the leaves and come out at quite another spot. Restless little creatures they were, with long noses and eyes so small they could scarcely be seen. The Mole If they had flat front feet like those of the mole, and were not the tiniest little furry creatures in the woods, they would often be taken for moles. Their fur is almost the same. The mole, living entirely in his narrow burrows under the ground, has no need for eyes and so has lost the use of those nature first gave him; the shrew, living partly above the ground but mostly in burrows, needs to see a little, and so has very small eyes; the active deer mouse which scorns burrowing and usually lives in hollow trees like the squirrels, needs sharp eyes and so has immense ones. To protect his big eyes from twigs and briars in the dark, Deer Mouse has a regular fence of whiskers, while Shrew’s little eyes only need a few small whiskers and old Mole needs no whiskers at all. Deer Mouse Shrew In his habit of running around in the woods at night, Red Ben was very much like Deer Mouse, and so had many long whiskers. Some stuck up from each side of his nose and curved over the eyes; some, and these were really eyebrows, started above his eyes and curved down. Therefore, on the darkest night, Red Ben could safely wander through the woods. Before a hidden briar could touch either eye, it would hit one of the hairs and give warning in time for the fox to shut his eyes quickly and also duck his head. The long whiskers were often very useful to him. The shrews interested Red Ben, but because they had the hunter smell, he did not try to catch them. They were so small that worms and beetles were their chief prey. On the damp ground the woods creatures could jump about without a rustle. That is what they like to do. The mice wait at the entrance of their homes until the way seems safe, then dash to the nearest bush and hide. If they see no owl or other hunter they make a dash to the next bush and so on until they safely reach the feeding ground. A rustle would catch the attention of any waiting owl and bring him swooping down. Red Ben saw deer mice watching inquisitively from the edges of laurel clumps, also little burrowing pine mice whose sharp eyes fairly twinkled in the moonlight. He saw Brown Weasel chase a nimble deer mouse up an oak, and then he saw Flying Squirrel and his family having a rollicking game of tag around the largest limbs. Fat toads sat about, lazily watching for beetles. The pleasant rain had been taken in through the pores of their skin instead of through their mouths, but they had had enough to satisfy them. On all sides there were little things moving, even from up in the air and down in the ground came squeaks of various kinds. Everyone seemed to have a play fellow—except Red Ben. At last, however, a little possum came ambling through the wood all alone. Red Ben watched him sniff about and climb among some fallen branches. When the gray creature, with little bright eyes, caught sight of the interested fox, he crouched on one of the limbs and gazed back just as interestedly. Red Ben’s playfulness surged over him; he pranced forward, reared on his hind legs and waved his front paws enticingly in front of the little possum’s nose. But Possum fell over backwards, terror in his eyes. Once on the ground he scurried for a tree, and climbed up in a panic. Red Ben, however, was just as quick. Thinking it was all a game, he chased after him, leaped high into the air and caught the scaly tail just as it was getting out of reach. Down plumped the little possum, with wide open, hissing mouth. But instead of running, he lay where he had fallen. Red Ben was greatly surprised. He had meant no harm. Carefully he sniffed and pawed the motionless creature. Yes, his playfellow was certainly dead. For a minute or two he walked around. There was nothing he could do, so he decided to leave the place. “Possum fell over backwards” Just as he reached the next tree, however, he heard a scraping noise and whirled around in time to see the apparently dead possum go up the oak’s trunk even faster than the first time. Sticking his sharp little toe nails into the crevices of the rough bark, he could get a good hold where Red Ben’s toes, which were formed for running, could not have gripped at all. When nearly at the top of the tree, he stopped to look down at Red Ben, grinning. The fox had at first fooled the little possum, but now the little fellow had done some fooling himself. Red Ben looked around for the mice and other little creatures, but found that they had vanished. Being the color of the dead leaves and limbs near which they played and fed, and knowing all the holes and how best to reach the nearest one, all of them could hide quickly. They had been frightened. Many minutes would pass before they dared to crawl out again. |
|
