  When the early pink and white flowers of the trailing arbutus brightened the ground in many parts of the slowly awakening woods, Mr. Henry returned to the cabin. It was there that he found it possible to do his best work, for he was a writer, who needed the quiet and solitude of a place like this. Nothing really unpleasant ever seemed to happen there, and interesting things were always cropping up. For instance there was Striped Coat! And now Striped Coat had a mate! But the other little wood pussy did not like the noise of footsteps on the floor over her head. They frightened her. So after two days of nervous watchfulness, she could bear it no longer and slipped out under cover of the twilight, picking her way into the woods until she reached an uprooted pine under whose trunk a large woodchuck had dug a burrow. This old fellow had only recently awakened from his winter sleep and was at that moment in his snug nest, dreaming no doubt of the time when the woods would again be full of eatable green things. It could not be said therefore that he was overjoyed when he heard scratching at his front door and caught the scent of the wood pussy as she descended towards him. Knowing from experience that to steal a burrow like this was a great temptation to the meat eaters who needed dens for themselves, he at once began to make unpleasant remarks in woodchuck language and to threaten with his teeth, the longest of which being arranged like a rat’s in the front of his mouth, could give a fearful bite. But the wood pussy had come there because she already knew that this burrow was just the right size for her, a smaller woodchuck’s home would not have been comfortable. Moreover an old woodchuck’s den was usually well hidden and made with plenty of protection against rain and dampness as well as with a second entrance for escape in case of danger. It would not be an easy matter to drive out the old fighter who was quite as large as herself, but her need was urgent and this burrow suited her exactly. Showing her teeth and threatening with the musk bath made no difference however to this woodchuck, indeed he worked himself into such a rage that he even drove her back inch by inch until he had her almost at the entrance again. This fighting spirit however proved his undoing, for suddenly he was attacked from the rear and with a force which there was no resisting. Striped Coat had followed the trail of his companion and, finding her fighting in the burrow, had run in too and tried to push past in order to help. The burrow being much too narrow for this, he had then rushed out of that entrance and in at the back door so quickly that he was able to surprise the old chuck before he could return to his usual fighting position in a corner with back protected. Now, there was nothing for him to do but get out of his burrow as quickly as he could and go somewhere else where he might hope to have a little peace before being found again and driven out by some den hunter. It sounded like a hard life, but Ground Hog’s claws and feet were so powerful that in soft earth he could dig a fairly good den in a day. He was lucky this time, for had it been a fox instead of a wood pussy, he would surely have been eaten. And so with Striped Coat still living under the cabin, his mate got a fine den all to herself, which came in handy a few weeks later when six little ones arrived, three of them like the mother and three with the dark body and the markings of Striped Coat, their father, already showing in their skin. Healthy little things they were too, with plenty of appetite which their mother was usually able to supply, for almost her only thought now was of these helpless, hairless little youngsters. She had carried into the den and stored away conveniently, several half eaten mice, lizards and little snakes which, for a day or two, made it unnecessary for her to do much hunting, but on the fourth day she felt very hungry and wandered all the way to Farmer Slown’s field. Striped Coat, coming across her trail, followed her there and arrived at almost the same moment, so together they explored the edge of the field for beetles and at length reached the barn under which Striped Coat slipped, as in the old days; but now things were changed, there were vile odors and diggings of rats on all sides. Even as they entered, a huge male rat ran past them and sulkily entered a burrow. Striped Coat turned towards him, but not as quickly as his mate who dashed after the flying tail. She was still ravenously hungry and here was meat. The rat however was now in his narrow den, feeling quite safe enough to turn and chatter furiously at his pursuers who accepted his challenge by beginning to dig. The burrow ran close to the surface of the ground, so they made the dirt fairly fly and took short cuts by skipping over some sections. This was the kind of work they were built for and the eagerness of his mate had now thoroughly aroused Striped Coat. From one hole to another they chased the clever rat until it seemed as if at any moment they would have him cornered and force him to fight, but he knew what he was about and kept one thing in reserve, a dash to Farmer Slown’s own house, under which he had a hole leading into the kitchen. He reckoned however without the experienced wisdom of Striped Coat. The three tugging, biting, squealing and pulling each other this way and that until they burst from under the barn and had it out on the flat ground When what seemed to him the right moment had come, the rat poked his battle scarred gray nose out of the hidden hole, saw that the way seemed clear and made a rush, but Striped Coat had been waiting for just this move and made a rush too. He and the rat bumped into each other amid furious squeals, and the rat was thrown off his feet. In that moment the other wood pussy reached him and landed on top with both front paws and all her weight, but without so much as knocking the breath out of the powerful, big fellow who rolled over and would have escaped had not Striped Coat caught him suddenly by the skin on the back of his head. Then the fight became furious. The three tugging, biting, squealing and pulling each other this way and that until they burst from under the barn and had it out on the flat ground directly in front of the Farmer’s house. Here the moon shone on the battle and helped the mother wood pussy to see her chance to get the death grip on the rat’s thick neck and finish him. They did not hear a window open over their heads nor see the Farmer’s face appear; in the heat of the fighting they had forgotten all else. But now Striped Coat, who still had his grip on the rat’s head, began to drag him under the fence and then to the bushes and then to a dark thicket where they seemed safe. Striped Coat lay down to lick a badly bitten paw and to free his wonderful fur from dirt, which he did by carefully shaking, scratching and much work with his mouth. But his mate began at the left hind leg of the rat and ate as long as she could find anything tender enough to chew. It was not as tasty a meal as she would have liked, but it all went to keep her strong and so to help the six little ones to get all the milk they needed. |
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