She was interrupted by a great rattling on the old stump. Everybody turned to look. There was Prickly Porky backing down as fast as he could, which wasn’t fast at all, and rattling his thousand little spears as he did so. It was really very funny. Everybody had to laugh, even Old Mother Nature. You see, it was plain that he was in a great hurry, yet every movement was slow and clumsy.
“Well, Prickly Porky, what does this mean? Where are you going?” demanded Old Mother Nature.
Prickly Porky turned his dull-looking eyes towards her, and in them was a troubled, worried look. “Where’s Pekan the Fisher?” he asked, and his voice shook a little with something very much like fear.
Old Mother Nature understood instantly. When she had said, “Now there’s Pekan the Fisher,” Prickly Porky had waited to hear no more. He had instantly thought that she meant that Pekan was right there somewhere. “It’s all right, Prickly Porky,” said she. “Pekan isn’t anywhere around here, so climb back on that stump and don’t worry. Had you waited for me to finish, you would have saved yourself a fright. Chatterer had just said that you didn’t have to fear anybody and I was starting to explain that he was wrong, that despite your thousand little spears you have reason to fear Pekan the Fisher.”
Prickly Porky shivered and this made the thousand little spears in his coat rattle. It was such a surprising thing to see Prickly Porky actually afraid that the other little folks almost doubted their own eyes. “Are you quite sure that Pekan isn’t anywhere around?” asked Prickly Porky, and his voice still shook.
“Quite sure,” replied Old Mother Nature. “If he were I wouldn’t allow him to hurt you. You ought to know that. Now sit up so that every one can get a good look at you.”
Prickly Porky sat up, and the others gathered around the foot of the stump to look at him. “He certainly is no beauty,” murmured Happy Jack Squirrel.
Happy Jack was quite right. He was anything but handsome. The truth is he was the homeliest, clumsiest-looking fellow in all the Green Forest. He was a little bigger than Bobby Coon and his body was thick and heavy-looking. His back humped up like an arch. His head was rather small for the size of his body, short and rather round. His neck was even shorter. His eyes were small and very dull. It was plain that he couldn’t see far, or clearly unless what he was looking at was close at hand. His ears were small and nearly hidden in hair. His front teeth, the gnawing teeth which showed him to be a Rodent, were very large and bright orange. His legs were short and stout. He had four toes on each front foot and five on each hind foot, and these were armed with quite long, stout claws.
But the queerest thing and the most interesting thing about Prickly Porky was his coat. Not one among the other little people of the Green Forest has a coat anything like his. Most of them have a soft, short under fur protected and more or less hidden by longer, coarser hair. Prickly Porky had the long coarse hair and on his back it was very long and coarse, brownish-black in color up to the tips, which were white. Under this long hair was some soft woolly fur, but what that long hair hid chiefly was an array of wicked-looking little spears called quills. They were white to the tips, which were dark and very, very sharply pointed. All down the sides were tiny barbs, so small as hardly to be seen, but there just the same. On his head the quills were about an inch long, but on his back they were four inches long, becoming shorter towards the tail. The latter was rather short, stout, and covered with short quills.
As he sat there on that old stump some of Prickly Porky’s little spears could be seen peeping out from the long hair on his back, but they didn’t look particularly dangerous. Peter Rabbit suddenly made a discovery. “Why!” he exclaimed. “He hasn’t any little spears on the under side of him!”
“I wondered who would be the first to notice that,” said Old Mother Nature. “No, Prickly Porky hasn’t any little spears underneath, and Pekan the Fisher has found that out. He knows that if he can turn Prickly Porky on his back he can kill him without much danger from those little spears, and he has learned how to do that very thing. That is why Prickly Porky is afraid of him. Now, Prickly Porky, climb down off that stump and show these little folks what you do when an enemy comes near.”
Grumbling and growling, Prickly Porky climbed down to the ground. Then he tucked his head down between his front paws and suddenly the thousand little spears appeared all over him, pointing in every direction until he looked like a giant chestnut burr. Then he began to thrash his tail from side to side.
“What is he doing that for?” asked Johnny Chuck, looking rather puzzled.
“Go near enough to be hit by it, and you’ll understand,” said Old Mother Nature dryly. “That is his one weapon. Whoever is hit by that tail will find himself full of those little spears and will take care never to go near Prickly Porky again. Once those little spears have entered the skin, they keep working in deeper and deeper, and more than one of his enemies has been killed by them. On account of those tiny barbs they are hard to pull out, and pulling them out hurts dreadfully. Just try one and see.”
But no one was anxious to try, so Old Mother Nature paused only a moment. “You will notice that he moves that tail quickly,” she continued. “It is the only thing about him which is quick. When he has a chance, in time of danger, he likes to get his head under a log or rock, instead of putting it between his paws as he is doing now. Then he plants his feet firmly and waits for a chance to use that tail.”
“Is it true that he can throw those little spears at folks?” asked Peter.
Old Mother Nature shook her head. “There isn’t a word of truth in it,” she declared. “That story probably was started by some one who was hit by his tail, and it was done so quickly that the victim didn’t see the tail move and so thought the little spears were thrown at him.”
“How does he make all those little spears stand up that way?” asked Jumper the Hare.
“He has a special set of muscles for just that purpose,” explained Old Mother Nature.
“When those quills stick into some one they must pull out of Prickly Porky’s own skin; I should think that would hurt him,” spoke up Striped Chipmunk.
“Not at all,” replied Old Mother Nature. “They are very loosely fastened in his skin and come out at the least little pull. New ones grow to take the place of those he loses. Notice that he puts his whole foot flat on the ground just as Buster Bear and Bobby Coon do, and just as those two-legged creatures called men do. Very few animals do this, and those that do are said to be plantigrade. Now, Prickly Porky, tell us what you eat and where you make your home, and that will end to-day’s lesson.”
PADDY THE BEAVER. This shows his wonderful dam and his house. See page 76.
“I eat bark, twigs and leaves mostly,” grunted Prickly Porky ungraciously. “I like hemlock best of all, but also eat poplar, pine and other trees for a change. Sometimes I stay in a tree for days until I have stripped it of all its bark and leaves. I don’t see any sense in moving about any more than is necessary.”
“But that must kill the tree!” exclaimed Peter Rabbit.
“Well, what of it?” demanded Prickly Porky crossly. “There are plenty of trees. In summer I like lily pads and always get them when I can.”
“Can you swim?” asked Peter eagerly.
“Of course,” grunted Prickly Porky.
“I never see you out on the Green Meadows,” said Peter.
“And you never will,” retorted Prickly Porky. “The Green Forest for me every time. Summer or winter, I’m at home there.”
“Don’t you sleep through the cold weather the way Buster Bear and I do?” asked Johnny Chuck.
“What should I sleep for?” grumbled Prickly Porky. “Cold weather doesn’t bother me. I like it. I have the Green Forest pretty much to myself then. I like to be alone. And as long as there are trees, there is plenty to eat. I sleep a great deal in the daytime because I like night best.”
“What about your home?” asked Happy Jack.
“Home is wherever I ha
ppen to be, most of the time, but Mrs. Porky has a home in a hollow log or a cave or under the roots of a tree where the babies are born. I guess that’s all I’ve got to tell you.”
“You might add that those babies are big for the size of their mother and have a full supply of quills when they are born,” said Old Mother Nature. “And you forgot to say how fond of salt you are, and how often this fondness gets you into trouble around the camps of men. Your fear of Pekan the Fisher we all saw. I might add that Puma the Panther is to be feared at times, and when he is very hungry Buster Bear will take a chance on turning you on your back. By the way, don’t any of you call Prickly Porky a Hedgehog. He isn’t anything of the kind. He is sometimes called a Quill Pig, but his real name, Porcupine, is best. He has no near relatives. To-morrow morning, instead of meeting here, we’ll hold school on the shore of the pond Paddy the Beaver has made. School is dismissed.”
12. A Lumberman and Engineer
JOHNNY Chuck and Striped Chipmunk were the only ones who were not on hand at the pond of Paddy the Beaver deep in the Green Forest at sun-up the next morning. Johnny and Striped Chipmunk were afraid to go so far from home. To the surprise of everybody, Prickly Porky was there.
“He must have traveled all night to get here, he is such a slow-poke,” said Peter Rabbit to his cousin, Jumper the Hare.
Peter wasn’t far from the truth. But however he got there, there he was, reaching for lily pads from an old log which lay half in the water, and appearing very well satisfied with life. You know there is nothing like a good meal of things you like, to make everything seem just as it should.
Old Mother Nature seated herself on one end of Paddy’s dam and called the school to order. Just as she did so a brown head popped out of the water close by and a pair of anxious eyes looked up at Old Mother Nature.
“It is quite all right, Paddy,” said she softly. “These little folks are trying to gain a little knowledge of themselves and other folks, and we are going to have this morning’s lesson right here because it is to be about you.”
Paddy the Beaver no longer looked anxious. There was a sparkle in his eyes. “May I stay?” he asked eagerly. “If there is a chance to learn anything I don’t want to miss it.”
Before Old Mother Nature could reply Peter Rabbit spoke up. “But the lesson is to be about you and your family. Do you expect to learn anything about yourself?” he demanded, and chuckled as if he thought that a great joke.
“It seems to me that some one named Peter learned a great deal about his own family when he first came to school to me,” said Old Mother Nature. Peter had grace enough to hang his head and look ashamed. “Of course you may stay, Paddy. In fact, I want you to. There are some things I shall want you to explain. That is why we are holding school over here this morning. Just come up here on your dam where we can all get a good look at you.”
Paddy the Beaver climbed out on his dam. It was the first time Happy Jack Squirrel ever had seen him out of water, and Happy Jack gave a little gasp of surprise. “I had no idea he is so big!” he exclaimed.
“He is the biggest of all the Rodents in this country, and one of the biggest in all the Great World. Also he is the smartest member of the whole order,” said Old Mother Nature.
“He doesn’t look it,” said Chatterer the Red Squirrel with a saucy jerk of his tail.
“Which means, I suppose, that you haven’t the least doubt that you are quite as smart as he,” said Old Mother Nature quietly, and Chatterer looked both guilty and a little bit ashamed. “I’ll admit that you are smart, Chatterer, but often it is in a wrong way. Paddy is smart in the very best way. He is a lumberman, builder and engineer. A lot of my little people are workers, but they are destructive workers. The busier they are, the more they destroy. Paddy the Beaver is a constructive worker. That means that he is a builder instead of a destroyer.”
“How about all those trees he cuts down? If that isn’t destroying, I don’t know what is!” said Chatterer, and with each word jerked his tail as if somehow his tongue and tail were connected.
“So it is,” replied Old Mother Nature good-naturedly. “But just think of the number of trees you destroy.”
“I never have destroyed a tree in my life!” declared Chatterer indignantly.
“Yes, you have,” retorted Old Mother Nature.
“I never have!” contradicted Chatterer, quite forgetting to whom he was speaking.
But Old Mother Nature overlooked this. “I don’t suppose you ever ate a chestnut or a fat hickory nut or a sweet beechnut,” said she softly.
“Of course,” retorted Chatterer sharply. “I’ve eaten ever and ever and ever so many of them. What of it?”
“In the heart of each one was a little tree,” explained Old Mother Nature. “But for you very many of those little trees would have sprung up and some day would have made big trees. So you see for every tree Paddy has destroyed you probably have destroyed a hundred. You eat the nuts that you may live. Paddy cuts down the trees that he may live, for the bark of those trees is his food. Like Prickly Porky he lives chiefly on bark. But, unlike Prickly Porky, he doesn’t destroy a tree for the bark alone. He wastes nothing. He makes use of every bit of that tree. He does something for the Green Forest in return for the trees he takes.”
Chatterer looked at Happy Jack and blinked in a puzzled way. Happy Jack looked at Peter Rabbit and blinked. Peter looked at Jumper the Hare and blinked. Jumper looked at Prickly Porky and blinked. Then all looked at Paddy the Beaver and finally at Old Mother Nature, and all blinked. Old Mother Nature chuckled.
“Don’t you think the Green Forest is more beautiful because of this little pond?” she asked. Everybody nodded. “Of course,” she continued. “But there wouldn’t be any little pond here were it not for Paddy and the trees he has cut. He destroyed the trees in order to make the pond. That is what I meant when I called him a constructive worker. Now I want you all to take a good look at Paddy. Then he will show us just how as a lumberman he cuts trees, as a builder he constructs houses and dams, and as an engineer he digs canals.”
As Paddy sat there on his dam, he looked rather like a giant member of the Rat family, though his head was more like that of a Squirrel than a Rat. His body was very thick and heavy, and in color he was dark brown, lighter underneath than above. Squatting there on the dam his back was rounded. All together, he was a very clumsy-looking fellow.
JERRY MUSKRAT. He is the largest of American Rats. Note how his tail is flattened. See page 86.
Peter Rabbit appeared to be interested in just one thing, Paddy’s tail. He couldn’t keep his eyes off it.
Old Mother Nature noticed this. “Well, Peter,” said she, “what have you on your mind now?”
“That tail,” replied Peter. “That’s the queerest tail I’ve ever seen. I should think it would be heavy and dreadfully in the way.”
Old Mother Nature laughed. “If you ask him, Paddy will tell you that that tail is the handiest tail in the Green Forest,” said she. “There isn’t another like it in all the Great World, and if you’ll be patient you will see just how handy it is.”
It was a queer-looking tail. It was broad and thick and flat, oval in shape, and covered with scales instead of hair. Just then Jumper the Hare made a discovery. “Why!” he exclaimed, “Paddy has feet like Honker the Goose!”
“Only my hind feet,” said Paddy. “They have webs between the toes just as Honker’s have. That is for swimming. But there are no webs between my fingers.” He held up a hand for all to see. Sure enough, the fingers were free.
“Now that everybody has had a good look at you, Paddy,” said Old Mother Nature, “suppose you swim over to where you have been cutting trees. We will join you there, and then you can show us just how you work.”
Paddy slipped into the water, where for a second or two he floated with just his head above the surface. Then he quickly raised his broad, heavy tail and brought it down on the water with a slap that sounded like the crack of a terrible gun.
It was so loud and unexpected that every one save Old Mother Nature and Prickly Porky jumped with fright. Peter Rabbit happened to be right on the edge of the dam and, because he jumped before he had time to think, he jumped right into the water with a splash. Now Peter doesn’t like the water, as you know, and he scrambled out just as fast as ever he could. How the others did laugh at him.
“What did he do that for?” demanded Peter indignantly.
“To show you one use he has for that handy tail,” replied Old Mother Nature. “That is the way he gives warning to his friends whenever he discovers danger. Did you notice how he used his tail to aid him in swimming? He turns it almost on edge and uses it as a rudder. Those big, webbed hind feet are the paddles which drive him through the water. He can stay under water a long time—as much as five minutes. See, he has just come up now.”
Sure enough, Paddy’s head had just appeared clear across the pond almost to the opposite shore, and he was now swimming on the surface. Old Mother Nature at once led the way around the pond to a small grove of poplar trees which stood a little way back from the water. Paddy was already there. “Now,” said Old Mother Nature, “show us what kind of a lumberman you are.”
Paddy picked out a small tree, sat up much as Happy Jack Squirrel does, but with his big flat tail on the ground to brace him, seized the trunk of the tree in both hands, and went to work with his great orange-colored cutting teeth. He bit out a big chip. Then another and another. Gradually he worked around the tree. After a while the tree began to sway and crack. Paddy bit out two or three more chips, then suddenly slapped the ground with his tail as a warning and scampered back to a safe distance. He was taking no chances of being caught under that falling tree.
The tree fell, and at once Paddy returned to work. The smaller branches he cut off with a single bite at the base of each. The larger ones required a number of bites. Then he set to work to cut the trunk up in short logs. At this point Old Mother Nature interrupted.
The Burgess Animal Book for Children Page 7
