Secret of the Woods | Page 3

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SECRETS OF THE WOODS BY WILLIAM J. LONG
Wood Folk Series Book Three
1901
TO CH'GEEGEE-LOKH-SIS, "Little Friend Ch'geegee," whose
coming makes the winter glad.
PREFACE
This little book is but another chapter in the shy 'wild life of the fields
and woods' of which "Ways of Wood Folk" and "Wilderness Ways "
were the beginning. It is given gladly in answer to the call for more
from those who have read the previous volumes, and whose letters are
full of the spirit of kindness and appreciation.
Many questions have come of late with these same letters; chief of
which is this: How shall one discover such things for himself? how
shall we, too, read the secrets of the Wood Folk? There is no space here
to answer, to describe the long training, even if one could explain
perfectly what is more or less unconscious. I would only suggest that
perhaps the real reason why we see so little in the woods is the way we
go through them--talking, laughing, rustling, smashing twigs,
disturbing the peace of the solitudes by what must seem strange and
uncouth noises to the little wild creatures. They, on the other hand, slip
with noiseless feet through their native coverts, shy, silent, listening,
more concerned to hear than to be heard, loving the silence, hating
noise and fearing it, as they fear and hate their natural enemies.
We would not feel comfortable if a big barbarian came into our quiet
home, broke the door down, whacked his war-club on the furniture, and
whooped his battle yell. We could hardly be natural under the
circumstances. Our true dispositions would hide themselves. We might
even vacate the house bodily. Just so Wood Folk. Only as you copy
their ways can you expect to share their life and their secrets. And it is
astonishing how little the shyest of them fears you, if you but keep
silence and avoid all excitement, even of feeling; for they understand
your feeling quite as much as your action.
A dog knows when you are afraid of him; when you are hostile; when
friendly. So does a bear. Lose your nerve, and the horse you are riding
goes to pieces instantly. Bubble over with suppressed excitement, and
the deer yonder, stepping daintily down the bank to your canoe in the

water grasses, will stamp and snort and bound away without ever
knowing what startled him. But be quiet, friendly, peace-possessed in
the same place, and the deer, even after discovering you, will draw near
and show his curiosity in twenty pretty ways ere he trots away, looking
back over his shoulder for your last message. Then be generous--show
him the flash of a looking-glass, the flutter of a bright handkerchief, a
tin whistle, or any other little kickshaw that the remembrance of a boy's
pocket may suggest--and the chances are that he will