Secret of the Woods | Page 6

morning they were gone, the
signs of several mice telling plainly who had been called in from the
wilderness byways. That was the introduction of man to beast. Soon
they came regularly. I had only to scatter crumbs and squeak a few
times like a mouse, when little streaks and flashes would appear on the

moss or among the faded gold tapestries of old birch leaves, and the
little wild things would come to my table, their eyes shining like jet,
their tiny paws lifted to rub their whiskers or to shield themselves from
the fear under which they lived continually.
They were not all alike--quite the contrary. One, the same who had
washed in my cup, was gray and old, and wise from much dodging of
enemies. His left ear was split from a fight, or an owl's claw, probably,
that just missed him as he dodged under a root. He was at once the
shyest and boldest of the lot. For a day or two he came with marvelous
stealth, making use of every dead leaf and root tangle to hide his
approach, and shooting across the open spaces so quickly that one
knew not what had happened- -just a dun streak which ended in nothing.
And the brown leaf gave no sign of what it sheltered. But once assured
of his ground, he came boldly. This great man-creature, with his face
close to the table, perfectly still but for his eyes, with a hand that
moved gently if it moved at all, was not to be feared--that Tookhees felt
instinctively. And this strange fire with hungry odors, and the white
tent, and the comings and goings of men who were masters of the
woods kept fox and lynx and owl far away--that he learned after a day
or two. Only the mink, who crept in at night to steal the man's fish, was
to be feared. So Tookhees presently gave up his nocturnal habits and
came out boldly into the sunlight. Ordinarily the little creatures come
out in the dusk, when their quick movements are hidden among the
shadows that creep and quiver. But with fear gone, they are only too
glad to run about in the daylight, especially when good things to eat are
calling them.
Besides the veteran there was a little mother-mouse, whose tiny gray
jacket was still big enough to cover a wonderful mother love, as I
afterwards found out. She never ate at my table, but carried her fare
away into hiding, not to feed her little ones-they were, too small as
yet--but thinking in some dumb way, behind the bright little eyes, that
they needed her and that her life must be spared with greater precaution
for their sakes. She would steal timidly to my table, always appearing
from under a gray shred of bark on a fallen birch log, following the
same path, first to a mossy stone, then to a dark hole under a root, then
to a low brake, and along the underside of a billet of wood to the mouse
table. There she would stuff both cheeks hurriedly, till they bulged as if

she had toothache, and steal away by the same path, disappearing at last
under the shred of gray bark.
For a long time it puzzled me to find her nest, which I knew could not
be far away. It was not in the birch log where she disappeared--that was
hollow the whole length--nor was it anywhere beneath it. Some
distance away was a large stone, half covered by the green moss which
reached up from every side. The most careful search here had failed to
discover any trace of Tookhees' doorway; so one day when the wind
blew half a gale and I was going out on the lake alone, I picked up this
stone to put in the bow of my canoe. That was to steady the little craft
by bringing her nose down to grip the water. Then the secret was out,
and there it was in a little dome of dried grass among some spruce roots
under the stone.
The mother was away foraging, but a faint sibilant squeaking within the
dome told me that the little ones were there, and hungry as usual. As I
watched there was a swift movement in a tunnel among the roots, and
the mother-mouse came rushing back. She paused a moment, lifting her
forepaws against a root to sniff what danger threatened. Then she saw
my face bending over the opening--Et tu Brute! and she darted into the
nest. In a moment she was out again and disappeared into her tunnel,
running swiftly with her little ones hanging to her sides by a grip that
could not be shaken,--all but one, a delicate pink creature that