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Three Bears of Porcupine Ridge

<h2>XI WHY THE WEASEL NEVER SLEEPS</h2> IT is said by those who have a way of learning all the wood secrets and the intimate habits of the wild, that the owl always sleeps with both eyes wide open, the fox with but one eye closed, and that the sly old weasel, the very craftiest of all the wild kindred, never actually sleeps at all; hence we often hear the old saying, “You never can catch a weasel asleep.” From far up in the North country comes the tale of how this actually comes about; why the weasel is never caught napping. Once upon a time, oh, ages ago, of course, the weasel was not so full of craft, or so hateful and sly as he is in these days. Now he is about the worst dreaded of all the smaller creatures which wear either fur or feathers, shunned and hated by all his kindred, just because of his bad reputation. First, because of his cruel manner of dealing with his prey, for he just yearns to kill any young bird, or small stray animal which happens to cross his evil trail merely for the sake of the kill, and he does it so craftily that he will usually leave a mere pin-prick of a wound, perhaps, in his victim’s neck to show just how it died. But always before he leaves he’ll make sure to suck every drop of blood from its small body. That’s the way of the weasel tribe; you cannot beat them for their cruel, crafty manners, and they’ll trail their prey until it is completely exhausted, then fall upon it and kill it. The weasel always manages to save its own pelt, for in winter Nature changes its fur from brown to white, all excepting the tip of its tail, which remains dark. This aids the sly fellow to creep quite close to some unsuspecting little animal, because its white coat so blends with the snow its movements are not seen. There are weasels of many tribes; some of them are called pole cats. They belong to a race away back, when all weasels were sluggish, for in the old days weasels always slept soundly enough, just like all other animals. And so it happened that away up north in the fur-bearing country, in a beautiful forest of giant spruces, which overhung a kind of a deer run, or trail, right between two ranges of wild mountain land, there lived altogether in peace and comfort a great many of the kindred of the wild. There the little black bear had her den and raised each year her little family, the brown hare thumped his signals against the great tree trunks unmolested and unafraid, the hedgehog grunted and grubbed in peace, and the red fox raised her cubs and they all gamboled together contentedly on a loamy side hill. Oh, they had great times there together, all living in harmony and unafraid, because they never encountered anything harmful in the forest, for man had not entered their spruce wood then. On the edge of the mountain streams the gentle beavers came and raised their mud cabins, which the muskrat tribes came and studied and copied the best way they knew how, for ’tis a fact that long ago the beavers taught the muskrat all he knows about building his house. So there they lived beside the stream together; there were no snares set for them, no blue smoke ever lifted in clouds through the fragrant spruces, for there were no banging guns to frighten them. The only sounds you heard in the great forest in those days were made by innocent things: the gurgling of the little mountain brooks, the dropping of an acorn, the chatter of squirrels, or the crashing of bushes when the black bear and her cubs tore through the woods on her way to the pool to drink and wallow in the mud. Sometimes it was so still in the deep woods you could fairly hear the needles dropping down from ever so far above, down upon the mossy carpet where the deer herded. No doe or fawn had ever raised its head in alarm to see a rifle aimed between its gentle eyes those peaceful times. First thing all the wild things knew, something strange had entered their peaceful forest. It began with arrows; the Indians were their first enemies. Gradually they learned to know about the strange whine of an arrow, and to fear the sight of a brown naked body, topped off by a crest of painted feathers. So some of them taking alarm wandered off into a wilder country, but most of them stayed behind, for you see they dearly loved their forest home. Next thing that happened in the great North woods, the trappers arrived; they began snaring and trapping, and took away every little wild fur pelt they could get. Perhaps the beaver family fared the worst of all, because their fur coats would bring a fine price in market. But the greedy trappers did not stop at that; they soon got after the skunk family, the weasels, hares, anything which wore fur. They would cunningly set their snares close to a beaver village, and of course, in those days, the poor things were so trusting and innocent that they never suspected their danger; so of course they were not on the lookout, and all through the long winter they were trapped by hundreds. By spring, which is the time when the beaver tribes get together and talk over their plans, because beavers usually increase so during winter, that in time some of them move out, and found other settlements, to make room, breaking up into colonies and each one going off. When the old king of the beavers called a council, he could hardly believe his eyes, for really there were so few of his tribe left that there were barely enough to found one good-sized settlement. About this time all the other little fur-bearing animals began to take stock; the skunks had been hunted out, and few remained; as for the weasel tribe, all that remained of a large colony was just the old king and queen of the tribe and one young kitten weasel. Now this young one was as the very apple of their eyes, and had grown old enough to be cute and cunning, and company for the old ones; those days the weasels were about the happiest, most harmless family who lived in the great North woods. They slept then, same as all other animals do, taking plenty of long naps. One day when the old King and Queen Weasel were fast asleep, all rolled together in a fur ball, clear back in their burrow on the back of a ledge, just above the beaver village, a hunter happened to pass by their door, and the little weasel was out on the ledge frolicking, while the old weasels were fast asleep. “Ping!” went a shot, and when the trapper went off he took with him a little brown fur weasel’s coat hanging to his belt. Now the old weasels in their dreams had perhaps heard the echo of that shot; at least the old King Weasel imagined he had heard the young weasel’s squeak of fear. So up he got in a mighty hurry and found the little one gone, and when they reached the edge of the ledge, there they found upon a bed of soft velvety green moss just the tiny, bare carcass of the little one, stripped of its fur coat. Then the old King Weasel fell into such a horrible rage that it is said his very eyes turned as red as blood in his head, and that they have actually stayed that way ever since, because of his terrific anger. The result was that, being very wise, he and his mate conferred together, and they finally came to an agreement between themselves that it was all their fault; that if they had not been lazy and asleep the little one would never have met such a sad fate, so they resolved ever after that to be watchful and vigilant. They determined to live no longer a sluggish life, and said that no one should ever, ever catch them napping again, and they resolved to bring up all their tribe which should follow after them to keep to this resolution. This was all very well, but ’tis said that they have never been able to overcome their terrific anger at losing so many of their tribe; this accounts perhaps for their mean dispositions, and makes them suspicious of everything which chances to cross their trails. His little red eyes, which he still retains, are sly, full of malicious revenge and hate; that’s because he cannot help it, for the weasel was born thus. He has inherited his bitter spirit, and so he just kills and kills, just for sheer spite. Now this movement and counsel together on the part of the whole weasel tribe finally set all the other wild things to thinking, for they all were victims of the weasel’s enemies. So all those who had lost relatives through trappers or Indians held a mighty counsel together. In the end they came to the unanimous decision that they must drop forever their old, innocent trust of everything which chanced to enter the forest; that hereafter they must be very wise, always on guard against anything and everything which came near their trails, and more especially were they to be on the lookout for anything which resembled man. So now you know why it is that the owl takes her rest with both yellow eyes wide open. This too is why, when the beavers are obliged to work in gangs all through the night, as they often do in time of flood, that they invariably select one of their number, a trustworthy sentinel, to guard their village. On some sightly spot the sentinel takes his stand like some brave soldier, always on guard, and the very instant he sees or hears anything at all suspicious upon the outskirts of the camp he immediately gives his signal of warning. “Slap” goes his flat tail against a log, and this serves to arouse the whole colony. The eyes of the brown hare and her kindred were formerly gentle and unafraid. It is not so now, for they always wear a hunted, startled expression; actually at times they almost seem to bulge from their sockets with fear and anxiety. The hare is ever on the alert; she must never be caught unawares, and thus it is she always sleeps with her long, silken ears at just the right angle, so she can readily hear the snapping of even the smallest twig. The muskrat and the woodchuck formerly built their huts with but one door; now they have two exits, and while the enemy is entering one door they are already off and away by way of the back door. They have learned their lesson. They are full of suspicion and craft. As for old Brother Weasel, why, he is the very craftiest one of them all, and you can never actually catch him asleep any more, no matter how hard you may try to do so, and now you know why. <div class="figcenter"> <ANTIMG class="enlargeimage" src="images/enlarge-image.jpg" alt="" width-obs="18" height-obs="14" /> <ANTIMG src="images/ill_153_sml.jpg" width-obs="379" height-obs="436" alt="MRS_WHITE-SPOT_AND_HER_KITTENS" /></div> <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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