BR’ER RABBIT
BR’ER RABBIT is a funny fellow. No wonder that Uncle Remus
makes him
the hero of so many adventures. Uncle Remus had watched him, no doubt,
on some moonlight night when he gathered his boon companions together
for a frolic. In the heart of the woods it was, in a little opening
where the moonlight came streaming in through the pines, making soft
gray shadows for hide-and-seek, and where no prowling fox ever dreamed
of looking.
With most of us, the acquaintance with Bunny is too limited
for us
to appreciate his frolicsome ways and his fun-loving disposition. The
tame things which we see about country yards are often stupid, like a
playful kitten spoiled by too much handling; and the flying glimpse of
a bundle of brown fur, scurrying helter-skelter through and over the
huckleberry bushes, generally leaves us staring in astonishment at the
swaying leaves where it disappeared, and wondering curiously what it
was all about. It was only a brown rabbit that you almost stepped upon
in your autumn walk through the woods.
Look under the crimson sumach yonder, there in the bit of
brown
grass, with the purple asters hanging over, and you will find his form,
where he has been sitting all the morning and where he watched you all
the way up the hill. But you need not follow; you will not find him
again. He never runs straight; the swaying leaves there, where he
disappeared, marked the beginning of his turn, whether to right or left
you will never know. Now he has come around his circle and is near you
again — watching you this minute, out of his
bit of brown grass. As
you move slowly away in the direction he took, peering here and there
among the bushes, Bunny behind you sits up straight in his old form
again, with his little paws held very prim, his long ears pointed after
you, and his deep brown eyes shining like the waters of a hidden spring
among the asters. And he chuckles to himself, and thinks how he fooled
you that time, sure.
To see Br’er Rabbit at his best, one must turn hunter,
and learn
how to sit still and be patient. Only you must not hunt in the usual
way; not by day, for then Bunny is stowed away in his form, where one’s
eyes will never find him; not with gun and dog, for then the keen
interest and quick sympathy needed to appreciate any’ phase of animal
life gives place to the coarser excitement of the hunt; and not by
going about after Bunny, for your heavy footsteps and the rustle of
leaves will only send him scurrying away into safer solitudes. Find
where he loves to meet with his fellows, in quiet little openings in
the woods. Go there by moonlight and, sitting still in the shadow, let
your game find you, or pass by without suspicion. This is the best way
to hunt, whether one is after game or only a better knowledge of the
ways of bird and beast.
The best spot I ever found for watching Bunny’s
ways
was on the
shore of a lonely lake in the heart of a New Brunswick forest. A score
of rabbits (or rather hares) lived there who had never seen a man
before, and were as curious about me as a blue jay. No dog’s voice had
ever wakened the echoes within fifty miles; but every sound of the
wilderness they seemed to know a thousand times better than I. The
snapping of the smallest stick under the stealthy tread of fox or
wildcat would send them scurrying out of sight in wild alarm; yet I
watched a dozen of them at play, one night, when a frightened moose
went crashing through the underbrush and plunged into the lake near by,
and they did not seem to mind least.
The spot referred to was the only camping ground on the
lake, —
so Simmo, my Indian guide, assured me; and he knew very well. I
discovered afterward that it was the only cleared bit of land for miles
around; and this the rabbits knew very well. Right in the midst of
their best playground I pitched my tent, while Simmo built his commoosie
near
by, in another little opening. We were tired that night, after a long
day’s paddle in the sunshine on the river. The after-supper chat before
the camp fire was short and sleepy; and we left the lonely woods to the
bats and owls and creeping things, and turned in for the night.
I was just asleep when I was startled by a loud thump
twice
repeated, just like the thump a bear gives an old log with his paw, to
see if it is hollow and contains any insects. I was wide awake in a
moment, sitting up straight to listen. A few minutes passed by in
intense stillness; then, thump! thump! thump! just outside the
tent among the ferns.
I crept slowly out; but, beyond a slight rustle as my
head appeared
outside the tent, I heard nothing, though I waited several minutes and
searched about among the underbrush. But no sooner was I back in the
tent and quiet than there it was again, and repeated three or four
times, now here, now there, within the next ten minutes. I crept out
again, with no better success than before.
This time, however, I would find out about that
mysterious
noise before going back. It is hardly pleasant to go to sleep until one
knows what things are prowling about, especially things that make a
noise like that. A new moon was shining down into the little clearing,
giving hardly enough light to make out the outlines of the great
evergreens. Down among the ferns things were all black and uniform. For
ten minutes I stood there, in the shadow of a big spruce, and waited.
Then the silence was broken by a sudden heavy thump in the bushes just
behind me. I was startled, and wheeled on the instant; as I did so,
some small animal scurried away into the underbrush.
For a moment I was puzzled. Then it flashed upon me that
I was
camped upon the rabbits’ playground. With the, thought came a strong
suspicion that Bunny was fooling me.
Going back to the fire, I raked the coals together and
threw on
some fuel. Next I fastened a large piece of birch bark on two split
sticks behind the fireplace; then I sat down on an old log to wait. The
rude reflector did very well as the fire burned up. Out in front, the
fern tops were dimly lighted to the edge of the clearing. As I watched,
a dark form shot suddenly above the ferns and dropped back again. Three
heavy thumps followed; then the form shot up and down once more. This
time there was no mistake. In the firelight I saw plainly the dangle of
Br’er Rabbit’s long legs, and the flap of his big ears, and the quick
flash of his dark eyes in the reflected light.
I sat there nearly an hour before the why and the how of
the little
joker’s actions became quite clear. This is what happens in such a
case. Bunny comes down from the ridge for his nightly frolic in the
little clearing. While still in the ferns, the big white object
standing motionless in the middle of his playground catches his
attention; and very much surprised, and very much frightened, but still
very curious, he crouches down close to wait and listen. But the
strange thing does not move nor see him.
To get a better view he leaps up high above the ferns
two or three
times. Still the big thing remains quite still and harmless. “Now,”
thinks Bunny, “I'll frighten him, and find out what he is.” Whereupon
he strikes the ground sharply two or three times with his padded hind
foot; then jumps above the ferns quickly to see the effect of his
scare. Once he succeeded very well, when he crept up close behind me,
so close that he did not have to spring up to see the effect. I fancy
him chuckling to himself as he scurried off after my sudden start.
That was the first time that I ever heard Bunny’s
challenge. It
impressed me at the time as one of his most curious pranks; the sound
was so big and heavy for such a little fellow. Since then I have heard
it frequently; and now, sometimes, when I stand at night in the forest
and hear a sudden heavy thump in the underbrush, as if a big moose were
striking the ground and shaking his antlers at me, it does not startle
me in the least. It is only Br’er Rabbit trying to frighten me.
The next night Bunny played us another trick. Before
Simmo went to
sleep he always took off his blue overalls and put them under his head
for a pillow. That was only one of Simmo’s queer ways. While he was
asleep the rabbits came into his little commoosie, dragged the
overalls out from under his head,
and
nibbled them full of holes, for the taste of salt that they found in
them. Not content with this, they played with them all night; pulled
them ‘around the clearing, as threads here and there plainly showed;
then dragged them away into the underbrush and left them.
Simmo’s wrath when he at last found the precious
garments was
comical to behold; when he wore them, with their new polka-dot pattern,
it was still more comical. That night Simmo, to avenge his overalls,
set a deadfall supported by a piece of cord, which he had soaked in
molasses and salt. Which meant that Bunny would nibble the cord, and
bring the log down hard on his own back. So I had to spring it, while
Simmo slept, to save the little fellow’s life and learn more about him.
On the ridge above our tent was a third tiny clearing,
where some
trappers had once made their winter camp. It was there that I watched
the hares one moonlight night from my seat on an old log, just within
the shadow. The first arrival came in with a rush. There was a sudden
scurry behind me, and over the log he came with a flying leap that
landed him on the smooth bit of ground in the middle; where he whirled
around and around with grotesque jumps, like a kitten after its tail.
Only Br’er Rabbit’s tail was too short for him ever to catch it; he
seemed rather to be trying to get a good look at it. Then he went off
like a rocket in a headlong rush through the ferns. Before I knew what
had become of him, over the log he came again in a marvelous jump, and
went tearing around the clearing like a circus horse, varying his
performance now by a high leap, now by two or three awkward hops on his
hind legs, like a dancing bear. It was immensely entertaining.
The third time around he discovered me in the midst of
one of his
antics. He was so surprised that he fell down. In a second he was up
again, sitting very straight on his haunches just in front of me, paws
crossed, ears erect, eyes shining in fear and curiosity. “Who are you?”
he was saying, as plainly as ever rabbit said it. Without moving a
muscle I tried to tell him, and also that he need not be afraid.
Perhaps he began to understand, for he turned his head, as a dog does
when you talk to him. But he was not quite satisfied. “I'll try my
scare on him,” he thought; and thump! thump! thump! sounded
his padded hind foot on the soft ground. It almost made me start again,
it sounded so big in the dead stillness. This last test quite convinced
him that I was harmless and, after a moment’s watching, away he went in
some astonishing jumps into the forest.
A few minutes passed by in quiet waiting before he was
back again,
this time with two or three companions. I have no doubt that he had
been watching me all the time, for I heard his challenge in the brush
just behind my log. The fun now began to grow lively. Around and around
they went, here, there, everywhere; the woods seemed full of rabbits,
they scurried around so. Every few minutes the number increased, as
some new arrival came flying in, and gyrated around like a brown fur
pinwheel. They leaped over everything in the clearing; they leaped over
each other as if playing leap-frog; they vied with each other in the
high jump. Sometimes they gathered together in the middle of the open
space and crept about close to the ground, in and out and roundabout,
like a game of fox and geese. Then they rose on their hind legs and
hopped slowly about in all the dignity of a minuet. Right in the midst
of the solemn affair some mischievous fellow gave a squeak and a big
jump; and away they all went hurry-skurry, for all the world like a lot
of boys turned loose for recess. In a minute they were back again,
quiet and sedate, and solemn as bullfrogs. Were they chasing and
chastising the mischief-maker, or was it only the over-flow of
abundant spirits, as the top of a kettle blows off when the pressure
below becomes resistless?
THE
WOODS SEEMED FULL OF RABBITS
Many of the rabbits saw me, I am sure, for they
sometimes gave a
high jump over my foot; and one came close up beside it, and sat up
straight to look me over. Perhaps it was the first corner, for he did
not try his scare again. Like most wild creatures, they have very
little fear of an object that remains motionless at their first
approach and challenge.
Once there was a curious performance over across the
clearing. I
could not see it plainly, but it looked very much like a boxing match.
A queer sound,
put-a-put-a-put-a-put, first
drew my attention to it. Two rabbits were at the edge of the ferns,
standing up on their hind legs, face to face, and apparently cuffing
each other soundly, while they hopped slowly around and around in a
circle. I could not see the blows but only the boxing attitude, and
hear the sounds as they landed on each other’s ribs. The other rabbits
did not seem to mind it, as they would have done had it been a fight,
but stopped occasionally to watch the two, and then went on with their
fun-making. Since then I have read of tame hares that did the same
thing, but I have never seen it.
At another time the rabbits were gathered together in
the very
midst of some quiet fun, when they leaped aside suddenly and
disappeared among the ferns as if by magic. The next instant a dark
shadow swept across the opening, almost into my face, and wheeled out
of sight among the evergreens. It was Kookooskoos, the big brown owl,
coursing the woods on his nightly hunt after the very rabbits that were
crouched motionless beneath him as he passed. But how did they learn,
all at once, of the coming of an enemy whose march is noiseless as the
sweep of a shadow? And did they all hide so well that he never
suspected that they were about, or did he see the ferns wave as the
last one disappeared, but was afraid to come back after seeing me?
Perhaps Br’er Rabbit was well repaid that time for his confidence.
They
soon came back again, as they would not have done had it been a natural
opening. Had it been one of Nature’s own sunny spots, the owl
would have swept back and forth across it; for he knows the
rabbits’ ways as well as they know his. But hawks and owls
avoid a spot like this, that men have cleared. If they cross it once in
search of prey, they seldom return. Wherever man camps, he leaves
something of himself behind; and the fierce birds and beasts of the
woods fear it, and shun it. It is only the innocent things, singing
birds, and fun-loving rabbits, and harmless little wood mice
— shy, defenseless creatures all
— that take possession of man’s abandoned
quarters, and enjoy his protection. Bunny knows this, I think; and so
there is no other place in the woods that he loves so well as an old
camping ground.
The play was soon over; for it is only in the early part
of the
evening, when Br’er Rabbit first comes out, after sitting still in his
form all day, that he gives himself up to fun, like a boy out of
school. If one may judge, however, from the looks of Simmo’s overalls,
and from the number of times he woke me by scurrying around my tent, I
suspect that he is never too serious and never too busy for a joke. It
is a way he has of brightening the more sober times of getting his own
living, and keeping a sharp lookout for cats and owls and prowling
foxes.
Gradually the playground was deserted, as the rabbits
slipped off
one by one to hunt their supper. Now. and then there was a scamper
among the underbrush, and a high jump or two, with which. some playful
bunny enlivened his search for tender twigs; and at times one, more
curious than the rest, came hopping along to sit erect a moment before
the old log, and look to see if .the strange animal were still there.
But soon the old log was vacant too. Out in the swamp a disappointed
owl sat on his lonely stub that lightning had blasted, and hooted that
he was hungry. The moon looked down into the little clearing with its
waving ferns and soft gray shadows, and saw nothing there to suggest
that it was the rabbits’ nursery.
Down
at the camp a new surprise was awaiting me. Br’er Rabbit was under the
tent fly, tugging away at the salt bag, which I had left there
carelessly after curing a bearskin. While he was absorbed in getting it
out from under the rubber blanket, I crept up on hands and knees, and
stroked him once from ears to tail. He jumped straight up with a
startled squeak whirled in the air, and came down facing me. So we
remained for a full moment, our faces scarcely two feet apart, looking
into each other’s eyes. Then he thumped the earth soundly with his left
hind foot, to show that he was not afraid, and scurried under the fly
and through the brakes in a half circle to a bush at my heels, where he
sat up straight in the shadow to watch me.
But I had seen enough for one night. I left a generous
pinch of
salt where he could find it easily, and crept in to sleep, leaving him
to his own ample devices.
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