animal heroes(动物英雄)-第20节
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had kept the ponds and streams so full that Fish and Frogs were safe from
their armed paws； and this mother Lynx fared no better than her kind。
The little oneshalf starved before they camewere a double drain； for
they took the time she might have spent in hunting。
The Northern Hare is the favorite food of the Lynx； and in some years
she could have killed fifty in one day； but never one did she see this season。
The plague had done its work too well。
One day she caught a Red…squirrel which had run into a hollow log
that proved a trap。 Another day a fetid Blacksnake was her only food。 A
day was missed； and the little ones whined piteously for their natural food
and failing drink。 One day she saw a large black animal of unpleasant but
familiar smell。 Swiftly and silently she sprang to make attack。 She struck it
once on the nose； but the Porcupine doubled his head under； his tail flew
up； and the mother Lynx was speared in a dozen places with the little
stinging javelins。 She drew them all with her teeth； for she had 〃learned
Porcupine〃 years before； and only the hard push of want would have made
her strike one now。
A Frog was all she caught that day。 On the next； as she ranged the
farthest woods in a long； hard hunt； she heard a singular calling voice。 It
was new to her。 She approached it cautiously； up wind； got many new
odors and some more strange sounds in coming。 The loud； clear； rolling
call was repeated as the mother Lynx came to an opening in the forest。 In
the middle of it were two enormous muskrat or beaver…houses； far bigger
than the biggest she ever before had seen。 They were made partly of logs
and situated； not in a pond； but on a dry knoll。 Walking about them were a
number of Partridges； that is； birds like Partridges； only larger and of
various colors； red； yellow； and white。
She quivered with the excitement that in a man would have been
called buck…fever。 Foodfoodabundance of food； and the old huntress
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sank to earth。 Her breast was on the ground； her elbows above her back； as
she made stalk； her shrewdest； subtlest stalk； one of those Partridges she
must have at any price； no trick now must go untried； no error in this hunt；
if it took hoursall day she must approach with certainty to win before
the quarry took to flight。
Only a few bounds it was from wood shelter to the great rat…house； but
she was an hour in crawling that small space。 From stump to brush； from
log to bunch of grass she sneaked； a flattened form； and the Partridges saw
her not。 They fed about； the biggest uttering the ringing call that first had
fallen on her ear。
Once they seemed to sense their peril； but a long await dispelled the
fear。 Now they were almost in reach； and she trembled with all the
eagerness of the hunting heart and the hungry maw。 Her eye centred on a
white one not quite the nearest； but the color seemed to hold her gaze。
There was an open space around the rat…house； outside that were tall
weeds； and stumps were scattered everywhere。 The white bird wandered
behind these weeds； the red one of the loud voice flew to the top of the rat…
mound and sang as before。 The mother Lynx sank lower yet。 It seemed an
alarm note； but no； the white one still was there； she could see its feathers
gleaming through the weeds。 An open space now lay about。 The huntress；
flattened like an empty skin； trailed slow and silent on the ground behind a
log no thicker than her neck； if she could reach that tuft of brush she could
get unseen to the weeds and then would be near enough to spring。 She
could smell them nowthe rich and potent smell of life； of flesh and blood；
that set her limbs a…tingle and her eyes a…glow。
The Partridges still scratched and fed； another flew to the high top； but
the white one remained。 Five more slow…gliding； silent steps； and the Lynx
was behind the weeds； the white bird shining through； she gauged the
distance； tried the footing； swung her hind legs to clear some fallen brush；
then leaped direct with all her force； and the white one never knew the
death it died； for the fateful gray shadow dropped； the swift and deadly did
their work； and before the other birds could realize the foe or fly； the Lynx
was gone； with the white bird squirming in her jaws。
Uttering an unnecessary growl of inborn ferocity and joy she bounded
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into the forest； and bee…like sped for home。 The last quiver had gone from
the warm body of the victim when she heard the sound of heavy feet ahead。
She leaped on a log。 The wings of her prey were muffling her eyes； so she
laid the bird down and held it safely with one paw。 The sound drew nearer；
the bushes bent； and a Boy stepped into view。 The old Lynx knew and
hated his kind。 She had watched them at night； had followed them； had
been hunted and hurt by them。 For a moment they stood face to face。 The
huntress growled a warning that was also a challenge and a defiance；
picked up the bird and bounded from the log into the sheltering bushes。 It
was a mile or two to the den； but she stayed not to eat till the sunlit
opening and the big basswood came to view； then a low 〃prr…prr〃 called
forth the little ones to revel with their mother in a plenteous meal of the
choicest food。
III
THE HOME OF THE LYNX
At first Thor； being town…bred； was timid about venturing into the
woods beyond the sound of Corney's axe； but day by day he went farther；
guiding himself； not by unreliable moss on trees； but by sun； compass； and
landscape features。 His purpose was to learn about the wild animals rather
than to kill them； but the naturalist is close kin to the sportsman； and the
gun was his constant companion。 In the clearing； the only animal of any
size was a fat Woodchuck； it had a hole under a stump some hundred
yards from the shanty。 On sunny mornings it used to lie basking on the
stump； but eternal vigilance is the price of every good thing in the woods。
The Woodchuck was always alert and Thor tried in vain to shoot or even
to trap him。
〃Hyar；〃 said Corney one morning； 〃time we had some fresh meat。〃 He
took down his rifle； an old…fashioned brass…mounted small…bore； and
loading with care that showed the true rifleman； he steadied the weapon
against the door…jamb and fired。 The Woodchuck fell backward and lay
still。 Thor raced to the place and returned in triumph with the animal；
shouting： 〃Plumb through the headone hundred and twenty yards。〃
Corney controlled the gratified smile that wrestled with the corners of
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his mouth； but his bright eyes shone a trifle brighter for the moment。
It was no mere killing for killing's sake； for the Woodchuck was
spreading a belt of destruction in the crop around his den。 Its flesh
supplied the family with more than one good meal and Corney showed
Thor how to use the skin。 First the pelt was wrapped in hardwood ashes
for twenty…four hours。 This brought the hair off。 Then the skin was soaked
for three days in soft soap and worked by hand； as it dried； till it came out
a white strong leather。
Thor's wanderings extended farther in search of the things which
always came as surprises however much he was looking for them。 Many
days were blanks and others would be crowded with incidents； for
unexpectedness is above all the peculiar feature of hunting； and its lasting
charm。 One day he had gone far beyond the ridge in a new direction and
passed through an open glade where lay the broken trunk of a huge
basswood。 The size impressed it on his memory。 He swung past the glade
to make for the lake； a mile to the west； and twenty minutes later he
started back as his eye rested on a huge black animal in the crotch of a
hemlock； some thirty feet from the gro
