and so that the air can help dry them out. When they are dry, he takes them inside and stores them away. He also stores other things. He likes the roots of ferns. He cuts tender, young twigs from bushes and stores away some of these. He is fond of bark. In winter he is quite as active as in summer and tunnels about under the snow. Then he sometimes has Peter Rabbit's bad habit of killing trees by gnawing bark all around as high up as he can reach.”
“Can he climb trees?” asked Chatterer the Red Squirrel.
“Just about as much as Johnny Chuck can,” replied Old Mother Nature. “Sometimes he climbs up in low bushes or in small, low-branching trees to cut off tender shoots, but he doesn't do much of this sort of thing. His home is the ground. He is most active at night, but where undisturbed, is out more or less during the day. When he wants to cut off a twig he sits up like a Squirrel and holds the twig in his hands while he bites it off with his sharp teeth.”
“You didn't tell us what color his coat is,” said Peter Rabbit.
“I told you he looked very much like Jerry Muskrat,” replied Old Mother Nature. “His coat is brown, much the color of Jerry's, but his fur is not nearly so soft and fine.”
“I suppose he has enemies just as the rest of us little people have,” said Peter.
“Of course,” replied Old Mother Nature. “All little people have enemies, and most big ones too, for that matter. King Eagle is one and Yowler the Bob Cat is another. They are always watching for Stubtail. That is why he digs so many tunnels. He can travel under the ground then. My goodness, how time flies! Scamper home, all of you, for I have too much to do to talk any more to-day.”
Chapter X
Prickly Porky and Grubby Gopher
All the way to school the next morning Peter Rabbit wondered who they would learn about that day. He was so busy wondering that he was heedless. Peter is apt to be heedless at times. The result was that as he hopped out of a bramble-tangle just within the edge of the Green Forest, he all but landed in something worse than the worst brambles that ever grew. It was only by a wild side jump that he saved himself. Peter had almost landed among the thousand little spears of Prickly Porky the Porcupine.
PRICKLY PORKY THE PORCUPINE. An independent fellow with a thousand little spears in his coat.
“Gracious!” exclaimed Peter.
“Why don't you look where you are going,” grunted Prickly Porky. Plainly he was rather peevish. “It wouldn't be my fault if you had a few of my little spears sticking in you this very minute, and it would serve you right.” He waddled along a few steps, then began talking again. “I don't see why Old Mother Nature sent for me this morning,” he grumbled. “I hate a long walk.”
Peter pricked up his long ears. “I know!” he cried. “You're going to school, Prickly Porky. You're a Rodent, and we are going to learn all about you this morning.”
“I'm not a Rodent; I'm a Porcupine,” grunted Prickly Porky indignantly.
“You're a Rodent just the same. You've got big gnawing teeth, and any one with that kind of teeth is a Rodent,” retorted Peter. Then at a sudden thought a funny look passed over his face. “Why, that means that you and I are related in a way,” he added.
“Don't believe it,” grunted Prickly Porky, still shuffling along. “Don't believe it. Don't want to be related to anybody as heedless as you. What is this school, anyway? Don't want to go to school. Know all I want to know. Know how to get all I want to eat and how to make everybody get out of my way and leave me alone, and that's enough to know.” He rattled the thousand little spears hidden in his coat, and Peter shivered at the sound. It was a most unpleasant sound.
“Well, some folks do like to be stupid,” snapped Peter and hurried on, lipperty-lipperty-lip, while Prickly Porky slowly shuffled and rattled along behind.
All the others were there when Peter arrived. Prickly Porky wasn't even in sight. Old Mother Nature wasted no time. She has too much to do ever to waste time. She called the school to order at once.
“Yesterday,” she began, “I told you about two little haymakers of the high mountains of the Far West. Who were they, Peter Rabbit?”
“Little Chief Hare, called the Pika or Cony, and Stubtail the Mountain Beaver or Sewellel,” replied Peter with great promptness.
“Right,” said Old Mother Nature. “Now I am going to tell you of one of my little plowmen who also lives in the Far West but prefers the great plains to the high mountains, though he is sometimes found in the latter. He is Grubby the Gopher, a member of the same order the rest of you belong to, but of a family quite his own. He is properly called the Pocket Gopher, and way down in the Southeast, where he is also found, he is called a Salamander, though what for I haven't the least idea.”
“Does he have pockets in his cheeks like mine?” asked Striped Chipmunk eagerly.
“He has pockets in his cheeks, and that is why he is called Pocket Gopher,” replied Old Mother Nature; “but they are not at all like yours, Striped Chipmunk. Yours are on the inside of your cheeks, but his are on the outside.”
“How funny!” exclaimed Striped Chipmunk.
“Your pockets are small compared with those of Grubby,” continued Old Mother Nature. “One of his covers almost the whole side of his head back to his short neck, and it is lined with fur, and remember he has two of them. Grubby uses these for carrying food and never for carrying out earth when he is digging a tunnel, as some folks think he does. He stuffs them full with his front feet and empties them by pressing them from the back with his feet. The Gopher family is quite large and the members range in size from the size of Danny Meadow Mouse to that of Robber the Rat, only these bigger members are stouter and heavier than Robber. Some are reddish-brown and some are gray. But whatever his size and wherever he is found, Grubby's habits are the same.”
GRUBBY THE POCKET GOPHER. The true Gopher and a great pest to farmers.
All this time Peter Rabbit had been fidgeting about. It was quite clear that Peter had something on his mind. Now as Old Mother Nature paused, Peter found the chance he had been waiting for. “If you please, why did you call him a plowman?” he asked eagerly.
“I'm coming to that all in due time,” replied Old Mother Nature, smiling at Peter's eagerness. “Grubby Gopher spends most of his life underground, very much like Miner the Mole, whom you all know. He can dig tunnels just about as fast. His legs are short, and his front legs and feet are very stout and strong. They are armed with very long, strong claws and it is with these and the help of his big cutting teeth that Grubby digs. He throws the earth under him and then kicks it behind him with his hind feet. When he has quite a pile behind him he turns around, and with his front feet and head pushes it along to a little side tunnel and then up to the surface of the ground. As soon as he has it all out he plugs up the opening and goes back to digging. The loose earth he has pushed out makes little mounds, and he makes one of these mounds every few feet.
“Grubby is a great worker. He is very industrious. Since he is underground, it doesn't make much difference to him whether it be night or day. In summer, during the hottest part of the day, he rests. His eyes are small and weak because he has little use for them, coming out on the surface very seldom and then usually in the dusk. He has a funny little tail without any hair on it; this is very sensitive and serves him as a sort of guide when he runs backward along his tunnel, which he can do quite fast. A funny thing about those long claws on his front feet is that he folds them under when he is walking or running. Do any of you know why Farmer Brown plows his garden?”
As