THE MALLARDS AND THEIR NEIGHBORS

PERHAPS you would like to know more about Terror the Hunter. He lived in a Low Yellow House by the railroad tracks, and worked for the railroad. He was called a "section hand." He was not a citizen of our country, and could not read our language. And so he knew nothing about the game laws, or if he did, he did not care.

Terror the Hunter owned a gun. It was against the law for a foreigner to own a gun, but he did not care about that, either. When he went hunting, he killed any of the Little Wild Creatures that he could find. He would as soon shoot Burlingame the Meadow Lark and other song birds as anything. He was the greatest enemy that the Feathered Friends and Furry Friends knew.

Whenever word went out among the Little Wild Creatures that Terror the Hunter was afield, all of them tried to hide because of fear.

One day when Terror the Hunter was not working he took down his gun and started out with a pocket full of ammunition. He was not quite sure where to go, but he thought he might find something to shoot. He was not at all particular about what he killed or ate.

After a while he saw a pond. He thought there might be Ducks on it, or Blackbirds in the rushes along its edge. It was the Duck Pond on the Old Homestead; but Terror the Hunter did not know that. He crept across a field until he came to the Drooping Willow Trees and Jungle Thickets near the Duck Pond. He saw a board with some letters on it, that was nailed to a tree, but he could not read it. If he could have, it would have warned him not to hunt there.

Terror the Hunter crawled under the fence and into the Jungle Thicket. Very carefully he sneaked through the brush, for he did not wish to make a noise by breaking any of the Dry Sticks. That would have told the Little Wild Creatures that danger was near; and that was the last thing Terror the Hunter wanted them to know.

At last Terror the Hunter reached the edge of the Duck Pond. He parted the Tumbled Bulrushes and looked out. There on the water near the center of the Duck Pond was a gray duck that looked like Mrs. Mallard from a distance. It was just a little too far away to shoot, and so Terror settled down in his Hiding Place and waited. He thought that the duck would swim nearer to him if he stayed out of sight and waited.

The gray duck was having a fine time. It swam here and there in search of good things to eat, and really did not seem as if it were paying much attention to anything around it.

At last the gray duck began to swim toward Terror the Hunter. Of course Terror was glad. He thought he would have a fine fat duck to eat. He expected to shoot the duck and wait for the Playful Air Whiffs to blow it to shore so he could get it.

When the duck was near enough, Terror the Hunter raised his gun and fired. He was sure he would see a dead duck lying on the water. But that was one time Terror was mistaken. Instead of seeing a dead duck, he did not see any duck at all. You see, the gray duck was not Mrs. Mallard. It was Diver the Grebe.

Diver the Grebe was a very active duck. He could dive faster than you could wink your eye. He did not like to fly, and so whenever danger came near, he would dive out of sight. Then he would swim under water and come up a long way from the place where he went under. Diver the Grebe could dive so swiftly that he was under the water before Terror the Hunter's shot got to him.

A little later he came up away out in the middle of the Duck Pond. That was too far for Terror the Hunter to shoot, and Diver the Grebe knew it. He knew he was safe, and he went ahead with his feeding as if nothing had happened.

Of course Terror the Hunter was disappointed. He did not know that Mr. and Mrs. Mallard were hiding on the other side of the Duck Pond. They swam into some Tumbled Bulrushes out of sight. They could not quite understand why it was that Terror the Hunter was shooting on the Duck Pond when Mr. Bluebird had said that Bobby White had told him that Farmer Smith did not allow hunting.

They were not quite sure that they liked the Duck Pond as well as they had. They hid in the Tumbled Bulrushes to talk it over. They did not know that right then Farmer Smith was hurrying across the Green Meadow to catch Terror the Hunter.

Farmer Smith was a deputy game warden. That is, he was asked by the state to protect the Little Wild Creatures from Terror the Hunter. Farmer Smith was glad to do this because he knew the Little Wild Creatures were his friends, and he liked them. Sometimes the state brought Feathered Friends like Hungarian the Partridge from distant countries and turned them loose on the Old Homestead. Then Farmer Smith protected them from Terror the Hunter so they would like their new home.

You may be sure that Terror the Hunter was surprised when Farmer Smith stepped out of the brush and grabbed him. That was the last time Terror came to the Old Homestead to hunt. He had to give up his gun and pay a fine for hunting on posted land out of season without a license. That taught Terror a lesson he never forgot.

The Mallards did not know all this, but they did know that Farmer Smith had taken Terror away, because Redwing the Blackbird told them so. He had seen the whole thing from his High Perch on a Drooping Willow Tree. Of course when the Mallards and the Spoonbills and the other Little Wild Creatures heard that Farmer Smith had taken Terror away, they were all glad.

"Oak-a-lee," sang Redwing the Blackbird.

CHAPTER 6

Longlegs the Heron Goes Wading

CROAKER the Frog sat on a pile of dead Swamp Grass at the edge of the Duck Pond singing. At least he probably called it singing. But it was a very different song from the one that Redwing the Blackbird was singing not far away. Croaker's voice was very coarse and harsh. It sounded about like rolling a stone around in an empty tin can.

But Croaker the Frog was happy, and even though he could not sing so sweetly as Redwing and some of the Feathered Friends, still he was doing the best he could. No doubt it sounded beautiful to him, and Croaker should not be blamed for doing his best any more than we would want to be if we were working or singing or doing something else as well as we could.

Croaker had hatched from an egg the summer before. At first he was a Wiggly Tadpole that looked like a big head with a tail fastened to it. Croaker could swim quite well with his tail, but it was not long until he started to grow legs. His hind legs started to grow first, and then his front ones came into sight. Of course, his hind legs were much the larger because he needed them with which to hop and swim. As his legs grew larger, his tail grew smaller, until it disappeared entirely. He did not need it when he had legs. It would have been in his way when he hopped. The Creator knew this when He made Croaker, and we can frequently see God's wisdom shown in other ways in nature if we will but look for it.

Croaker the Frog had been asleep all winter. When the ice began to freeze on the Duck Pond the fall before and Croaker could no longer swim about from place to place, he burrowed down into the Oozy Mud, and there he stayed until Jolly Spring came and melted the ice. Then he crawled out from his muddy bed, kicked his legs a few times to limber them up, and climbed out into the Bright Little Sunbeams.

The Laughing Yellow Sun warmed Croaker's back and made him happy. Now and then an early fly or other insect came close enough for him to catch. Sometimes he found insects floating on the water. It all made Croaker very happy, and so he tried his best to tell others about it. He croaked as loud as he could, and each time he croaked he puffed out a large sack under his chin.

When listening to Croaker the Frog, one might have thought that he did not have any worries at all. But Croaker did have troubles the same as every one. One of the things that bothered him was Longlegs the Heron. Right then when Croaker was singing his solo, Longlegs the Heron was out looking for him.

Longlegs had been wading along Little River. He liked very much to wade along its banks in search of minnows and frogs. Longlegs had not been very successful that day. It was a little too early for frogs in Little River. Then, just when he was getting ready to fly back to his perch in a Giant Cottonwood, he heard a croak. It came from the Duck Pond.

"Aha," thought Longlegs, "Croaker the Frog is out at last. I believe I'll just fly over to the Duck Pond and go wading there for a while. I surely would like a frog for supper."

Longlegs had eaten many minnows that day. They were plentiful in Little River. But he could not seem to find any frogs. Longlegs was very fond of frogs. He would stalk along the bank of the Duck Pond among the rushes and water lilies for hours looking for frogs. Croaker the Frog and his friends were not so easy to catch. Their backs were just the color of the green things on which they sat, and it took sharp eyes to see them.

Did you ever notice that a frog's eyes are set right on top of its head? That is another wise provision that the Creator made for Croaker and his friends. You see, when Croaker's eyes were on top like that, he could sit with all of his body under water. Only his eyes and nose stuck out. In that way he could find a Hiding Place in the water under a large leaf or bunch of water grass. Sometimes he would sit quietly and wait until a fly or mosquito almost lit on his very nose. That would be the end of Mr. Mosquito.

With his eyes sticking out on top of his head, Croaker could watch in every direction for danger. If Longlegs the Heron came near, Croaker would take a full breath of air and settle quietly to the bottom of the Duck Pond among the grass roots.

But Longlegs was a skillful hunter. He was very quiet, and he had sharp eyes. Sometimes Croaker's friends were so interested with their singing that they forgot to watch for Longlegs. Before they knew it, Longlegs would straighten the bends in his long neck with one swift thrust, and down the red lane they would go.

Longlegs lit in the water near the bank of the Duck Pond and started wading. First he raised one foot very carefully, and then with his toes still held together so they would not make a noise, he stepped ahead. Then he drew up the other foot and held it a moment before stepping ahead. He could stand on one foot for a long time.

It is impossible to say whether or not Longlegs would have caught Croaker if nothing had interfered. But just as Longlegs was nearing the place where Croaker was sitting on his bunch of Swamp Grass singing, along came Lutra the Otter, who went kerplunk into the water.

That spoiled everything for Longlegs the Heron. Croaker did not know who had made such a splash, but he knew it was time to dive out of sight. And so Croaker dove into the water so quickly he hardly had time to take a full breath of air first. And Longlegs the Heron decided he would have to wait until another day to catch Croaker.