“You are right,” said the opossum. “Every animal always seems to be ready to catch another one. I like pretty birds as you like plump acorns. A yellow, brown, and blue bird is a very attractive creature. An ugly sparrow is not half so pleasing to me as a golden oriole.”
“I am sorry that you like to destroy birds,” said Tiny, who had learned to love the little feathered songsters of the forest. “You are cowardly. You attack birds. They are smaller than you.”
“I am cowardly but cautious,” returned the opossum. “I should be foolish to try to capture an eagle. I have caught six little birds this morning. The first, second, and third birds were sparrows. The fourth, the fifth, and the sixth birds were robins.”
“The poor things surely did not suffer long. Your mouth is so large and your teeth are so sharp,” said the red squirrel.
“Where do you live?” inquired the opossum, still gazing at the caterpillar.
“I came from Beaver Creek,” answered Tiny. “I am out to-day to study Nature.”
“Then you needn’t spend any more of your time here. There are other things to see,” snapped the opossum. “Your incessant chatter is keeping the birds away.”
“Where do you live?” asked Tiny, wishing to save as many birds as possible.
“Close by,” replied the opossum indifferently. “I live in a dead tree.”
“What has become of the caterpillar?”