The Three Bears of Porcupine Ridge

by Jean M. Thompson

“Ping!” went a shot, and when the trapper went off he took with him a little brown fur weasel’s coat hanging to his belt. Now the old weasels in their dreams had perhaps heard the echo of that shot; at least the old King Weasel imagined he had heard the young weasel’s squeak of fear. So up he got in a mighty hurry and found the little one gone, and when they reached the edge of the ledge, there they found upon a bed of soft velvety green moss just the tiny, bare carcass of the little one, stripped of its fur coat.

Then the old King Weasel fell into such a horrible rage that it is said his very eyes turned as red as blood in his head, and that they have actually stayed that way ever since, because of his terrific anger. The result was that, being very wise, he and his mate conferred together, and they finally came to an agreement between themselves that it was all their fault; that if they had not been lazy and asleep the little one would never have met such a sad fate, so they resolved ever after that to be watchful and vigilant. They determined to live no longer a sluggish life, and said that no one should ever, ever catch them napping again, and they resolved to bring up all their tribe which should follow after them to keep to this resolution.

This was all very well, but ’tis said that they have never been able to overcome their terrific anger at losing so many of their tribe; this accounts perhaps for their mean dispositions, and makes them suspicious of everything which chances to cross their trails. His little red eyes, which he still retains, are sly, full of malicious revenge and hate; that’s because he cannot help it, for the weasel was born thus. He has inherited his bitter spirit, and so he just kills and kills, just for sheer spite.

Now this movement and counsel together on the part of the whole weasel tribe finally set all the other wild things to thinking, for they all were victims of the weasel’s enemies. So all those who had lost relatives through trappers or Indians held a mighty counsel together. In the end they came to the unanimous decision that they must drop forever their old, innocent trust of everything which chanced to enter the forest; that hereafter they must be very wise, always on guard against anything and everything which came near their trails, and more especially were they to be on the lookout for anything which resembled man.

So now you know why it is that the owl takes her rest with both yellow eyes wide open. This too is why, when the beavers are obliged to work in gangs all through the night, as they often do in time of flood, that they invariably select one of their number, a trustworthy sentinel, to guard their village. On some sightly spot the sentinel takes his stand like some brave soldier, always on guard, and the very instant he sees or hears anything at all suspicious upon the outskirts of the camp he immediately gives his signal of warning. “Slap” goes his flat tail against a log, and this serves to arouse the whole colony.

The eyes of the brown hare and her kindred were formerly gentle and unafraid. It is not so now, for they always wear a hunted, startled expression; actually at times they almost seem to bulge from their sockets with fear and anxiety. The hare is ever on the alert; she must never be caught unawares, and thus it is she always sleeps with her long, silken ears at just the right angle, so she can readily hear the snapping of even the smallest twig.

The muskrat and the woodchuck formerly built their huts with but one door; now they have two exits, and while the enemy is entering one door they are already off and away by way of the back door. They have learned their lesson. They are full of suspicion and craft.

As for old Brother Weasel, why, he is the very craftiest one of them all, and you can never actually catch him asleep any more, no matter how hard you may try to do so, and now you know why.