The Three Bears of Porcupine Ridge

by Jean M. Thompson

So that very night, when the great yellow moon rose over the dark hills, the Dame left her old burrow and waddled forth, with Ichabod following closely behind, to find a new home where food should be plentiful.

Across the perilous deep morasses of the cranberry bogs she dragged her unwieldy old body. Necessarily they traveled quite slowly, for the way seemed long and difficult, and the poor old thing was weak from lack of proper food. Often they paused in their night journey to rest and enjoy their new surroundings, for the Dame had never traveled very far from her old burrow before. Down in the thickets of the cranberry bog the whippoorwills sang plaintively their tremulous song; the Dame and Ichabod listened, and heard also, occasionally, the sleepy call of a nesting hermit thrush down in the meadows. Sometimes a hoot owl would brush past them, and call at them jeeringly. On the edge of the marshes they came into a great bed of dewy clover, sweet and cool. Here they paused to rest and feed.

Finally they reached the open country, and in the distance, in the moonlight, they plainly distinguished the tall wavy shadows of the corn of which the kind raccoon had told them. They had reached the promised land of plenty at last.

Very fortunately for the Dame and Ichabod they chanced to come across a deserted rabbit hole, which by a little judicious digging they very soon converted into quite a comfortable home; so that before any of the other little wild creatures in that neighborhood were awake the next morning the Dame and Ichabod had taken possession of their new burrow and were soon fast asleep in an upper chamber.

As Dame Woodchuck was so very weary and lame from her long journey she could not travel far from her home, but had to content herself at first with simply dragging herself to the door of the burrow, where she would gaze forth long and hopefully at the new and pleasant prospect spread out before her tired old eyes.

There, sure enough, not many fields away, lay the beautiful corn-field, where already choice ears filled with tender grains, just suited to her worn old teeth, were waiting, to be had for the taking, and she knew that already Ichabod was in the field, scurrying about beneath the wavy green plumes.

Great was the alarm and dismay of the Dame when Ichabod finally returned to her with no food and a strange fearsome tale of what had happened to him upon his first visit to the corn. It was all true enough about the fine, juicy corn; it was there, and plenty of it for everybody, just as the kind raccoon had told them. But, unfortunately, the whole field was ruled over, watched and guarded by a frightful monster, who occupied a commanding position right in the very center of the corn-field, where he guarded well the corn both by night and day; with angry, menacing mien he stood there, and no one dare intrude. Moreover, Solomon Crow and his family, who sat upon a rail fence near the corn-field, had told a terrible tale of certain unseen snares placed for the unwary, which the terrible creature had spread out all about him. Many of the crows had been caught in the innocent appearing threads, had given a few futile flops and strident caws, and that had been the last of them.

Oh, the giant who guarded the corn was indeed a fearful monster. Built upon similar lines to the farmer himself, whom they had all often seen, but far, far more horrible to look upon was this creature of the corn-field, who towered far above the tallest corn-stalks and held leveled at intruders an unknown weapon, from which fluttered yards and yards of fearsome streaming objects, and when the wind blew across the field the creature who guarded the corn shook with rage from top to toe. The giant’s hair was ragged and unkempt, and bristled forth fiercely from beneath his tattered old hat. Ichabod, somewhat bolder than others, wishing to get a full view, had crept as closely as he dared, and rising upon his hind legs, by the aid of a stone, he had stolen one fleeting glance full at the giant of the corn-field. One look had been quite sufficient for Ichabod and had sent him, panic-stricken with fear, hustling away; so hastily did he travel that he left a large tuft of his fur in a barb-wire fence beneath which he slid, and ran scuttling back home to his mother with chattering teeth.

Now Dame Woodchuck was very old and wise in experience, and she had in her long lifetime heard of such giants as Ichabod told her he had seen in the corn-field. And never in all her life had she ever heard of one of the creatures harming a woodchuck, in spite of gossip. After all, the crows were mostly gossips. It was certainly high time that Ichabod began to learn a few lessons from life, and have more courage and responsibility. Besides, the more the Dame thought of the luscious sweet corn so close at hand, the more hungry did she become.

So finally, quite unable to endure the trying situation longer, Dame Woodchuck herself started forth to investigate the matter. And Ichabod, not wishing to tarry home alone, ran along beside his old mother. They often stopped to rest and chat by the roadside, and all the terrifying stories which they heard of the giant filled them with secret dismay. But Dame Woodchuck was very brave at heart and did not lose her courage easily. So skirting the edge of the corn-field they soon gained a little hillock, where they had a full view of the monster. It was only too true; there he stood, undaunted and firm, waving aloft his fluttering, terrifying warning. Dame Woodchuck and Ichabod sat bolt upright upon their haunches and stared at the creature with bulging eyes.