“Well, seeing we’re such old friends,” whispered Doctor Muskrat, “I’ll let you know. But it’s a secret. He’s down in Nibble Rabbit’s hole. I expect that sly young bunny means to be married in the spring, and won’t his hole be nicely lined with woodchuck fur, just won’t it?”
“Great grass seeds!” exploded Great-grandfather Mouse. “It’s a mouse charm. No rabbit has anything to do with it.” So he stumped off home, dragging his fat old tail and wagging his crinkled ears, and in half an hour more people knew about Doctor Muskrat’s secret than if Chatter Squirrel had shouted it from the treetops. They knew where the woodchuck was and they meant to get some fur off him, too.
And Nibble Rabbit was all but turning somersaults on his little paddy feet out behind the bulrushes because he was so amused over it.
The great day came at last—Groundhog Day—the day when the woodchuck ought to come out to foretell the weather for spring. And Nibble Rabbit and Doctor Muskrat weren’t the only ones who were watching for him.
For all the snow around the mouth of Nibble’s hole was tunnelled by the mice, and they were scuffling and squeaking beneath it; so it’s a wonderful thing Silvertip the Fox didn’t hear them. And Nibble thought what a wonderful joke it would be if that woodchuck did come walking out of the hole. So he shook him and jounced him and pulled his round, mousy ears and his long spiky whiskers. But, no! That woodchuck just wouldn’t wake up. So finally Nibble gave it up and crawled out of doors. And there at the mouth of the hole he met old Great-grandfather Fieldmouse, who was too fat and clumsy for any tunnel.
“Good morning,” said Nibble. “I see you’ve come to greet my friend Mr. Woodchuck when he comes out to foretell the weather.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” said Great-grandfather Fieldmouse very severely. “This is the day we come for our regular charm of woodchuck fur to keep our young safe from owls.” He spoke as solemnly as though he had done it every year of his life. “It’s strictly a mouse charm,” he went on, “and no rabbit is going to keep us from it!” He said that because Doctor Muskrat had given him the idea that Nibble meant to keep it all for himself. And Doctor Muskrat gave him that idea because he didn’t want Great-grandfather Mouse to suspect that Nibble had invented the whole story about the charm. Doctor Muskrat knew they’d never bother about coming after the woodchuck fur unless they thought that someone else wanted it as much as they did.
“Very well,” Nibble answered meekly; “but please leave a little for me.”
“We’ll see if there’s enough to go round,” replied the mouse. And with that he laid back his ears—he’s so old that they’re all crinkled—and marched down into Nibble’s own hole. And out he came with a mouthful of fur. And every fieldmouse from all the woods and fields solemnly marched in and did the very same thing as if they’d done it every year of their lives, too.
And maybe you think Nibble Rabbit and Doctor Muskrat didn’t laugh until their sides were fit to split—maybe you think they didn’t. Because they knew they were going to be able to prove to every one of the woodsfolk just where Mr. Woodchuck was and what he was doing on the next day after the first February moon.