Doctor Muskrat looked at Louie in a very puzzled way. “I wonder if he can go wild?” said he. “It’s a long, long time since men were wild.” You ought to have seen the Woodsfolk prick up their ears over the idea.
CHAPTER IX
LOUIE TAKES LESSONS OF THE WOODSFOLK
It was early in the morning when Louie woke up and began to rub his eyes. Where was he? What were those little cheepy sounds all around him and that rustling and pattering--yes, and splashing? He remembered that splashing; it was the last thing he heard the night before. Tad Coon had been splattering and scrubbing in Doctor Muskrat’s pond.
That’s exactly where he was; down by Doctor Muskrat’s pond, with his head pillowed on the grass at the edge of Doctor Muskrat’s flat stone. The splashing wasn’t all Tad Coon’s; a little bit of it was the swish of Doctor Muskrat diving in head first when Louie stretched his arm. He dove in such a hurry that he left a nice newly dug sweetflag root behind him.
Louie opened his eyes, and then he lay very, very quiet. For all the Woodsfolk were out getting their breakfasts; they weren’t paying the least attention to him. He never knew there were so many of them. Chatter Squirrel ran down a tree and nibbled the edge of a mushroom. Three little mice ran down to drink; one gnawed the head of a bulrush Doctor Muskrat had cut down, and another shinned up a leaning grass stem and ate its seeds. Bob White Quail’s whole family came strolling by, dear little bright-eyed, striped brown puffballs, just beginning to have wing feathers. One of Stripes Skunk’s children jumped right over his feet; he was chasing a grasshopper. Nibble Rabbit’s bunnies were mostly chasing each other. They kicked up their furry heels and flicked their tufty little tails at each other, playing hide and seek in and out of some burdock leaves. Fat Tad Coon was making a happy whiny little song through his nose while he scrubbed another frog before eating it. And all the little birds would perk up their heads, give a touch or two to their feathers, and fly down to spatter in the pond and wet their whistles, maybe snatch a bug or a worm, before they began their morning song. By the time they were all wide awake Louie’s head was ringing with the racket. But he didn’t want them to stop--no, indeed, he just wanted to sing with them.
When Louie opened his eyes, all the woodsfolk were out getting their breakfasts.
He was very careful about getting up because he didn’t want to scare any of them. He sneaked down to wash, because everybody else was doing it, you know. First thing he knew he felt so happy he was whistling. Chaik the Jay shouted “Hey!” at him. And he just shouted back, “Hey yourself!” Because by then he knew Chaik was just making fun of him. Why, he was one of them; couldn’t he just make as much noise and have as much fun?
Yes, and have something to eat, too. He didn’t want a mushroom, like Chatter, because mushrooms sometimes give little boys worse pains inside them than the potato plants gave the foolish mice. He didn’t want a grasshopper, or a seed, like the quail, or a plantain leaf, like a bunny, or a frog or a bug or a worm. But there was that root of Doctor Muskrat’s. He smelled it--just like the wild things do. He tasted it. Then he ate it. Yum-m-m! It tasted like more.
The rest of the Woodsfolk didn’t pay any attention to Louie, but old Doctor Muskrat kept swimming round, wondering what had become of the root; he never dreamed that little boy would eat it.