By this time Red Ben knew most of the wood creatures, and they knew him. Ringtail, Possum, White Stripe and Screech Owl were hunters; like himself they preferred meat to grass, fruit, roots and nuts. Although each had a scent entirely his own, each also had the “hunter” smell, quite different from the meadow mice, who lived on seeds and grass, or from Red Squirrel, who ate nuts, mushrooms and buds. Quite different too from the deer and from Bun, the big rabbit who lived near one of the farm gardens and enjoyed parsnips, string beans and other vegetables, whenever the clover was scarce.
The woodsfolk could be divided into two big families—the first one made up of those who hunt and the other of those who are hunted. The hunters get used to seeing each other and to running across each other’s trails at night. As long as there is food enough for all, they rarely quarrel; but jealousy and suspicion keep them from being real friends. Red Ben did not think of playing with the young coons; nor would young skunks have interested him at all as playmates.
The four-footed hunters all had teeth very much like those of a dog or a cat, while the little animals that they hunted had gnawing teeth, like those of the mouse. Even the woodchuck and the muskrat had gnawing teeth; they liked to eat grass and tender roots. Screech Owl and other hunters among the birds, from big Bald Eagle all the way down to little Sparrow Hawk, had hooked beaks and long sharp claws or talons, with which to catch their prey.
CHAPTER V
GRAY FOX
At first Red Ben saw no other foxes, and rarely came across the tracks of any, for Ben Slown’s traps did their work well. There was, however, one cunning old fellow who paid a visit to the Ridge whenever there was especially good hunting weather. With him, on one never to be forgotten night in late August, Red Ben had an adventure.
He and his mother had gone to Ben Slown’s fields to hunt the little short tailed meadow mice which were so plentiful there that their paths had been gnawed through the grass in every direction. They had caught two, and were once more entering Oak Ridge wood, when Red Ben noticed that his mother hesitated to go farther and kept anxiously looking into the shadows. He heard a deer snort; then, in the half darkness of the wood, he caught the glint of two eyes.
This new creature was certainly no coon or possum; the eyes were higher above the ground than either of these would hold its head. Quickly it moved into the moonlight and showed itself to be a fox, not unlike the mother in form, but gray in color, with reddish legs and a tail entirely lacking the beautiful roundness of the red fox’s.
Instinctively the pup stood as straight and tall as he could, while along his back the hair fairly tingled with dislike. He saw his mother try to slip away, and then crouch suddenly with ears back and warning whine. He saw Gray Fox trot up, walk around her, and then bare his teeth in a snarl that sent off the soft-eyed mother in a hurry. How his heart pounded then, and how the fury welled up in his breast!
Gray Fox next turned in the direction of Red Ben, but stopped short when he found the young fox facing him without flinching. Stiff legged and disdainful he slowly walked forward, and got the surprise of his life as Red Ben flew at him like a fury, bit him on the side of the head, again on the foot when he reared up, and then on the tip of his precious nose. Back he staggered, snarling angrily, but scarcely knowing what to do.
Then Red Ben, remembering well the holds his mother had taught in their games, flew at his thick neck, caught the heavy, loose skin behind the ear and closed his sharp teeth until they nearly met.