After that feast the mother seemed content to let Striped Coat do a little hunting for himself while she moved about slowly, occasionally finding a berry, or an unwary beetle on the surface of the ground. And Striped Coat made good use of his opportunity, in tasting many kinds of plants and roots and in learning where the night crawling earth worms could be found and caught before they pulled their long bodies back into their burrows.
All too soon, the mother grew uneasy about the coming of day and started back. Striped Coat followed but this time found difficulty in keeping up; there were no stops now, the mother thought only of getting back to the barn. So the little skunk, work his short legs as he would, kept dropping behind. Added to this strain was the presence of a big bird, Great Horned Owl, who flew silently from tree to tree, at a little distance from them but always nearly abreast of their course. There was something so stealthy about his watchful waiting that Striped Coat grew afraid.
On and on went the mother with the galloping motion used so much by the skunks, and Striped Coat still toddled along and kept her in sight while also watching the big owl. Then some bushes loomed ahead and the little skunk found himself suddenly alone. A shadow seemed to pass over him; he dodged into the bushes like a flash and escaped the talons of Great Horned Owl by a mere inch. Indeed, where he had been a moment before, now stood the big bird, its eyes glaring, wings ready for another dash and strike.
Striped Coat cowered back against what seemed a solid wall of stems, and the owl noting his fear, started into the bushes after him; but suddenly things changed; with a stamp of his foot the little fellow sidled forward, every hair on end, his tail straight over his back. The owl hesitated; he was facing more of a proposition than he had bargained for. The little skunk looked young and defenseless, but it acted very grown up. The owl knew what an old wood pussy could do.
Where he had been a moment before, now stood the big bird, its eyes glaring, wings ready for another dash and strike
Snapping his hooked beak, the big bird backed away and with a final glare, took wing as silently as he had come. A minute later his “Hu hu, huua hu,” sounded nearby as he called to locate his mate, then further, and finally so far away it was like a faint echo in the distance. Then Striped Coat came out and continued his journey, and it might have been noticed that now he walked along with a kind of self confident dignity, every hair still on end. More than ever he looked like a little fur ball, but not the kind with which it is safe to play.
Sniffing along his mother’s trail, he very quickly came in sight of the hole under the barn, but before going in he took a look at the nest of his friend the white crow, then, all puffed up, with furry tail still proudly held up like a flag, he marched in to join the others.
CHAPTER VII
STRANGE HAPPENINGS
A furious thunder storm was sweeping down Goose Creek; hailstones nearly the size of marbles bounded from limb to limb or cut through the tender leaves on their way to earth. Such things sometimes happened in the last days of June, but rarely were they followed by a wind as cold as that which in the night swept through the pines around the barn of Farmer Slown. It whistled in the holes and cracks and made the wood pussies’ new home drafty and uncomfortable.