Those songs made him hungry. He knew of nothing he liked better, next to fat meadow-mice, than birds. That reminded him that some of them nest on the ground, Mrs. Grouse for instance. He had little hope that he could catch her, for it seemed as if she had eyes in the back of her head; but she should have a family by this time, and if he could find those youngsters—the very thought made his mouth water, and he started for the Green Forest.
Once there, he visited one place after another where he thought he might find Mrs. Grouse. He was almost ready to give up and go back to the Green Meadows to hunt for meadow-mice when a sudden rustling in the dead leaves made him stop short and strain his ears. There was a faint “kwitt,” and then all was still. Tommy took three or four steps and then—could he believe his eyes?—there was Mrs. Grouse fluttering on the ground just in front of him! One wing dragged as if broken.
Tommy made a quick spring and then another. Somehow Mrs. Grouse just managed to get out of his way. But she couldn’t fly. She couldn’t run as she usually did. It was only luck that she had managed to evade him. Very stealthily he approached her as she lay fluttering among the leaves. Then, gathering himself for a long jump, he sprang.
Once more he missed her, by a mere matter of inches it seemed. The same thing happened again and still again. It was maddening to have such a good dinner so near and yet not be able to get it. Then something happened that made Tommy feel so foolish that he wanted to sneak away. With a roar of wings Mrs. Grouse sailed up over the tree-tops and out of sight!
“Huh! Haven’t you learned that trick yet?” said a voice.
Tommy turned. There was Reddy Fox grinning at him. “What trick?” he demanded.
“Why, that old Grouse was just fooling you!” replied Reddy. “There was nothing the matter with her. She was just pretending. She had a whole family of young ones hidden close by the place where you first saw her. My, but you are easy!”
“Let’s go right back there!” cried Tommy.
“No use. Not the least bit,” declared Reddy. “It’s too late. Let’s go over on the meadows and hunt for mice.”
Together they trotted over to the Green Meadows. All through the grass were private little paths made by the mice. The grass hung over them so that they were more like tunnels than paths. Reddy crouched down by one which smelled very strong of mouse. Tommy crouched down by another.