Followers of the Trail

by Zoe Meyer

The twins were born one blustery winter day in a den hollowed out beneath the roots of a giant beech. They were woolly black bear cubs, who at birth were blind and no larger than kittens. With nothing to do but to eat and sleep, they grew rapidly. Outside in the forest the gales howled and the snow drifted deep, but the cave was well protected and the great bulk of Mother Bruin kept it warm and of an even temperature.

Before the snow had disappeared the old bear left the cave each day, driven forth by hunger after her long winter fast, but the cubs remained at home until the north wind with its blizzards was forced to retreat before the balmy wind of the south. Then they tumbled out into the sunshine, blinking and rubbing their eyes with their little black paws at the abrupt change from dusk to bright daylight.

It was a wonderful world in which they found themselves. Patches of snow still lingered in the hollows, but the earth was rapidly discarding its brown winter mantle, replacing it with one of living green. The gracefully drooping branches of a group of birch trees standing beside the stream were delicately filmed with green; the air was sweet with the breath of arbutus; and from a tree close beside the swollen brook drifted the six plaintive notes of a white-throated sparrow.

Scraping away the dry leaves under a beech tree, Mother Bruin disclosed a few of the little three-cornered nuts, moldy from their long contact with the earth but, nevertheless, acceptable food for a bear. A little farther on she dug for roots in the soft mud at the edge of a swamp, now vocal with the spring call of the hylas. The cubs followed her, full of curiosity concerning everything they beheld in this new and fascinating world.

Several weeks later, while the Hermit was roaming the woods with his familiar brown bag upon his back, he was granted the rare privilege of watching the bear family when the three were unaware of his presence. Mother Bruin, as usual, was leading the way, the cubs, as like as two peas, following single file in her footsteps and imitating her every move so faithfully that the Hermit chuckled to himself. When the big bear halted and looked about her, the small bears also halted and looked eagerly about; when she sniffed at a fallen log, they, too, sniffed; and once when she sneezed, the cubs looked curiously at her and then tried faithfully to imitate the sound.

The ants were busy making their community dwellings and when Mother Bruin paused to lick up a mouthful, two little red tongues joined hers, the cubs smacking their lips over the treat. At length, their hunger satisfied, the family stopped under a great pine and the cubs began a rough and tumble game, while Mother Bruin sat on her haunches, keenly watchful of every move. Occasionally, for no reason which the Hermit could detect, one or the other of the cubs would receive a boxing from his mother which would set him howling. The punishment was soon forgotten, however, and it is to be hoped that it did them good. Over and over they rolled on the brown pine needles, two furry balls cuffing and biting at each other. Then they paused and sat up panting, exactly as Mother Bruin was sitting.

The effect was so ludicrous that the Hermit had much ado to keep from laughing aloud, but he also had a wholesome fear of Mother Bruin when she felt that her cubs might be in danger. So he stifled the laugh that would have betrayed his presence and at length slipped unobtrusively away.

While shambling through the forest one day Mother Bruin made a wonderful discovery. She came to a tree which had recently fallen to the forest floor and from within came a curious humming. She stopped abruptly to listen, her great head cocked to one side and her eyes shining with anticipation. The cubs also paused, cocked their heads upon one side and waited expectantly. Mother Bruin soon assured herself that there could be no mistake. With her terrible claws she ripped open the rotting log, disclosing a mass of well-filled honey-comb and liberating a great swarm of bees. The air was soon filled with their angry buzzing.

The cubs decided that the spot was not a healthful one and retreated to the bushes, but Mother Bruin paid no attention to the enraged owners of the hive. For a few moments the cubs watched wonderingly; then the tree with its appetizing odour called them and they shambled up to it, the bees being too busy carrying away their store to bother them.

One of the cubs thrust a little black paw into the mass of amber honey and then, as any child would have done, transferred the paw to his mouth. Immediately there spread over his comical little face a look of utter happiness. The other cub, seeing her brother thus pleasantly engaged, lost no time in following his example and the two were soon smeared with honey from top to toe. Never were little bears happier.