<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[Pg 110]</SPAN></span></p>
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<h2>THE LONELY OLD BACHELOR MUSKRAT</h2>
<p>Beyond the forest and beside the
river lay the marsh where the Muskrats
lived. This was the same marsh
to which the young Frog had taken
some of the meadow people's children
when they were tired of staying at home
and wanted to travel. When they went
with him, you remember, they were gay
and happy, the sun was shining, and the
way did not seem long. When they
came back they were cold and wet and
tired, and thought it very far indeed.
One could never get them to say much
about it.</p>
<p>Some people like what others do not,
and one's opinion of a marsh must<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[Pg 111]</SPAN></span>
always depend on whether he is a Grasshopper
or a Frog. But whether people
cared to live there or not, the marsh had
always been a pleasant place to see.
In the spring the tall tamaracks along
the edge put on their new dresses of
soft, needle-shaped green leaves, the
marsh-marigolds held their bright faces
up to the sun, and hundreds of happy
little people darted in and out of the
tussocks of coarse grass. There was a
warm, wet, earthy smell in the air, and
near the pussy-willows there was also a
faint bitterness.</p>
<p>Then the Marsh Hens made their
nests, and the Sand-pipers ran mincingly
along by the quiet pools.</p>
<p>In summer time the beautiful moccasin
flowers grew in family groups, and over
in the higher, dryer part were masses
of white boneset, tall spikes of creamy
foxglove, and slender, purple vervain.
In the fall the cat-tails stood stiffly<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[Pg 112]</SPAN></span>
among their yellow leaves, and the Red-winged
Blackbirds and the Bobolinks
perched upon them to plan their journey
to the south.</p>
<p>Even when the birds were gone and
the cat-tails were ragged and worn—even
then, the marsh was an interesting place.
Soft snow clung to the brown seed clusters
of boneset and filled the open silvery-gray
pods of the milkweed. In among
the brown tussocks of grass ran the
dainty footprints of Mice and Minks,
and here and there rose the cone-shaped
winter homes of the Muskrats.</p>
<p>The Muskrats were the largest people
there, and lived in the finest homes. It
is true that if a Mink and a Muskrat
fought, the Mink was likely to get the
better of the Muskrat, but people never
spoke of this, although everybody knew
that it was so. The Muskrats were too
proud to do so, the Minks were too wise
to, and the smaller people who lived near<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[Pg 113]</SPAN></span>
did not want to offend the Muskrats by
mentioning it. It is said that an impudent
young Mouse did say something
about it once when the Muskrats could
overhear him and that not one of them
ever spoke to him again. The next time
he said "Good-evening" to a Muskrat,
the Muskrat just looked at him as though
he didn't see him or as though he had
been a stick or a stone or something else
uneatable and uninteresting.</p>
<p>The Muskrats were very popular, for
they were kind neighbors and never stole
their food from others. That was why
nobody was jealous of them, although
they were so fat and happy. Their children
usually turned out very well, even
if they were not at all strictly brought up.
You know when a father and mother
have to feed and care for fifteen or so
children each summer, there is not much
time for teaching them to say "please"
and "thank you" and "pardon me."<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[Pg 114]</SPAN></span>
Sometimes these young Muskrats did
snatch and quarrel, as on that night when
fifteen of them went to visit their old
home and all wanted to go in first. You
may recall how, on that dreadful night,
their father had to spank them with his
scaly tail and their mother sent them to
bed. They always remembered it, and
you may be very sure their parents did.
It makes parents feel dreadfully when
their children quarrel, and it is very wearing
to have to spank fifteen at once,
particularly when one has to use his tail
with which to do it.</p>
<p>There was one old Bachelor Muskrat
who had always lived for himself, and had
his own way more than was good for him.
If he had married, it would not have been
so, and he would have grown used to
giving up to somebody else. He was a
fine-looking fellow with soft, short, reddish-brown
fur, which shaded almost to
black on his back, and to a light gray un<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[Pg 115]</SPAN></span>derneath.
There were very few hairs on
his long, flat, scaly tail, and most of these
were in two fringes, one down the middle
of the upper side, and the other down the
middle of the lower side. His tiny ears
hardly showed above the fur on his head,
and he was so fat that he really seemed to
have no neck at all. To look at his feet
you would hardly think he could swim,
for the webs between his toes were very,
very small and his feet were not large.</p>
<p>He was like all other Muskrats in using
a great deal of perfume, and it was not
a pleasant kind, being so strong and
musky. He thought it quite right, and
it was better so, for he couldn't help
wearing it, and you can just imagine how
distressing it would be to see a Muskrat
going around with his nose turned up and
all the time finding fault with his own
perfume.</p>
<p>Nobody could remember the time when
there had been no Muskrats in the marsh.<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[Pg 116]</SPAN></span>
The Ground Hog who lived near the edge
of the forest said that his grandfather
had often spoken of seeing them at play
in the moonlight; and there was an old
Rattlesnake who had been married several
times and wore fourteen joints in his rattle,
who said that he remembered seeing
Muskrats there before he cast his first
skin. And it was not strange that, after
their people had lived there so long, the
Muskrats should be fond of the marsh.</p>
<p>One day in midsummer the farmer and
his men came to the marsh with spades
and grub-hoes and measuring lines. All
of them had on high rubber boots, and
they tramped around and measured and
talked, and rooted up a few huckleberry
bushes, and drove a good many stakes into
the soft and spongy ground. Then the
dinner-bell at the farmhouse rang and,
they went away. It was a dull, cloudy day
and a few of the Muskrats were out. If
it had been sunshiny they would have<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[Pg 117]</SPAN></span>
stayed in their burrows. They paddled
over to where the stakes were, and
smelled of them and gnawed at them,
and wondered why the men had put
them there.</p>
<p>"I know," said one young Muskrat,
who had married and set up a home of
his own that spring. "I know why they
put these stakes in."</p>
<p>"Oh, do listen!" cried the young Muskrat's
wife. "He knows and will tell us
all about it."</p>
<p>"Nobody ever told me this," said the
young husband. "I thought it out myself.
The Ground Hog once said that
they put small pieces of potato into the
ground to grow into whole big ones, and
they have done the same sort of thing
here. You see, the farmer wanted a
fence, and so he stuck down these stakes,
and before winter he will have a fence
well grown."</p>
<p>"Humph!" said the Bachelor Musk<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[Pg 118]</SPAN></span>rat.
It seemed as though he had meant
to say more, but the young wife looked at
him with such a frown on her furry forehead
that he shut his mouth as tightly as
he could (he never could quite close it)
and said nothing else.</p>
<p>"Do you mean to tell me," said one
who had just sent five children out of
her burrow to make room for another lot
of babies, "that they will grow a fence
here where it is so wet? Fences grow on
high land."</p>
<p>"That is what I said," answered the
young husband, slapping his tail on the
water to make himself seem more
important.</p>
<p>"Well," said the anxious mother, "if
they go to growing fences and such
things around here I shall move. Every
one of my children will want to play
around it, and as like as not will eat its
roots and get sick."</p>
<p>Then the men came back and all the<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[Pg 119]</SPAN></span>
Muskrats ran toward their burrows, dived
into the water to reach the doors of
them, and then crawled up the long hallways
that they had dug out of the bank
until they got to the large rooms where
they spent most of their days and kept
their babies.</p>
<p>That night the young husband was the
first Muskrat to come out, and he went
at once to the line of stakes. He had
been lying awake and thinking while his
wife was asleep, and he was afraid he
had talked too much. He found that
the stakes had not grown any, and that
the men had begun to dig a deep ditch
beside them. He was afraid that his
neighbors would point their paws at him
and ask how the fence was growing, and
he was not brave enough to meet them
and say that he had been mistaken. He
went down the river bank and fed alone all
night, while his wife and neighbors were
grubbing and splashing around in the<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[Pg 120]</SPAN></span>
marsh or swimming in the river near their
homes. The young Muskrats were rolling
and tumbling in the moonlight and
looking like furry brown balls. After it
began to grow light, he sneaked back to
his burrow.</p>
<p>Every day the men came in their high
rubber boots to work, and every day
there were more ditches and the marsh
was drier. By the time that the flowers
had all ripened their seeds and the forest
trees were bare, the marsh was changed
to dry ground, and the Muskrats could
find no water there to splash in. One
night, and it was a very, very dark one,
they came together to talk about winter.</p>
<p>"It is time to begin our cold-weather
houses," said one old Muskrat, "I have
never started so soon, but we are to have
an early winter."</p>
<p>"Yes, and a long one, too," added his
wife, who said that Mr. Muskrat never
told things quite strongly enough.<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[Pg 121]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>"It will be cold," said another Muskrat,
"and we shall need to build thick
walls."</p>
<p>"Why?" asked a little Muskrat.</p>
<p>"Sh!" said his mother.</p>
<p>"The question is," said the old Muskrat
who had first spoken, "where we shall
build."</p>
<p>"Why?" asked the little Muskrat,
pulling at his mother's tail.</p>
<p>"Sh-h!" said his mother.</p>
<p>"There is no water here except in the
ditches," said the oldest Muskrat, "and
of course we would not build beside
them."</p>
<p>"Why not?" asked the little Muskrat.
And this time he actually poked his
mother in the side.</p>
<p>"Sh-h-h!" said she. "How many times
must I speak to you? Don't you know
that young Muskrats should be seen and
not heard?"</p>
<p>"But I can't be seen," he whimpered.<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[Pg 122]</SPAN></span>
"It is so dark that I can't be seen, and
you've just got to hear me."</p>
<p>Of course, after he had spoken in that
way to his mother and interrupted all the
others by his naughtiness, he had to be
punished, so his mother sent him to bed.
That is very hard for young Muskrats,
for the night, you know, is the time when
they have the most fun.</p>
<p>The older ones talked and talked about
what they should do. They knew, as
they always do know, just what sort of
winter they were to have, and that they
must begin to build at once. Some years
they had waited until a whole month
later, but that was because they expected
a late and mild winter. At last the oldest
Muskrat decided for them. "We
will move to-morrow night," said he.
"We will go to the swamp on the other
side of the forest and build our winter
homes there."</p>
<p>All the Muskrats felt sad about going,<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[Pg 123]</SPAN></span>
and for a minute it was so still that you
might almost have heard a milkweed
seed break loose from the pod and float
away. Then a gruff voice broke the
silence. "I will not go," it said. "I
was born here and I will live here. I
never have left this marsh and I never
will leave it."</p>
<p>They could not see who was speaking,
but they knew it was the Bachelor. The
oldest Muskrat said afterward that he
was so surprised you could have knocked
him over with a blade of grass. Of
course, you couldn't have done it, because
he was so fat and heavy, but that
is what he said, and it shows just how
he felt.</p>
<p>The other Muskrats talked and talked
and talked with him, but it made no
difference. His brothers told him it was
perfectly absurd for him to stay, that
people would think it queer, and that he
ought to go with the rest of his relatives.<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[Pg 124]</SPAN></span>
Yet it made no difference. "You should
stay," he would reply. "Our family have
always lived here."</p>
<p>When the Muskrat mothers told him
how lonely he would be, and how he
would miss seeing the dear little ones
frolic in the moonlight, he blinked and
said: "Well, I shall just have to stand
it." Then he sighed, and they went away
saying to each other what a tender heart
he had and what a pity it was that he had
never married. One of them spoke as
though he had been in love with her some
years before, but the others had known
nothing about it.</p>
<p>The Muskrat fathers told him that he
would have no one to help him if a Mink
should pick a quarrel with him. "I can
take care of myself then," said he, and
showed his strong gnawing teeth in a
very fierce way.</p>
<p>It was only when the dainty young
Muskrat daughters talked to him that he<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[Pg 125]</SPAN></span>
began to wonder if he really ought to
stay. He lay awake most of one day
thinking about it and remembering the
sad look in their little eyes when they
said that they should miss him. He was
so disturbed that he ate only three small
roots during the next night. The poor
old Bachelor had a hard time then, but
he was so used to having his own way
and doing what he had started to do, and
not giving up to anybody, that he stayed
after all.</p>
<p>The others went away and he began to
build his winter house beside the biggest
ditch. He placed it among some bushes,
so that if the water in the ditch should
ever overflow they would help hold his
house in place. He built it with his
mouth, bringing great mouthfuls of grass
roots and rushes and dropping them on
the middle of the heap. Sometimes they
stayed there and sometimes they rolled
down. If they rolled down he never<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[Pg 126]</SPAN></span>
brought them back, for he knew that
they would be useful where they were.
When it was done, the house was shaped
like a pine cone with the stem end down,
for after he had made it as high as a tall
milkweed he finished off the long slope
up which he had been running and made
it look like the other sides.</p>
<p>After that he began to burrow up into
it from below. The right way to do, he
knew, was to have his doorway under
water and dive down to it. Other winters
he had done this and had given the water
a loud slap with his tail as he dived.
Now there was not enough water to dive
into, and when he tried slapping on it
his tail went through to the ditch bottom
and got muddy. He had to fix
the doorway as best he could, and then
he ate out enough of the inside of his
house to make a good room and poked a
small hole through the roof to let in
fresh air.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[Pg 127]</SPAN></span></p>
<div class="figcenter"> <ANTIMG src="images/chap09.jpg" width-obs="400" height-obs="640" alt="THE MARSH SEEMED SO EMPTY AND LONELY." title="" /> <span class="caption">THE MARSH SEEMED SO EMPTY AND LONELY.</span> <p style='text-align:right'><i>Page 127</i></p> </div>
<p>After the house was done, he slept
there during the days and prowled around
outside at night. He slept there, but ate
none of the roots of which it was made
until the water in the ditch was frozen
hard. He knew that there would be a
long, long time when he could not dig
fresh roots and must live on those.</p>
<p>At night the marsh seemed so empty
and lonely that he hardly knew what
to do. He didn't enjoy his meals, and
often complained to the Mice that the
roots did not taste so good to him as
those they used to have when he was
young. He tried eating other things and
found them no better. When there was
bright moonlight, he sat upon the highest
tussock he could find and thought
about his grandfathers and grandmothers.
"If they had not eaten their houses," he
once said to a Mouse, "this marsh would
be full of them."</p>
<p>"No it wouldn't," answered the Mouse,<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[Pg 128]</SPAN></span>
who didn't really mean to contradict him,
but thought him much mistaken. "If
the houses hadn't been eaten, they would
have been blown down by the wind and
beaten down by rains and washed away
by floods. It is better so. Who wants
things to stay the way they are forever
and ever? I'd rather see the trees drop
their leaves once in a while and grow
new ones than to wear the same old ones
after they are ragged and faded."</p>
<p>The Bachelor Muskrat didn't like this
very well, but he couldn't forget it.
When he awakened in the daytime he
would think about it and at night he
thought more. He was really very forlorn,
and because he had nobody else to
think about he thought too much of himself
and began to believe that he was lame and
sick. When he sat on a tussock and remembered
all the houses which his grandparents
had built and eaten, he became
very sad and sighed until his fat sides<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[Pg 129]</SPAN></span>
shook. He wished that he could sleep
through the winter like the Ground Hog,
or through part of it like the Skunk, but
just as sure as night came his eyes popped
open and there he was—awake.</p>
<p>When spring came he thought of his
friends who had gone to the swamp and
he knew that last year's children were
marrying and digging burrows of their
own. The poor old Bachelor wanted to
go to them, yet he was so used to doing
what he had said he would, and disliked
so much to let anybody know that he was
mistaken, that he chose to stay where he
was, without water enough for diving and
with hardly enough for swimming. How
it would have ended nobody knows, had
the farmer not come to plough up the old
drained marsh for planting celery.</p>
<p>Then the Bachelor went. He reached
his new home in the early morning, and
the mothers let their children stay up until
it was quite light so that he might see<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[Pg 130]</SPAN></span>
them plainly. "Isn't it pleasant here?"
they cried. "Don't you like it better
than the old place?"</p>
<p>"Oh, it does very well," he answered,
"but you must remember that I only
moved because I had to."</p>
<p>"Oh, yes, we understand that," said one
of the mothers, "but we hope you will
really like it here."</p>
<p>Afterward her husband said to her,
"Don't you know he was glad to come?
What's the use of being so polite?"</p>
<p>"Poor old fellow," she answered. "He
is so queer because he lives alone, and
I'm sorry for him. Just see him eat."</p>
<p>And truly it was worth while to watch
him, for the roots tasted sweet to him,
and, although he had not meant to be, he
was very happy—far happier than if he
had had his own way.</p>
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