AMERICAN FORESTRY 171 



MAMMY COTTONTAIL AND TROUBLE 



BY ALLEN CHAFFEE 



AUTHOR OF 



" THE ADVENTURES OF TWINKLY EYES," THE LITTLE BLACK BEAR 



(WITH ILLUSTRATION BY PETER DA RU) 



III. A VISIT TO THE VALLEY FARM 



THE cabbage the boy was throwing to the chickens had been frozen, but that made no difference to Mammy 

 Cottontail. It was a delicious odor for a bunny hungry enough to eat dry bark. And her moutn 

 watered at the thought of how a leaf would taste. How long the winter had been, with its cold and hunger 

 and its fear of death, as one enemy after another had tried to catch her And memories came of the long sum- 

 mer days in the cabbage patch in the clearing, when she had feasted fat all day long, hiding under the giant 

 leaves. There, not even the boy from the Valley Farm could find her, when she chose to play hide and seek. 



Wriggling her little black nose this way and that to sniff that cabbage aroma, she ventured around the old 

 stone wall and across the snow that had drifted over the barn-yard fence. It was a cheery scene. Not only 

 were the chickens clucking over the unexpected meal of green stuff, but the cows and sheep and horses in the 

 barn were munching and crunching and enjoying their suppers, as the boy passed from one stall to another. 



Even Lop Ear, the Hound and Barnyard Thomas had their bones, which they mouthed with much growling 

 and licking of chops as they eyed one another. 



Mammy Cottontail crept just behind the gate post, and there she crouched, so motionless that the boy had to 

 look twice before he realized she was not just a knobby little chunk of wood. 



When he did see her, he tossed a juicy cabbage leaf her way. 



"Hello, there, is that you, Bunny?" he called softly. "I'll bet you came because you smelled the cabbage, 

 didn't you?" 



This was too much for Mammy. She didn't understand the words, but she did his action, and she crept a 

 little nearer. The best of us are bound to be rash sometimes, and there is nothing much harder than to watch 

 others eat when you are hungry. 



Now the door to the cow stable was opened, and the milking pails brought forth. The cat, at least, had 

 gone, though just where, Mammy had not seen. 



"Isn't it mild this evening, Father?" asked the boy, as the farmer came down to pitch hay for the horses. 

 "Wish you'd let me drive the cows outside, where it is lighter, while we milk them!" 



"Go ahead," said the farmer, gazing off at the red glow of the sunset, which had piled rose and purple 

 clouds above the snowy horizon. 



And the next thing Mammy knew, the six red cows were trampling the snow in the pasture between her 

 and her orchard. 



Now she was surrounded! 



Yes, sir, Mammy Cottontail had no sooner crept forward for that cabbage leaf than she found herself 

 surrounded. On one side was the barn, on the second the circle of red cows, while on the third her escape was 

 cut off at this moment by Barn-yard Tom, whom she spied creeping toward her along the top of the fence. 

 In the only direction left, the Hound sprang up with a yip of delight as she made a wild dash to get past him. 

 There seemed to be no way out! And the cabbage not yet tasted for which she had risked the safety of her Old 

 Apple Orchard! 



If she had not been faint from hunger, she might have ventured a straight-away race with the Hound. 

 But she was weak and famished, and besides, the snow had covered all her favorite hiding places. Things 

 certainly looked bad for Mammy Cottontail! 



Then, swift as a streak of lightning, mammy turned and darted between the legs of the six red cows! 



Now the cows hated Lop Ear the Hount. Distrusting him at best, when he came baying at them full tilt 

 after Mammy, they over-turned their milking pails and gathered in a circle, lowering their horns at him and 

 mooing their displeasure. 



"Here! Lop Ear! Home with you!" commanded the farmer sternly. And the spotted hound, afraid to 

 disobey, gave up the chase, and slunk crest-fallen back to the farm house porch, where he sulked with nose 

 between his paws, even when the boy poured the foam from the milk pails into his pan. 



Meantime Mammy made good her escape. And that night the boy followed her tracks to the orchard by 

 the light of the moon, and left her a cabbage as big as herself. And for many nights thereafter he remem- 

 bered his tiny neighbor, as he did Chickadee, till spring had once more spread her feast of plenty for the 

 furred and feathered folk. 



{All rights reserved by Allen Chaffee.) 



