“As sure as you’re alive
now, Peter Rabbit, some day I will catch you,”
snarled Reddy Fox, as he poked his black nose in the
hole between the roots of the Big Hickory-tree which
grows close to the Smiling Pool. “It is
lucky for you that you were not one jump farther away
from this hole.”
Peter, safe inside that hole, didn’t
have a word to say, or, if he did, he didn’t
have breath enough to say it. It was quite true
that if he had been one jump farther from that hole,
Reddy Fox would have caught him. As it was,
the hairs on Peter’s funny white tail actually
had tickled Reddy’s back as Peter plunged frantically
through the root-bound entrance to that hole.
It had been the narrowest escape Peter had had for
a long, long time. You see, Reddy Fox had surprised
Peter nibbling sweet clover on the bank of the Smiling
Pond, and it had been a lucky thing for Peter that
that hole, dug long ago by Johnny Chuck’s grandfather,
had been right where it was. Also, it was a
lucky thing that old Mr. Chuck had been wise enough
to make the entrance between the roots of that tree
in such a way that it could not be dug any larger.
Reddy Fox was too shrewd to waste
any time trying to dig it larger. He knew there
wasn’t room enough for him to get between those
roots. So, after trying to make Peter as uncomfortable
as possible by telling him what he, Reddy, would do
to him when he did catch him, Reddy trotted off across
the Green Meadows. Peter remained where he was
for a long time. When he was quite sure that it
was safe to do so, he crept out and hurried, lipperty-lipperty-lip,
up to the Old Orchard. He felt that that would
be the safest place for him, because there were ever
so many hiding places in the old stone wall along
the edge of it.
When Peter reached the Old Orchard,
who should he see but Jenny Wren. Jenny had
arrived that very morning from the Sunny South where
she had spent the winter. “Tut, tut, tut,
tut, tut!” exclaimed Jenny as soon as she saw
Peter. “If here isn’t Peter Rabbit
himself! How did you manage to keep out of the
clutches of Reddy Fox all the long winter?”
Peter chuckled. “I didn’t
have much trouble with Reddy during the winter,”
said he, “but this very morning he so nearly
caught me that it is a wonder that my hair is not
snow white from fright.” Then he told Jenny
all about his narrow escape. “Had it not
been for that handy hole of Grandfather Chuck, I couldn’t
possibly have escaped,” concluded Peter.
Jenny Wren cocked her pert little
head on one side, and her sharp little eyes snapped.
“Why don’t you learn to swim, Peter, like
your cousin down in the Sunny South?” she demanded.
“If he had been in your place, he would simply
have plunged into the Smiling Pool and laughed at
Reddy Fox.”
Peter sat bolt upright with his eyes
very wide open. In them was a funny look of
surprise as he stared up at Jenny Wren. “What
are you talking about, Jenny Wren?” he demanded.
“Don’t you know that none of the Rabbit
family swim unless it is to cross the Laughing Brook
when there is no other way of getting to the other
side, or when actually driven into the water by an
enemy from whom there is no other escape? I
can swim a little if I have to, but you don’t
catch me in the water when I can stay on land.
What is more, you won’t find any other members
of my family doing such a thing.”
“Tut, tut, tut, tut, Peter!”
exclaimed Jenny Wren in her sharp, scolding voice.
“Tut, tut, tut, tut! For a fellow who
has been so curious about the ways of his feathered
neighbors, you know very little about your own family.
If I were in your place I would learn about my own
relatives before I became curious about my neighbors.
How many relatives have you, Peter?”
“One,” replied Peter promptly,
“my big cousin, Jumper the Hare.”
Jenny Wren threw back her head and
laughed and laughed and laughed. It was a most
irritating and provoking laugh. Finally Peter
began to lose patience. “What are you
laughing at?” he demanded crossly. “You
know very well that Jumper the Hare is the only cousin
I have.”
Jenny Wren laughed harder that ever.
“Peter!” she gasped.
“Peter, you will be the death of me. Why,
down in the Sunny South, where I spent the winter,
you have a cousin who is more closely related to you
than Jumper the Hare. And what is more, he is
almost as fond of the water as Jerry Muskrat.
He was called the Marsh Rabbit or Marsh Hare, and
many a time I have watched him swimming about by the
hour.”
“I don’t believe it!”
declared Peter angrily. “I don’t
believe a word of it. You are simply trying
to fool me, Jenny Wren. There never was a Rabbit
and there never will be a Rabbit who would go swimming
for the fun of it. I belong to the Cottontail
branch of the Hare family, and it is a fine family
if I do say so. My cousin Jumper is a true Hare,
and the only difference between us is that he is bigger,
has longer legs and ears, changes the color of his
coat in winter, and seldom, if ever, goes into holes
in the ground. The idea of trying to tell me
I don’t know about my own relatives.”
Jenny Wren suddenly became sober.
“Peter,” said she very earnestly, “take
my advice and go to school to Old Mother Nature for
awhile. What I have told you is true, every word
of it. You have a cousin down in the Sunny South
who spends half his time in the water. What is
more, I suspect that you and Jumper have other relatives
of whom you’ve never heard. Such ignorance
would be laughable if it were not to be pitied.
This is what comes of never having traveled.
Go to school to Old Mother Nature for a while, Peter.
It will pay you.” With this, Jenny Wren
flew away to hunt for Mr. Wren that they might decide
where to make their home for the summer.
Peter tried to believe that what Jenny
Wren had told him was nothing but a story, but do
what he would, he couldn’t rid himself of a
little doubt. He tried to interest himself in
the affairs of the other little people of Old Orchard,
but it was useless. That little doubt kept growing
and growing. Could it be possible that Jenny
Wren had spoken the truth? Could it be that he
really didn’t know what relatives he had or
anything about them? Of course Old Mother Nature
could tell him all he wanted to know. And he
knew that whatever she might tell him would be true.
Finally that growing doubt, together
with the curiosity which has led poor Peter to do
so many queer things, proved too much for him and
he started for the Green Forest to look for Old Mother
Nature. It didn’t take long to find her.
She was very busy, for there is no time in all the
year when Old Mother Nature has quite so much to do
as in the spring.
“If you please, Old Mother Nature,”
said Peter timidly but very politely, “I’ve
some questions I want to ask you.”
Old Mother Nature’s eyes twinkled
in a kindly way. “All right, Peter,”
she replied. “I guess I can talk and work
at the same time. What is it you want to know?”
“I want to know if it is true
that there are any other members of the Rabbit and
the Hare family besides my big cousin, Jumper, who
lives here in the Green Forest, and myself.”
Old Mother Nature’s eyes twinkled
more than ever. “Why, of course, Peter,”
she replied. “There are several other members.
You ought to know that. But then, I suppose
you don’t because you never have traveled.
It is surprising how little some folks know about
the very things they ought to know most about.”
Peter looked very humble and as if
he felt a little bit foolish. “Is—is—is
it true that way down in the Sunny South I have a
cousin who loves to spend his time in the water?”
stammered Peter.
“It certainly is, Peter,”
replied Old Mother Nature. “He is called
the Marsh Rabbit, and he is more nearly your size,
and looks more like you, than any of your other cousins.”
Peter gulped as if he were swallowing
something that went down hard. “That is
what Jenny Wren said, but I didn’t believe her,”
replied Peter meekly. “She said she had
often watched him swimming about like Jerry Muskrat.”
Old Mother Nature nodded. “Quite
true. Quite true,” said she. “He
is quite as much at home in the water as on land, if
anything a little more so. He is one member
the family who takes to the water, and he certainly
does love it. Is there anything else you want
to know, Peter?”
Peter shifted about uneasily and hesitated.
“What is it, Peter?” asked Old Mother
Nature kindly. “There is nothing in the
Great World equal to knowledge, and if I can add to
your store of it I will be very glad to.”
Peter took heart. “If—if
you please, Mother Nature, I would like to learn all
about my family. May come to school to you every
day?”
Old Mother Nature laughed right out.
“Certainly you may go to school to me, old
Mr. Curiosity,” said she. “It is
a good idea; a very good idea. I’m very
busy, as you can see, but I’m never too busy
to teach those who really want to learn. We’ll
have a lesson here every morning just at sun-up.
I can’t be bothered any more to-day, because
it is late. Run along home to the dear Old Briar-patch
and think up some questions to ask me to-morrow morning.
And, by the way, Peter, I will ask you some questions.
For one thing I shall ask you to tell me all you know
about your own family. Now scamper along and
be here to-morrow morning at sun-up.”
“May I bring my cousin, Jumper
the Hare, if he wants to come?” asked Peter,
as he prepared to obey Old Mother Nature.
“Bring him along and any one
else who wants to learn,” replied Old Mother
Nature kindly.
Peter bade her good-by in his most
polite manner and then scampered as fast as he could
go, lipperty-lipperty-lip, to the dear Old Briar-patch.
There he spent the remainder of the day thinking up
questions and also trying to find out how much he really
did know about his own family.