“Who remembers the name of the
order to which all members of the Deer family belong?”
asked Old Mother Nature.
“I remember what it means, but
not the name,” spoke up Happy Jack Squirrel.
“It means hoofed.”
“It is Un—Un-Ungu—”
began Peter Rabbit and then stopped. For the
life of him he couldn’t think of the rest.
“Ungulata,” Old Mother
Nature finished for him. “And Happy Jack
has the meaning right. It is the order to which
all hoofed animals belong. There are several
families in the order, one of which you already have
learned about—the Deer family. Now
comes the family of Cattle and Sheep. It is
called the Bovidae family, and the biggest and most
important member is Thunderfoot the Bison, commonly
called Buffalo.
“Thunderfoot is more closely
related to Bossy, Farmer Brown’s Cow, than are
the members of the Deer family, for he has true horns,
not antlers. These are hollow and are not dropped
each year, but are carried through life. Mrs.
Thunderfoot has them also. The horns grow out
from the sides of the forehead and then curve upward
and inward, and are smooth and sharp. They are
never branched.
“Thunderfoot is a great, heavy
fellow the size of Farmer Brown’s Ox, and has
a great hump on his shoulders. He carries his
head low and from his throat hangs a great beard.
His head is large and is so covered with thick, curly
hair that it appears much larger than it really is.
His tail is rather short and ends in a tassel of
hair. The hair on his body and hind quarters
is short and light brown, but on his shoulders and
neck and his fore legs to the knees it is long and
shaggy, dark brown above and almost black below.”
“He must be a queer looking
fellow,” spoke up Chatterer the Red Squirrel.
“He is,” replied Old Mother
Nature. “The front half of him looks so
much bigger than the rear half that it almost seems
as if they didn’t belong together.”
“What does he eat?” asked Jumper the Hare.
“Grass,” replied Old Mother
Nature promptly. “He grazes just as does
Bossy. When the weather becomes hot his thick
coat, although much of it has been shed, becomes most
uncomfortable. Also he is tormented by flies.
Then he delights in rolling in mud until he is plastered
with it from head to feet.
“Many years ago there were more
Bison than any other large animal in this country,
and they were found in nearly all parts of it.
Some lived in the woods and were called Wood Buffaloes,
but the greatest number lived on the great plains
and prairies, where the grass was plentiful.
I have told you about the great herd of Barren Ground
Caribou, but this is nothing to the great herds of
Bison that used to move north or south, according to
the season, across the great prairies. In the
fall they moved south. In the spring they moved
north, following the new grass as it appeared.
When they galloped, the noise of their feet was like
thunder.
“But the hunters with terrible
guns came and killed them for their skins, killed
them by hundreds of thousands, and in just a few years
those great herds became only a memory. Thunderfoot,
once Lord of the Prairies, was driven out of all his
great kingdom, and the Bison, from being the most
numerous of all large animals, is to-day reduced to
just a few hundreds, and most of these are kept in
parks by man. Barely in time did man make laws
to protect Thunderfoot. Without this protection
he would not exist to-day.
“A close neighbor of Thunderfoot’s
in the days when he was Lord of the Prairies was Fleetfoot
the Antelope. Fleetfoot is about the size of
a small Deer, and in his graceful appearance reminds
one of Lightfoot, for he has the same trim body and
long slim legs. He is built for speed and looks
it. From just a glance at him you would know
him for a runner just as surely as a look at Jumper
the Hare would tell you that he must travel in great
bounds. The truth is, Fleetfoot is the fastest
runner among all my children in this country.
Not one can keep up with him in a race.
“Fleetfoot’s coat is a
light yellowish-brown on the back and white underneath.
His forehead is brown and the sides of his face white.
His throat and under side of his neck are white, crossed
by two bands of brown. His hoofs, horns and
eyes are black, and there is a black spot under each
ear. Near the end of his nose he is also black,
and down the back of his neck is a black line of stiff
longer hairs. A large white patch surrounds
his short tail. Who remembers what I told you
about Antelope Jack, the big Jack Hare of the Southwest?”
“I do!” cried Peter Rabbit
and Jumper the Hare together.
“What was it, Jumper?” asked Old Mother
Nature.
“You said that he has a way
of making the white of his sides seem to grow so that
he seems almost all white, and can signal his friends
in this way,” replied Jumper.
“Quite right,” replied
Old Mother Nature. “I am glad to find that
you remember so well. Fleetfoot does the same
thing with this white patch around his tail.
The hairs are quite long and he can make them spread
out so that that white patch becomes much larger,
and when he is running it can be seen flashing in the
sun long after he is so far away that nothing else
of him can be seen. His eyes are wonderfully
keen, so by means of these white patches he and his
friends can signal each other when they are far apart.
“Fleetfoot has true horns, but
they are unlike any other horns in that they are shed
every year, just like the antlers of the Deer family.
They grow straight up just over the eyes, are rather
short, and fork. One branch is much shorter
than the other, and the longer one is turned over
at the end like a hook. From these horns he gets
the name of Pronghorn.
“When running from danger he
carries his head low and makes long leaps. When
not frightened he trots and holds his head high and
proudly. He prefers flat open country, and there
is no more beautiful sight on all the great plains
of the West than a band of Fleetfoot and his friends.
He is social and likes the company of his own kind.
“The time was when these beautiful
creatures were almost as numerous as the Bison, but
like the latter they have been killed until now there
is real danger that unless man protects them better
than he is doing there will come a day when the last
Antelope will be killed, and one of the most beautiful
and interesting of all my children will be but a memory.”
There was a note of great sadness
in Old Mother Nature’s voice. For a few
minutes no one spoke. All were thinking of the
terrible thing that had happened at the hands of man
to the great hosts of two of the finest animals in
all this great land, the Bison and Antelope, and there
was bitterness in the heart of each one, for there
was not one there who did not himself have cause to
fear man.
Old Mother Nature was the first to
break the silence. “Now,” said she,
“I will tell you of the oddest member of the
Cattle and Sheep family. It is Longcoat the
Musk Ox, and he appears to belong wholly neither to
the Cattle nor the Sheep branch of the family, but
to both. He connects the two branches in appearance,
reminding one somewhat of a small Bison and at the
same time having things about him very like a Sheep.
“Longcoat the Musk Ox lives
in the Farthest North, the land of snow and ice.
He has been found very near the Arctic Ocean, and
how he finds enough to eat in the long winter is a
mystery to those who know that snow-covered land.
He is a heavily built, round-bodied animal with short,
stout legs, shoulders so high that they form a hump,
a low-hung head and sheeplike face, heavy horns which
are flat and broad at the base and meet at the center
of the forehead, sweeping down on each side of the
head and then turning up in sharp points. His
tail is so short that it is hidden in the long hair
which covers him.
“This hair is so long that it
hangs down on each side so that often it touches the
snow and hides his legs nearly down to his feet.
In color it is very dark-brown, almost black, and
on his sides is straight. But on his shoulders
it is curly. In the middle of the back is a
patch of shorter dull-gray hair.
“Underneath this coat of long
hair is another coat of woolly, fine light-brown hair,
so close that neither cold nor rain can get through
it. It is this warm coat that makes it possible
for him to live in that terribly cold region.
He is about twice as heavy as a big Deer. At
times he gives off a musky odor, and it is from this
that he gets his name of Musk Ox.
“Longcoat is seldom found alone,
but usually with a band of his friends. This
is partly for protection from his worst enemies, the
Wolves. When the latter appear, Longcoat and
his friends form a circle with their heads out, and
it is only a desperately hungry Wolf that will try
to break through that line of sharp-pointed horns.
“In rough, rocky country he
is as sure-footed as a Sheep. In the short summer
of that region he finds plenty to eat, but in winter
he has to paw away the snow to get at the moss and
other plants buried beneath it. Practically
all other animals living so far North have white coats,
but Longcoat retains his dark coat the year through.
“My, how time flies! This
is all for to-day. To-morrow I will tell you
of two wonderful mountain climbers who go with ease
where even man cannot follow.”