SUMMER WOODS
STILL HUNTING
WINTER TRAILS
SNOW BOUND
GLOSSARY OF INDIAN NAMES

SECRETS OF THE WOODS

TOOKHEES THE 'FRAID ONE

Little Tookhees the wood mouse, the 'Fraid One, as Simmo calls him,
always makes two appearances when you squeak to bring him out. First,
after much peeking, he runs out of his tunnel; sits up once on his hind
legs; rubs his eyes with his paws; looks up for the owl, and behind him
for the fox, and straight ahead at the tent where the man lives; then
he dives back headlong into his tunnel with a rustle of leaves and a
frightened whistle, as if Kupkawis the little owl had seen him. That is
to reassure himself. In a moment he comes back softly to see what kind
of crumbs you have given him.

No wonder Tookhees is so timid, for there is no place in earth or air or
water, outside his own little doorway under the mossy stone, where he is
safe. Above him the owls watch by night and the hawks by day; around him
not a prowler of the wilderness, from Mooween the bear down through a
score of gradations, to Kagax the bloodthirsty little weasel, but will
sniff under every old log in the hope of finding a wood mouse; and if he
takes a swim, as he is fond of doing, not a big trout in the river but
leaves his eddy to rush at the tiny ripple holding bravely across the
current. So, with all these enemies waiting to catch him the moment he
ventures out, Tookhees must needs make one or two false starts in order
to find out where the coast is clear.

That is why he always dodges back after his first appearance; why he
gives you two or three swift glimpses of himself, now here, now there,
before coming out into the light. He knows his enemies are so hungry, so
afraid he will get away or that somebody else will catch him, that they
jump for him the moment he shows a whisker. So eager are they for his
flesh, and so sure, after missing him, that the swoop of wings or the
snap of red jaws has scared him into permanent hiding, that they pass on
to other trails. And when a prowler, watching from behind a stump, sees
Tookhees flash out of sight and hears his startled squeak, he thinks
naturally that the keen little eyes have seen the tail, which he forgot
to curl close enough, and so sneaks away as if ashamed of himself. Not
even the fox, whose patience is without end, has learned the wisdom of
waiting for Tookhees' second appearance. And that is the salvation of
the littl