When he has discovered a rotten
tree in which wild bees have hidden their store, he will claw at the
bottom till it falls. Curling one paw under the log he sinks the claws
deep into the wood. The other paw grips the log opposite the first,
and a single wrench lays it open. The clouds of angry insects about
his head meanwhile are as little regarded as so many flies. He knows
the thickness of his skin, and they know it. When the honey is at last
exposed, and begins to disappear in great hungry mouthfuls, the bees
also fall upon it, to gorge themselves with the fruit of their hard
labor before Mooween shall have eaten it all.
Everything eatable in the woods ministers at times to Mooween's need.
Nuts and berries are favorite dishes in their season. When these and
other delicacies fail, he knows where to dig for edible roots. A big
caribou, wandering near his hiding place, is pulled down and stunned
by a blow on the head. Then, when the meat has lost its freshness, he
will hunt for an hour after a wood-mouse he has seen run under a
stone, or pull a rotten log to pieces for the ants and larvae concealed
within.
These last are favorite dishes with him. In a burned district, where
ants and berries abound, one is continually finding charred logs, in
which the ants nest by thousands, split open from end to end.
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