The Mystery of the Monster Mountain - M. V. Carey [17]
“What a dreadful idea!” exclaimed Mr. Smathers. “Absolutely barbarous! Oh, I know that people do make house pets of skunks and remove the scent glands. And what happens then?”
“Nothing,” said Pete. “Nothing happens. That’s why the scent glands are removed
— so that nothing can happen.”
“Typical human reasoning,” said Smathers. “You take an animal that has been provided by nature with a perfect defense system and remove that system. The animal becomes helpless — completely dependent on the human since it can’t defend itself.
Then the human proudly says that he owns the animal, as if one creature could own another. Perfectly dreadful!”
The boys were silent, a bit startled by the violence of Mr. Smathers’ tone.
“Now,” said Smathers, after a moment, “if people would only use their brains and take the time to understand their fellow creatures, there wouldn’t be any need for that sort of savagery. We could all go into the wilderness, provided we minded our manners, and we could visit with our wild friends there. We would have the decency to permit them their freedom.”
Mr. Smathers took a paper sack out of his pocket and poured a few peanuts out of it into the palm of his hand. “Be still and I’ll show you,” he told the boys. He pursed his lips and let out a chirruping sound.
A blue jay wheeled overhead, circled the campground once, and lighted at Smathers’ feet. The bird ignored the boys and screeched once at Smathers.
“Not so fast,” said Smathers. “Wait for the others.”
The jay scolded him.
“It won’t be long,” Smathers told the bird. “Have a little patience, if you please.”
A ground squirrel appeared and scampered to Smathers. The jay shrieked impatiently at the squirrel, and the squirrel chattered back in an irritated way.
“Don’t quarrel,” said Smathers. “There’s plenty for everyone.”
The squirrel stopped chattering and began to rub its face with its forepaws in an embarrassed fashion.
Two chipmunks darted across the
clearing, almost scampering over Pete’s
toes.
“Ah, there you are at last!” said
Smathers. “All right. We can begin.”
The squirrel waited while Smathers
held out the nuts to the jay. The jay
snapped up two nuts, then hopped a foot
or two away while Smathers fed the
squirrel. Then the chipmunks took their
turn.
“You see,” said Smathers to the boys,
“they will give way to one another if only
you explain things to them properly. No
shoving. No snatching.”
The boys didn’t speak, but Jupe
nodded.
When the chipmunks had munched
the last of the nuts, Smathers dismissed
the animals much as a schoolmaster might
dismiss a class. The jay flew to the top of
a big pine, lighted there for a second, and
squawked loudly. Then it flew away. The
squirrel ran to hide under a heap of stones on the bank of the creek, and the chipmunks scampered off into the trees.
“I’m spoiling them, of course,” said Smathers. “But then, every creature can use a little spoiling once in a while.”
“Yes, you are spoiling them,” said Jupe. “In the national parks the rangers always warn visitors not to feed the animals. They forget how to find their own food if too many people give them nuts and popcorn and things like that.”
“That’s why I hate to go to the national parks.” snapped Mr. Smathers. “Stupid people line up everywhere with their hands full of civilized trash that they shove at the wild things, and the animals gorge themselves. Then, when winter comes, the people go home and don’t worry for a second about the harm they’ve done, and a lot of the animals starve. That’s murder, just as surely as shooting a deer with a rifle is murder. I only bring a few nuts to my friends, and I’ve warned the squirrel and those chipmunks about taking food from strangers. They understand what can happen. They know that I’m only giving them a little treat. It’s much the same as buying an ice cream cone for a favorite nephew.”
“I see,” said Bob. “You’ve explained to the animals that they’ve got to watch out for people. And you