Svend Fleuron

“ Round the outskirts of the farm the wallflowers crowd in full bloom, flaming and glowing in the nearly risen sun.
A little fox-coloured cat curls in and out among the flowers, sniffing the yellow goose-grass and the purple thyme. With its own inimitable deftness it avoids the dew.
It follows a human “spoor,” the pursuit of which its big brother has long since abandoned on account of its acid smell.
Red reaches a garden; she enters—and now she scents spoor after spoor, all of which lead along the hedge towards a heap of branches, where they stand still for a long time. ”

“ Every thorn that pricks him teases him and fills him with delight. He crawls from branch to branch like a great black caterpillar, while the others, who have long since forgotten all about him, go on with their game.
The rays of the morning sun sweep gleaming over the fields; the barley shines like spun silk, the oats like molten silver, while lake and pond and pit lie like mirrors. The buzzing of flies and the humming of bees rise incessantly into the hot, motionless air; above the burial mound the gnats dance in a swarm. ”

“ Grey sits patiently before her mouse-hole, listening to the faint scratching of its owner’s feet deep down in the earth. The minutes race; her mind is utterly absorbed with the one thrilling subject—mouse!
Presently a distant rumble rises to her ears; grains of sand are rolling down the tunnel. The sound, which no human ear could hope to distinguish, increases in volume until it culminates in a faint flap: a baby mouse with thin white legs and a tail three times as long as its body crouches curled up at the entrance! ”

“ His temper begins to get the better of him and he becomes more and more foolhardy; the rat must look after itself for a bit, while he gives that beast a real scare for once in its life! He races like a mad thing after the bird, from grass tuft to mound, from stone to stone—and when the cunning old crow has tempted the inexperienced hot-head far enough away, it flaps back over his head and bags the spoil of war. ”

“ By chance Black stumbles on the tree where the crow’s nest is situated. Walking along a cross branch he lowers himself into it. It is beautifully soft and comfortable—but, alas! long since empty. A good idea strikes him ... the sunshine is so gloriously warm up here ... why not take his midday nap in the nest!
He lies down and, shutting his eyes, falls into a half-doze, without taking the slightest regard for Tiny, who sits patiently waiting below. Comfortably rolled up on his side, his nose thrust between his thighs, he is wafted dreamily through space. ”

“ A blackbird whistles from a willow and a magpie warbles from the copse; he follows carefully by means of sounds what is happening ... and when all is quiet again, he sneaks on once more—with his faithful follower at his tail-end.
A strong, earthy smell mingled with the scent of flowers fills the tunnels. The two cats have constant difficulty in breathing, and again make towards the outskirts of the copse.
“Madness” is already making for the boundary-hedge when he suddenly sees a young crow, with something heavy in its beak, flap into the top of an elder tree. ”

“ Grey Puss is not at home....
The little kittens swarm up to him. Tiny seeks to drink, while Black and Big make a joyful assault on his swiftly wagging tail. He lowers his nose to each of the little fellows in turn as if tasting their smell. Then, as if suddenly gone mad, he begins clawing about in all directions at the defenceless kittens. Mewing and squealing, they roll away to all sides like lumps of earth—but the he-cat’s frenzy increases.
He seizes Tiny by the mouth, fixes an eyetooth in his scruff and hurtles out of the willow with him. ”

“ CHAPTER ONE GREY PUSS
The May moon is still shining white and round in the sky; but eastward beyond the hills, silhouetting a farmhouse roof, the first faint light of dawn tinges the distant horizon.... Along a hedge leading from the farm a house-cat comes creeping. At intervals it stops and casts a watchful glance behind ... then hurries on again.
The advancing day slowly spreads its wakening touch over the land. In the zenith the sky is already blue, and the stars are going to rest; but all human talk and noise is still buried in the feather-beds of the farm ... ”

“ Shortly afterwards the jester’s white socks peep over the edge of the pail; a pair of yellow-grey ear-tips follow—and now springs into sight a happy, laughing cat-face!
Black’s claws begin to itch; he wants very much to play, but in his own manner. He has been up to the clover stem and smelt it carefully; he has also taken it between his paws, but thrown it away contemptuously. A plant stem, a mere flower, seems to him quite useless; a thistle, on the contrary, which pricks his nose when he smells it is much more exciting. He can at any rate get angry with it. ”

“ In a furry, fighting ball they roll over and over down the hill....
Grey gets on top, and Black suddenly realizes that he is getting the worst of things. He at once brings his hind legs into play and claws his adversary’s stomach and nose mercilessly—in real earnest with naked claws!
Grey wails miserably, and at the sound the whole flock comes rushing forward with joyous recklessness. But Black does not wait for the assault; with doubled-up body and curved tail, he stalks sideways towards them. They expect him to jump, but instead he sticks his claws right into their eyes. ”

“ With one spring he plants all his foreclaws deep in the flesh of the smaller cat, who utters a loud wail and collapses on the ground.
The big one maintains his grip on his defeated foe’s shoulder, crushing him ruthlessly in the dust. Then he presses back his torn ears, giving an even more hateful expression to the evil eyes, and lowering his muzzle, gloatingly he howls his song of victory straight into his fallen rival’s face. ”

“ When Big, Black, and Grey, with White and Tiny in tow, slink out in the gloaming over field and meadow and follow the twisting, irregular paths of the village copse, Red lounges through the field until she meets a human track. ”

“ Why, every straw touched by a cat simply stank!
Box is easy to deceive, and runs right into the trap set for him by the little field tiger.
He has not the slightest idea how it happened—but this he knows: that the clawed she-devil is sitting on his back again, and is already tearing his skin to shreds.
His howls are so loud, and Grey Puss’ growls so deep and threatening, that they are heard at the burial-mound. The kittens start up from their day-doze and, fully understanding what is taking place, begin to strut about with stiff legs and erect tails, uttering little half-growls at intervals. ”

“ He wanders from tree to tree, and not even the densest thicket can resist his progress. He glides through the thorny, jealous heart of a hawthorn copse like a panther, insensate and invulnerable. Tears in skin or snout please him and urge him to greater efforts; it is as if his body cannot feel pain. Black as the branch itself, he lies stretched at full length, searching out the little birds’ homes—and once he catches a glimpse of wings settling in hiding-place or treetop, he never rests satisfied until he has made closer, thorough investigation.
But the old crow defies his strength and skill. ”

“ She longs to move among the cobwebs in the loft once more, to hear the everlasting rushing of the wind through its thatch. Most of all she thinks of the pot-bellied, piebald tomcat, whose drawling, wailing love-song seems to her irresistibly alluring. With every day that passes she seems to hear his pleading voice more and more plainly, and she sees him in her mind’s eye with his restless, swinging tail and his wild, burning eyes.... ”

“ All thoughts of the fair one have gone from their minds. War-cries cease; gasps and grunts of exertion punctuate the struggle; chests heave and ribs dilate with compressed air; whilst naked claws are plunged into skin and flesh. They are one to look at, one circular mass, as they whirl round inextricably interlocked, puffing their reeking breath into one another’s faces.
The spotted devil’s powerful hind legs are wedged in under the red cat’s body. ”

“ The ceaseless, soothing rustle of the poplar-leaves and the hollow, satisfied purring of the rye filter through the hedge and distract the scavenger’s attention. Then she surprises a dragon-fly with the morning dew still on its wings....
Suddenly a burst of chirping and whistling streams out from an open window: a bright yellow canary hops joyfully in its wire-bound cage.
Not a single “human” to be seen or heard! Red leaves the dragon-fly to work out its own salvation and wriggles like a worm towards the unsuspecting bird. ”

“ Hedge and fence are thrown into sharp relief, and thin, crooked shadows from the farm trees jump up on the white gable of the house.
The horizon is on fire! It is sunrise. The kittens down in the willow stump have all found their nipples; they lift their tiny paws with joy and stretch out their little claws; they cling greedily to the old she-cat’s body and nestle warmly in the shelter of her loins. ”

“ Out here in the fields, in Nature’s sun-baked forcing-house, are none—none who have not found and drunk to its dregs the strong, sweet wine of fruitful life. They have sprung into being, grown up, fructified—now they bring forth their seed and yield themselves to fate....
One sunny afternoon, while the spiders spin their webs and the pimpernels blink their little red flowers, Grey sets out hunting through the rye stubble.
Suddenly she hears the squeak of a mouse [Pg 197] from a heap of rakings—and becomes instantly stiff and rigid, her ears forward and tail bent. ”

“ At first this new kind of food is greeted with contempt; it is cold and slimy—and doesn’t smell! But when the mother starts munching, the young ones soon follow her example, and join in the feast.
Delicious food! After the first taste each of them grabs a big lump; even Tiny, who has never taken kindly to solid diet, displays unusual eagerness. He devours not only his own share, but in addition, is foolhardy enough to covet some of Black’s.
Then, for the first time in his sheltered life, the little kitten sees the furious, grinning face, and the flattened, pressed-back ears, of an angry cat. ”

“ The speed of the cat, as it gallops along the path, infects the man; he digs his spurs deep in Tambourine’s sides, and away they go as hard as the horse can pelt.
Black puts his ears back and makes springs fully three times his own length. He feels like a hare in front of an express train. His [Pg 231] eyes are magnetized to the smooth, open path before him; he cannot, if he would, leave it to plunge aside into the corn. A tree he must have—and trees are not found until the hedge is reached; already he can see one; his claws itch to bury themselves in its bark! ”

“ It bites and pecks unceasingly at Black’s fur, aiming cunningly at the soft places; for it knows by instinct the cat’s most vulnerable points—eyes and nose.
But Black does not budge until the last breath is squeezed from the crow’s lifeless body.
“Madness,” having killed his foe, straight-way sits down and begins gnawing its head. At the sound of the crunching several of the other kittens, who have watched terror-stricken the great black clump flutter through the air, understand at last the nature of the situation.
Big rushes to the spot with giant leaps ”

“ They bite it, clutch it, shake it.... At last they have secured a firm grip. The tables are suddenly turned! Now it is the tail which grips and shakes and rocks them to and fro in the air; they are fighting with a real, live, reckless enemy of equal strength, and are permitted to experience the joy of victory.
No spitting or growling is heard; all takes place in dead silence—only the smacks of the tail and the bumps of the paws betray the presence of living beings. They are like shadows tumbling about.... ”

“ He had to open his mouth still wider; he felt as if his tongue were being torn out; he coughed and spluttered; a suffocating feeling racked his nose; he could not draw [Pg 183] breath; his nostrils pricked and smarted as if clutched by the monster’s invisible claws. Snorting and sneezing, he turned and fled for his life.
He has managed to escape; luckily the monster could not hold him! Also, it does not drive him to frenzy, like that confounded old crow, by jabbing at his tender whiskers all the time. It is more merciful, and allows him to retreat in peace. ”

“ Black ants live in the trunks beneath, and form paths up the furrowed, moss-covered bark; on the wind-dried branches and along the withered twigs the male ants assemble in swarming-time, giving the group of ancient trees an extraordinarily lifelike appearance.
But spiders spin their webs from every knot and curve, and in them ant corpses hang thickly in bunches. In one stump a redstart has built its nest; in another, which is big and full of touchwood, grow burdocks, mugworts, and nettles. ”

“ With the young starling dangling from his jaws and his tail hoisted proudly he swaggers in among them. He twitches a wing tantalizingly under their noses, making them snap jealously at it. At last he lies down and devours his booty with exasperating calmness and deliberation.
However, the young starling is more than he can manage at one sitting, and when he is satisfied he begins to play with the remains. ”

“ In the turf-house loft, as well as in the burial-mound, and down in the willow bole—where she has also paid a visit—all is cold and lonely and full of damp and discomfort.
She longs for the spacious, broken-down farm loft, where the moss-covered thatch clings to the broad, low chimney-stacks; where the clay-lined walls are warping and the small-paned windows hang askew.
There is her real home, the home of her race....
The new farm-buildings, where bricks replace clay and wood, don’t attract her; they are much too cold, and too clean! ”

“ Hairy, yellow-speckled willow-moths wander all over them from top to root, devouring the leaves, until, later in the summer, only the stalks are left—then they spin their cocoons, and one day rise on their soft white wings to desert the stripped, maltreated larva-trees, the ground beneath carpeted with their filth.
The central stump, the one with fat, crooked stem, is hollow right down to the bottom.
Outside the entrance to the hole—a split in the top of the head—grows a large, thick gooseberry bush, which gives shelter from the wind and rain, and serves as a perfect door. ”

“ He could be a young tiger when he chose—and, undaunted by the wound in his neck, he dealt the weasel a lightning blow with his forepaw, following it up with a murderous bite through the snout which rendered his enemy helpless.
The weasel writhed frenziedly in his grip; but the tiger-kitten killed it off-hand, as if it were a mere mouse. He thought that his spoil smelled rather strongly; but he was too young and hungry to be dainty....
He picks it up and makes for home ... arrives via ditch and furrow in the vicinity of the burial-mound. Anyone on the field-path? ”

“ Holding his forepaws stiffly in front of him, he leaps forward, like a monkey on a stick, in a series of jumps, at each plunge pushing up a little mouse-grey cushion of sand, which he simultaneously flings behind him with the backward sweep of his paws. ”

“ Until a sudden scuffle advertises that the bailiff-cat has had enough. He tears himself loose and bolts for his life.
The big piebald has won. He shakes himself and rolls over, gives a couple of energetic [Pg 43] licks to his paws, and carefully brushes his whiskers; then he hastens through the garden up to the farmyard, where a little later he is to be seen promenading the pigsty roof.
With alert expression and nervously vibrating tail he looks inquiringly at all trap-doors and open windows. Suddenly he gives a start; there is Grey Puss on the manure-heap beneath him. ”