Green Meadow Stories by Thornton W. Burgess (good short books .txt) đź“•
Description
Thornton W. Burgess was an American naturalist and the author of dozens of books for children, the most enduring of which are Old Mother West Wind and The Burgess Bird Book for Children. Burgess was a passionate twentieth-century conservationist who dedicated his life to teaching children and their families about the importance of the natural life of the northern North American forest.
The Green Meadow Stories compilation is made up of four distinct but entwined tales: those of Happy Jack Squirrel, Mrs. Peter Rabbit, Bowser the Hound, and Old Granny Fox. Through the adventures of these focal characters readers are introduced to the wider territory of the Green Meadows, the Green Forest, and the Smiling Pond as well as to the animals’ Great World.
The animals of Burgess’s stories are anthropomorphized, undoubtedly, but not caricatured: these are not the twee creatures of Disney cartoons. Their behaviour is explained in ways that would be understandable to a human child—this is fiction, after all—but Burgess’s “little people of the forest” are not simply humans dressed in fur and feathers. The original illustrations in Burgess’s books (by Harrison Cady, not reproduced in this edition) show the animals wearing clothes, but Burgess’s own descriptions of animals are more natural and metaphorical, and less fantastic. For example, he describes Chatterer the Red Squirrel, “who always wears a red coat with vest of white,” a compact way of communicating the look of a squirrel that many of today’s children will never have seen with their own eyes. Less pleasantly, it is Peter Rabbit’s fur and flesh that is rent when Hooty the Owl tears Peter’s “coat” one night on the Old Pasture.
Burgess has tremendous respect for the creatures he depicts, as well as for their natural home. While the presentation of the Green Meadow is hardly “Nature, red in tooth and claw,” it is surprisingly unsentimental. Peter Rabbit, for example, lives a highly anxious life under threat from the many predators who would enjoy having him for dinner; similarly, Happy Jack Squirrel experiences days and nights of terror when Shadow the Weasel discovers Happy Jack’s home and hunts him relentlessly. During a long, hard winter, Granny Fox and Reddy Fox come close to starving, and Old Man Coyote leads Bowser the Hound on a dangerous chase that may result in one or the other dying. Despite other fanciful, sentimental elements of storytelling, Burgess does not sugarcoat prey/predator relationships or the precarity of wild animals’ lives.
Burgess is a clear conservationist in his representations of hunting. The animals are highly aware of hunters and their “dreadful guns.” It is a notable moment in this collection when Farmer Brown’s Boy decides he will no longer use his gun to harm the little people of the Green Meadow and the Green Forest. The stories are also notable in their detailed representation of a largely intact forest, something few children in the twenty-first century will experience.
On the other hand, these are books for children, and they contain plenty of sweetness and light. Animal pairings—such as when Peter Rabbit meets the dainty Little Miss Fuzzytail, the future Mrs. Rabbit—are vague but sentimental and soon lead to proud new families of Rabbits, Ducks, Deer, and Owls. The “little people” celebrate the arrival of each spring’s babies, mark each other’s new relationships and homes, play together, and even help each other survive. They laugh, tease, and trick each other—a fanciful interpretation of animal behaviour that could lead to a reader’s life-long fascination with, and respect for, forest creatures—and for generations of readers, they did just that.
The stories are also more didactic than most twenty-first-century authors would dare to be. There are morals associated with most stories, often attributed to the animal about whom the story is being told. Through this practical teaching, Burgess suggests a correspondence between how animals and humans live; but he consistently clarifies that animal intelligence is different from, but certainly no less than, human intelligence.
Unlike the bouncy rhyming verses of many of today’s children’s books, Burgess’s sentences have a somewhat old-fashioned cadence, creating the distinct and appealing music of traditional storytelling. Burgess’s episodic chapters are eminently readable and particularly come to life when they are voiced by animated reading-aloud. For older readers looking for something different to share with children, or for new readers beginning to tackle “chapter books,” the tales of the Green Meadow Stories collection are a delightful place to discover Burgess and his animal friends.
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- Author: Thornton W. Burgess
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So Blacky started back for the Green Forest and the Old Pasture near Farmer Brown’s to look for Old Man Coyote, and for a long time as he flew he could hear Bowser’s voice with its note of homesickness and longing.
XXIV Blacky Tries to Get HelpYou’ll find that nothing more worth while can be
Than helping others whose distress you see.
On his way back to the Green Forest near Farmer Brown’s home, Blacky the Crow kept a sharp watch for Old Man Coyote. But Old Man Coyote was nowhere to be seen, and it was too late to go look for him, because jolly, round, red Mr. Sun had already gone to bed behind the Purple Hills and the Black Shadows were hurrying towards the Green Forest.
Blacky never is out after dark. You might think that one with so black a coat would be fond of the Black Shadows, but it isn’t so at all. The fact is, bold and impudent as Blacky the Crow is in daylight, he is afraid of the dark. He is quite as timid as anybody I know of in the dark. So Blacky always contrives to go to bed early and is securely hidden away in his secret roosting-place by the time the Black Shadows reach the edge of the Green Forest.
Perhaps it isn’t quite fair to say that Blacky is afraid of the dark. It isn’t the dark itself that Blacky fears, but it is one who is abroad in the dark. It is Hooty the Owl. Hooty would just as soon dine on Blacky the Crow as he would on anyone else, and Blacky knows it.
The next morning, bright and early, Blacky flew over to the Old Pasture to the home of Old Man Coyote. Just as he got there he saw Old Man Coyote coming home from an all-night hunt. “I hope you have had good hunting,” said Blacky politely.
Old Man Coyote looked up at Blacky sharply. Blacky is polite only when he wants to get something. “There was plenty of hunting, but little enough reward for it,” replied Old Man Coyote. “What brings you over here so early? I should suppose you would be looking for a breakfast.”
Now Blacky the Crow is a very wise fellow. He knows when it is to be sly and crafty and when it is best to be frank and outspoken. This was a time for the latter. “I know where Bowser the Hound is,” said Blacky. “I saw him yesterday.”
Old Man Coyote pricked up his ears and grinned. “I thought he was dead,” said he. “It’s a long time since we’ve heard from Bowser. Is he well?”
“Quite well,” replied Blacky, “but unhappy. He is homesick. I suspect that the trouble with Bowser is that he hasn’t the least idea in which direction home lies. You enjoy running, so why not go with me to pay Bowser a visit and then lead him back home?”
Old Man Coyote threw back his head and laughed in that crazy fashion of his till the very hills rang with the sound of his voice.
XXV Blacky Calls on Reddy FoxSaying what you mean, and meaning what you say
Are matters quite as different as night is from the day.
Blacky the Crow wasted no time with Old Man Coyote after he heard Old Man Coyote laugh. There was a note in that crazy laugh of Old Man Coyote’s that told Blacky he might just as well talk to the rocks or the trees about helping Bowser the Hound. Old Man Coyote had led Bowser into his trouble, and it was quite clear that not only did he have no regrets, but he was actually glad that Bowser was not likely to return.
“You’re a hardhearted old sinner,” declared Blacky, as he prepared to fly in search of Reddy Fox.
Old Man Coyote grinned. “It is everyone for himself, you know,” said he. “Bowser would do his best to catch me if he had the chance. So if he is in trouble, he can stay there for all of me.”
It didn’t take Blacky long to find Reddy Fox. You see, it was so early in the morning that Reddy had not retired for his daily nap. Like Old Man Coyote, he was just returning from a night’s hunt when Blacky arrived.
“Hello, Reddy!” exclaimed Blacky. “You certainly are looking in mighty fine condition. That red coat of yours is the handsomest coat I’ve ever seen. If I had a coat like that I know I should be so swelled up with pride that I just wouldn’t be able to see common folks. I’m glad you’re not that way, Reddy. One of the things I like about you is the fact that you never allow your fine coat to make you proud. That is more than I can say for some folks I know.”
Reddy Fox sat down with his big bushy tail curled around to keep his toes warm, cocked his head on one side, and looked up at Blacky the Crow as if he were trying to see right inside that black head to find out what was going on there.
“Now what has that black scamp got in his mind,” thought Reddy. “He never pays compliments unless he wants something in return. That old black rascal has the smoothest tongue in the Green Forest. He hasn’t come ’way over here just to tell me that I have a handsome coat. He wouldn’t fly over a fence to tell anybody that unless it was for a purpose.”
Aloud he said, “Good morning, Blacky. I suppose
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