Bumper the White Rabbit in the Woods

A king can’t really be happy without a queen. There was never a king yet that didn’t have one, or, if he lived alone and refused to take a queen, he was faithless to his people. If you want to find a grouchy king, look through history for one that never had a queen to advise and soothe him.

Bumper wasn’t thinking so much of doing a great honor to Fuzzy Wuzz in asking her to be his queen as he was of making himself happy. Fuzzy Wuzz had become very dear to him. She seemed to understand him, and they were both happy when they were together.

So one day, when he asked her to be his queen, and help him to preside over his people, she modestly consented. She thought as much of Bumper as he did of her. They made an ideal couple. But a king can’t marry without the consent of his people, and Bumper took up the question with Old Blind Rabbit first. He was very modest and uncertain about it, and you can imagine his nervousness.

“A king can marry, Old Blind Rabbit, and bring a queen home with him to reign by his side, can’t he?” he began.

Old Blind Rabbit showed a little surprise at this question, and after a while answered: “A queen, O Bumper, is generally selected by the people. She must be one that they all like.”

“Isn’t the king consulted?” asked Bumper.

“Not always. Of course, sometimes he is, but his choice must be the same as that of his people.”

“It seems to me, then,” remarked Bumper, “that a king must have a hard time selecting a queen.”

“He has, O Bumper, and that is one reason why a king isn’t always happy. He must think of his people first, and of his own happiness second.”

Bumper bowed meekly, and thought once more that being a king was not as agreeable as he had always thought.

“And if his queen is not the one the people choose,” he added, “what becomes of her and the king?”

“They’re often dethroned, O Bumper, driven away into exile!” There was a threat in the Old Blind Rabbit’s voice as he said this. His blind, sightless eyes seemed to go through Bumper and read his thoughts.

“You wish to select a queen?” continued Blind Rabbit.

Bumper said yes, and blushed the color of his eyes.

Old Blind Rabbit looked distressed. “You should not have thought of that,” he said severely, “without first consulting your people. I have already selected a queen for you!”

Bumper’s heart dropped. This blunt announcement took away all his happiness. Then a slow sense of anger and rebellion came into his mind. He wasn’t going to submit to any such dictation.

“And I have selected one for myself!” he replied, stubbornly.

“Then you must give her up, O Bumper! The queen the people select must be the one to reign with you.”

Bumper’s stubborn nature immediately came to the surface. Rather than give up Fuzzy Wuzz and take a queen that Old Blind Rabbit had chosen for him, he would abdicate his throne, and leave the woods. He said as much to Old Blind Rabbit, who was greatly distressed.

“Think well of your words, O Bumper!” he said. “If you disobey the rules of your people, they will banish you, and drive you into exile. A king cannot be above his people.”

“I told you that I would banish myself rather than submit to this,” was the stubborn reply. “I shall choose my own queen or have none. I must live with her, and not you.”

This outburst of defiance became a king, and in a good cause it would have received Old Blind Rabbit’s approval; but just now it ran against his wishes, and he saw nothing but rebellion in it. It was little short of treason.

“Even if you banish yourself,” Blind Rabbit added angrily, “it does not follow you will take your queen away with you. She would not follow you into the woods. She might consent to be your queen here, but not your wife in exile.”

“Leave that to me,” replied Bumper, confidently. “I know she will follow me wherever I go.” Then, smiling at a new thought, he added: “I can take her back to the garden where the red-headed girl lives. She would welcome us.”

“We may prevent that, O Bumper! We may decide to hold you prisoner. No, no, we can’t permit such treason. It’s against the laws of the woods.”

Now the argument was waxing strong, and both were getting very angry. Perhaps they would have parted as enemies if at that very moment Fuzzy Wuzz hadn’t entered the burrow. Old Blind Rabbit turned to her, and took one of her paws in his.

“Here is the queen the people have selected for you, O Bumper,” he said. “And no other will we have.”

For a moment Bumper stared at the couple in surprise. It seemed for a moment as if Old Blind Rabbit was playing a joke on him. Then it dawned suddenly upon his mind that they had each chosen the same one to be queen. He began to laugh so loudly and excitedly that Old Blind Rabbit felt mortified. Was Bumper making fun of Fuzzy Wuzz?

“This is very unbecoming to you, O Bumper,” he began, and then Bumper interrupted him.

“No, no, Blind Rabbit!” he protested. “It isn’t that. Don’t you see I’m laughing because I’m so happy? We have both been very foolish. We got in hot words for nothing. Now forgive me, and all will be well.”

“I don’t understand,” murmured Old Blind Rabbit.

“I don’t blame you,” interrupted Bumper. “But if you had eyes, and could see, you would understand. Fuzzy Wuzz is as happy as I am, and you could tell it by her eyes.”

Then solemnly, he added: “Old Blind Rabbit, the queen my people have selected is the one I chose. Fuzzy Wuzz is the one I meant to have, or none. Now do you understand?”

It really took Old Blind Rabbit some minutes to understand it fully, and then a gleam of happiness swept across his face. “O Bumper,” he exclaimed with emotion, “your reign will be a happy one, and a joy to my people. Long may the king live! And long may the queen live with him!”

He was so excited, and his voice was raised so high, that all the other rabbits came running in the burrow to see what the trouble was, and when they learned the news they set up a joyful squeal of approval. They would now have a queen of their own selection as well as a king.

This time Rusty the Black Bird, Piney the Purple Finch, Mr. Crested Flycatcher, and all the other birds of the woods agreed to carry the message to the rabbits of the different burrows. They flew with swift wings in all directions to announce the wedding of Bumper and Fuzzy Wuzz, inviting White Tail, Pink Nose, Crooked Ears, Brindley the Lame and all the others to the feast.

For days and days the woods rang with happy laughter and merry talk. Every one seemed to be happy. Even Mr. Fox and Buster the Bear were excited, for who could help it when so many others were looking forward to the crowning of Fuzzy Wuzz as queen?

And of their reign in the woods you will hear later in other stories, for they lived happily as king and queen for a good many years, and they had adventures which you might guess were more exciting than any you have yet heard. In the land of rabbits they speak of time as having begun in the reign of King Bumper and Queen Fuzzy Wuzz, and they had good reason to date their calendars from that year, as you will see later when you have heard more about them in the book entitled

Washer was the youngest of a family of three Raccoons, born in the woods close to the shores of Beaver Pond, and not half a mile from Rocky Falls where the water, as you know, turns into silvery spray that sparkles in the sunshine like diamonds and rubies. And, indeed, the animals and birds of the North Woods much prefer this glittering spray and foam that rise in a steady cloud from the bottom of the falls to all the jewels and gems ever dug out of the earth! For, though each drop sparkles but a moment, and then vanishes from sight, there are a million others to follow it, and when you bathe in them they wash and scour away the dirt, and make you clean and fresh in body and soul.

Washer had his first great adventure at Rocky Falls, and it is a wonder that he ever lived to tell the tale, for the water which flows over the falls is almost as cruel and terrible as it is sparkling and inviting. But

In the North Woods where Buster was born, a wide river tinkles merrily over stones that are so white you’d mistake them for snowballs, if you were not careful, and begin pelting each other with them. The birches hanging over the water look like white sticks of peppermint candy, except in the spring of the year when they blossom out in green leaves, and then they make you think of fairyland where everything is painted the colors of the rainbow.

The rocks that slope up from the bank of the river are dented and broken as if some giant in the past had smashed them with his hammer, cracking some and punching deep holes in others. It was in one of these holes, or caves, that Buster was born.

He didn’t mind the hard rocky floor of his bed a bit, nor did he mind the darkness, nor the cold winds that swept through the open doorway. He was so well protected by his

Buster’s return to the North Woods, after his many travels in different parts of the country as a trick bear in a circus, was an important event to him. He had been away so long—ever since he was a little cub—that nothing seemed familiar to him. His recollection of the river that flowed in front of the cave where he had been born was very dim and uncertain, and he was not sure which way to go when he had crossed it.

Browny the Woodchuck had informed him that he was in the North Woods when he waded up on shore, but Browny had an important engagement with his family, and immediately left him. Happy and excited that he was now free in the woods, and no longer in danger of being pursued and captured, Buster for a time was satisfied in roaming around in the bushes, eating the wild fruit and berries.

High among the timberland of the North Woods White Tail the Deer was born, and if you had stumbled upon his home in the thickets you would have been surprised by a noise like the rushing of the wind, and then by a very remarkable silence that could almost be felt. The first was made by Mother White Tail as she deserted her young and took to quick flight.

White Tail, crouching low down in the bushes, so still that he scarcely moved a hair, would hide his beautiful head in the branches and leaves like an obedient child. Left alone he knew that his one chance of escape was not to move or whimper or cry.

That was the first lesson White Tail was taught by his mother—to keep absolutely quiet in the presence of danger. When he was so small that he could hardly hold up his head, she whispered to him: “Listen, White Tail! When I give the signal that the hunters are coming, you must flatten yourself down

White Tail grew rapidly in size and strength, his long, clean limbs showing taut muscles and great springing power; and his neck grew thick and short, which is well for a buck, who must use it in savage thrusts when the head is a battering ram. His horns were short and bony, but they protruded in front like knobs against which it would be unpleasant to fall.

But his antlers were his pride. They spread out fan-shape on his head, crowning it with a glory that made Mother Deer supremely happy. At times it seemed as if the antlers were too heavy for the head and neck, but White Tail carried them easily, and when he shook them in sport or anger any one could see they were just fitted to him.

In time he stood as high as Father Buck, and a head taller than Mother Deer. The day the tip of his antlers reached an inch above Father Buck’s, he felt a little thrill of pride.

There are many squirrels living in the North Woods, but only one real Bobby Gray Squirrel, and if you saw him once you would never mistake him for any other. Bobby was a gay, rollicking happy-go-lucky fellow, who believed in enjoying himself to-day and letting the morrow take care of itself. He wasn’t exactly lazy, but he didn’t believe in doing work that wasn’t actually necessary, and sometimes, I’m afraid, he forgot to do what was really necessary.

Bobby had many friends in the woods, and they all liked him and smiled at him, but there were some who thought his careless ways might get him in trouble some day. So instead of chattering pleasantly with him, they shook their heads and preached to him.

“Why don’t you get busy these pleasant days, Bobby, and store up food for the winter?” Gray Back the Weasel asked reprovingly one bright, sunny day.

When Bobby Gray Squirrel left the deserted house where he had spent the winter with Stripe the Chipmunk and Web the Flying Squirrel, not to mention White Foot the Deer Mouse, he was in a very serious mood, and his first thought was to go right to work to build a home for himself in some friendly tree, and stock it early with nuts for winter use.

His experience that winter, before he had found his fortune in the bag of nuts in the tower room, had made him very thoughtful. “I’m not going to put off work again that should be done to-day,” he said to himself as he frisked along from tree to tree. “I can’t expect to have such good luck another winter. But my!”—smiling in recollection—“those nuts were delicious!”

He smacked his lips at the thought, and right on top of it came the low trill of a bird. It was Goldy the Oriole, who had just returned north.

Now in the reign of King Bumper and Queen Fuzzy Wuzz many things happened in the woods that made exciting times for the wild rabbits and their friends. They came to pass in the first year of their reign, for Bumper the white rabbit was not content to be idle when his people were surrounded by so many enemies that their lives were never safe.

Some kings just eat and drink and make merry the live long day, and forget all about duty; but lots of such kings have lost their thrones, and others who have ruled wisely have been blessed with many friends, and when they died all the people mourned their loss.

Bumper the white rabbit intended to be a good and wise ruler, and therefore he spent much time in trying to think of ways to help his wild cousins of the woods. The story of how he escaped from the garden owned by the

Bumper, after working hard to trick his enemies so they would be more afraid of the rabbits in the woods, had decided the ways of peace were better than those of war. Not that he was going to permit Sneaky the Wolf or Loup the Lynx to pounce upon his people and eat them up without fighting, but instead of going around with a chip on his shoulder, expecting and looking for trouble, he intended to make friends of all the animals and birds, and be helpful to them.

It is wonderful how much good to others we can overlook if we go about with our eyes shut. There is plenty to do if we look for it. So Bumper found in a short time that he had missed a good deal in always looking for the worst in others instead of for the best.

Only a few days after his change of plans, which was told of in a former book, Bumper stumbled upon Sleepy the Opossum in a tree, with his eyes closed in slumber. At first he

There was once an old woman who had so many rabbits that she hardly knew what to do. They ate her out of house and home, and kept the cupboard so bare she often had to go to bed hungry. But none of the rabbits suffered this way. They all had their supper, and their breakfast, too, even if there wasn’t a crust left in the old woman’s cupboard.

There were big rabbits and little rabbits; lean ones and fat ones; comical little youngsters who played pranks upon their elders, and staid, serious old ones who never laughed or smiled the livelong day; boy rabbits and girl rabbits, mother rabbits and father rabbits, and goodness knows how many aunts, uncles, nephews, nieces, cousins, second cousins and distant relatives-in-law! They all lived under one big roof in the