How to Decorate Miniature Halloween Tree

        The first step in decorating any holiday tree, no matter the size of the tree, is to string lights within it's branches. I chose skeleton shaped white lights for this tree because the theme is for Halloween of course. I will hide the large battery pack beneath a tree skirt once the rest of the black miniature tree has been decorated.

Left, a small table-top tree in black for a Halloween display. Right, orange and black
 ornaments and garlands. On the far right, a handmade paper garland.

Above is an assortment of tiny, handmade ornaments for a doll sized Halloween tree.

  

How To Make 6 Tiny Halloween Trims:

1.) pom pom bats - To make these tiny bats you will need black paper, googly eyes, tacky craft glue, black pom poms and black thread for the hanger. At this post is a template for paper bat wings. These are large but you may print smaller copies for this craft if you'd like to.

Directions:

1. Cut a pair of tiny bat shaped wings from the black paper.
2. Glue a small black pom pom in the center of the wings for the bat's head
3. Glue tiny googly eyes in the center of the pom pom. Let dry
4. Glue black thread to the back of the bat for a hanger

2.) pom pom ghosts - To make the ghost ornaments you will need: googly eyes, white ruffled cup-cake wrapper(s), tacky craft glue a black permanent ink marker, white thread for the hanger.

Directions:

1. Cut a piece of ruffled cup-cake liner and pinch it at one end.
2. Using tacky white glue push the pinched end of paper into the center of a white pom pom.
3. Glue on googly eyes.
4. Draw on a mouth with the permanent ink pen.
5. Glue on the thread to make a hanger.

3.) candy corn witch's hats - (pictured below) To make the candy corn hats you will need the following supplies: white typing paper, white thread, acrylic paints (yellow, orange, white).

Directions:

1. Cut small circles from the white typing paper and cut them in half. 
2. Curl the half circles into cone shapes, pasting their over-lapping corners together. Let these cones dry completely.
3. Thread a needle and poke it into the tip of each hat pulling it down through the cone. Then poke through a tuft of cotton and string a loop through the interior of the cone up and out the tip again. 
4. Squeeze a bit of tacky glue inside the cone to dry and hold the thread hanger in place. See photo below.
5. Cut more circles from paper for the brims of the hats and glue the cones to the brims. Let dry.
6. Paint the witches hats to look just like candy corn. The tips should remain white, the centers will have a dark orange stripe and the bottoms of each candy corn hat will be bright yellow.

See how to assemble the candy corn hats for our tree.

 

 

The miniature Halloween tree displayed inside of our
18 inch, American Girl dollhouse. 

4.) tiny broom sticks - The supplies needed for the tiny brooms: a chenille stem, decorative paper for ''straw'', brown paint, cotton balls (just a few) and thread for hanger.

Directions:

1. Cut long narrow strips of paper and cut a ruffle running down each strip.
2. Cut a piece of chenille stem approximately 1 1/2'' long. 
3. Squeeze tacky craft glue onto the stem and paper as you twist the paper around the stem to make the broom bottom.
4. Use thread to twist around the paper and make it adhere to the stem better.
5. Twist a bit of cotton and glue around the stem of each broom to make the handles smooth. 
6. Paint the handles.
7. Tie a narrow ribbon or thread to the end of the broom handle to make hangers for the tiny brooms.

5.) Spooky themed stickers - To make the sticker ornaments you will need tiny thematic stickers, cardboard, tacky glue, decorative papers.

Directions:

1. You can purchase any stickers of your own taste to layer on top of cardboard and paper to make flat ornaments for a tree.
2. Paste on hangers to the backs or poke a hole with a threaded needle through the tops of the ornaments so that these can be hung on a miniature Halloween tree.

6.) drinking straw garland - Supplies needed to make the garland: decorative straw, pom poms, and beads.

Directions:

1. Cut a decorative drinking straw into short lengths to thread together with pom poms and beads for a garland. The straw and pom poms are very light weight and are easily hung on the fragile wire branches of a miniature tree!

Left, details of a small owl tree topper, he wears a candy corn party hat and velvet orange
 ruffled collar. Right, details of miniature ornaments especially made for All Hallows.

In The Indian Summer

 IN THE INDIAN SUMMER
By Joaquin Miller.

The  squirrels  chattered  in  the  leaves,
The  turkeys  call'd  from  paw-paw  wood,
The  deer  with  lifted  nostrils  stood,
And  humming-birds  did  wind  and  weave,
Swim  round  about,  dart  in  and  out,
Through  fragrant  forest  edge  made  red,
Made  many  colored  overhead
By  climbing  blossoms  sweet  with  bee
And  yellow  rose  of  Cherokee.
Then  frost  came  by  and  touched  the  leaves;
Then  time  hung  ices  on  the  eaves;
Then  cushion-snows  possessed  the  ground,
And  so  the  seasons  kept  their  round.
Yet  still  old  Morgan  went  and  came
From  cabin  door  to  forest  dim.
Through  wold  of  snows,  through  wood  of  flame.
Through  golden   Indian-Summer  days
Hung  round  in  soft  September  haze;
And  no  man  crossed  or  questioned  him.

How to Craft Baba Yaga's Fairytale Hut

       I handcrafted this Baba Yaga hut for my younger child. She has always loved Slavic folktales and collects some unique paraphernalia around themes found in these stories. 
       Baba Yaga is a common witch caricature associated with these foreign folktales. Sometimes she plays the villain, sometimes the hero, depending upon the author, time of harvest, culture or country where she is found. Her hut is always trying to run from her and any persons who might try to enter it's curious enchanted rooms. 

Baba Yaga's reluctant hut, from Russian folk tales. This is a home that
deeply resents it's own keeper! Some of us are all too aware of that 
scenario in real life . . . That's o.k. little house you just keep on runnin'!

Supply List:

• scrap cardboard, both thick and thin
  
• one small recycled box for the lower half of the hut
• one large, recycled Quaker Oats paper can  or a salt box for the upper tower half of the hut
• white school glue
• hot glue gun and hot glue
• acrylic paints - browns, white, yellows, black, grey and green
• chenille stems (for chain)
• 2 identical blocks of wood for stand
• two identical dowel rods
• masking tape
• faux wooden scrapbook paper
• dismantled pine cone scales for the chicken legs
  
• giant lotus pod for the roof
• paper mache pulp
• one nail
• one paper, recycled toilet paper tube
• Mod Podge
• wood glue
  

Step-by-Step Instructions:

1. Cut two identical wooden blocks for the base of this project. The wood should be heavy.
2. Drill holes in the same locations on both blocks, large enough to insert two identical wooden dowels several inches apart.
3. Insert the dowels using wood glue and let this stand dry overnight. (see photo below)
4. Now tape and glue a small box on top of this platform. 
5. The top part of this box should have it's upper flaps ''peaked'' using masking tape and glue to form a simple ''V'' shaped roof line.
6. Cut the bottom of a large Quaker Oat can to fit snugly over the peaked roof top. This should be in a ''U'' shape. 
7. Glue an up-side-down, dried lotus pod to the top of the can to assemble a unique roof shape for this old fairytale folk hut.
8. Crush masking tape in an eyeball shape for the window attachment to the tower. Stick this on tight and shape/glue a window frame from light weight cardboard to frame around the eyeball.
9. Smooth and fill in this window to the soul of the enchanted hut using paper mache pulp. Save the remaining pulp to shape the ''chicken feet'' of the hut at the hut's platform base. Wait for the pulp to harden and dry completely before painting these crazy features of Baba Yaga's home.
10. Next cut the window frames and door from scrap cardboard and attach these to the hut with glue.
    
11. Move on to cutting the shingles for the roof and sides of the hut walls and glue these firmly in place.
12. Cut a hole into the side of the hut for the chimney flu using the recycled toilet paper tube, masking tape and several types of glue. You can assemble the larger elements of the hut using hot glue but then save the white glue for the finer details excluding the pine cone shingles; these must be applied with hot glue and adult supervision.
    
13. At this point in the project you will need to prepare the work area to use a hot glue gun in order to make the faux stone tower. Apply the hot glue in small random lumps about the tower's surface. Let dry.
14. Shape a large bulky chain using the chenille stems. Wrap white glue and paper about the surfaces of the stems to make these smoother and thicker. Make and attach a cuff from cardboard and attach the chain to a large nail hammered into the base of the base and also to one of the chicken legs on the hut.
15. Hot glue the pine cone seed scales to form both the small arbor over the door and also the upper feather-like parts of the chicken legs. These scales are torn from the peduncle of the pine cone using pliers and strength. 
16. Now you may paint the entire cardboard home for Baba Yaga using natural, weathered-looking acrylic paints. I applied thin washes of brown, green and gray on the shingles and roof.
17. I painted the hut's eyeball green and also the platform. 
18. Use warm yellows and orange to paint the chicken legs too.
19. Paste faux wooden papers on the window frames and door the make these look more realistic.
20. I painted the interior of the window flat black and grey. Later I made a bone shaped handle for the door knob at my daughter's request. However, you don't need to attach one if you wish, Baba's hut is always trying to keep both her and any visitors from entering the house anyway...
21. Paint the stonework about the tower grey.
22. Mod Podge every surface to seal the finished hut.
    

Left, the beginning of a Baba Yaga hut craft for an eccentric daughter with a passion for
everything Russian folklore. Where are you gonna buy it? Well, I can't so I guess I'll just have
 to make my own gifts for her? Right, door and window details.

Left, the painted details of the roof's wavy patterned shingles are painted in shades of brown. Right,
 the ''witchy'' stone tower has an eyeball window! Who knows what this pathetic, unhappy hut used
to be at one time, a person or a chicken, or both . . .

Left, the back of the hut. Center, details of the hut's shingled walls. Right, see the rickety stove
pipe sticking out from the side of the house.

Left, see the hut in it's basic parts. Center, the chicken's feathered legs are made using pine cone
scales and a hot glue gun. Right, the roof top is an inverted lotus pod!

Left, the hut's chicken legs are always moving the hut about the fairyland forest, so these must
 be chained down so that Baba can find her home at least some of the time anyway... Right, Baba's
 home is done and ready to be gifted to my younger daughter; she is crazy about Slavic folk tales.

• Make a doll cradle using a recycled Quaker Oats can...

Popping Corn

Popping Corn

Oh, the sparkling eyes,
In a fairy ring! 
Ruddy glows the fire,
And the corn we bring;
Tiny lumps of gold,
One by one we drop;
Give the pan a shake;-
Pip! pop! pop!

Pussy on the mat
Wonders at the fun;
Merry little feet
Round the kitchen run;
Smiles and pleasant words
Never, never stop;-
Lift the cover now;-
Pip! pop! pop!

What a pretty change!
Where's the yellow gold?
Here are snowy lambs
Nestling in the fold;
Some are wide awake,
On the floor they hop;
Ring the bell for tea! 
Pip! pop! pop!

Through the mousehole . . .

      I will be adding more crafts for mice in mid to late November here, 2024.

How to Craft Mouse Dolls:

• How to make a sock mouse for display...
• Town Mouse and Country Mouse paper dolls - color these in, both are male versions
• The Mousie Bride Paper Doll - in full color
• How to craft mice using dryer lint and cotton batting from my Christmas blog

How to Craft Mouse House and Furnishings:

• How to make a matchbox bed for a mouse... and see a pink country house for a mouse here
• Build a Shoebox House for A Country Mouse
• Craft a Rustic Country Bed for A Mouse
• How to Applique a Round Penny Rug for A Mousehouse
• How to craft a mouse size pot-bellied stove - it really lights up!

Read Mouse Stories Online:

• Whitefoot Spends A Happy Winter by Thorton W. Burgess - third grade reading level
• The Cat, the Rooster and the Young Mouse
• Little Mouse Tales and free book children can print
• Read about the mouse named Peanut who cares for a dollhouse family...
• The Mice and The Weasels
• Grasshopper Green and the Medow-Mice at Project Gutenberg
• The Tale of Mrs. Tittlemouse by Beatrix Potter
• Kindness Is Never Wasted
• Teaching Church Mice About Church
• Raggedy Ann and The Mouse - 4th to 5th grade reading level
• The Christopher Churchmouse Treasury
• The Country Mouse and The Town Mouse Story
• Christmas in a Mouse Hole

Mouse Book Read Alouds at YouTube:

1. ''There's a Mouse in My House'' read aloud by green grass story
2. ''Chrysanthemum'' read aloud by Storytime with Ryan and Craig
3. ''If you give a mouse a cookie'' read aloud by 5 minutes with Uncle Ben
4. ''Mice'' read aloud by pure star kids
5. "Mouse Soup'' read aloud by ReadingAllowed
6. ''Fierce Grey Mouse'' read aloud by Hubble & Hattie
7. ''Run Home Little Mouse'' read aloud by Meredith Plummer
8. ''Welcome Home, Mouse'' read aloud by Storytime with Judy
9. ''The Mother's Day Mice'' read aloud by Storytime Magic
10. "Mice and Beans'' read aloud by San Joaquin County Office of Education
11. "Goodnight Mice!'' read aloud by The Reading Nook
12. "A House For A Mouse" read aloud by Bed Time Buddies
13. ''A Mouse Called Julian'' read aloud by cawcawbooks
14. ''Brave As A Mouse'' read aloud by Doing It Right

Read Mouse Poems and Rhymes:

• Molly and the Mouse - by Maurine Hathaway - "Five -year-old Mollie Was holding her dollie...''
• Mouse's Tail by Helen Pettes - ''A little Mouse, so clean and neat, Would wash his face and scrub his feet..."
• Mouse Sized Rhymes - "A little white hen, duck and a mouse, Together they lived in a little white house..."
• The Mice That Celebrate Christmas... 

Mice that star in short films:

• ''The Box'' animated short film shown at CGMeetup
• ''Mouse For Sale'' animated short film by Wouter Bongaerts shown at Mickey Mouse Channel
• ''A Fox And A Mouse'' by ESMA shown at The CGBros
• ''Wings'' animated short film SVA Thesis at Gothfrog
• Mouse decorates the Christmas tree by MouseAgility

Mouse Clip Art:

• Church Mouse Bookplates for boys and girls...

Mouse House Video:

• Maileg inspired mouse house by I Spy With My Little Eye
• Building a mouse house for Lionel at the Totowa Library

The Lion and the Mouse - Puppet Show

 by San Marcos Public Library

The Surprise

 'Surprises  sometimes  are  so  great
You  're  tempted  to  believe  in  fate. ' Whitefoot.

       One  never-to-be  forgotten  evening Whitefoot  met  Mrs.  Whitefoot and  she  invited  him  to  come  back  to their  home.  Of  course  Whitefoot was  delighted.

       ''Sh-h-h,"  said  little  Mrs.  Whitefoot,  as  Whitefoot  entered  the  snug little  room  of  the  house  they  had built  in  the  old  nest  of  Melody  the Wood  Thrush.  Whitefoot  hesitated. In  the  first  place,  it  was  dark in  there.  In  the  second  place,  he had  the  feeling  that  somehow  that little  bedroom  seemed  crowded.  It hadn't  been  that  way  the  last  time he  was  there.  Mrs.  Whitefoot  was right  in  front  of  him,  and  she seemed  very  much  excited  about something.

       Presently  she  crowded  to  one  side. ''Come  here  and  look,''  said  she. 

       Whitefoot  looked.  In  the  middle of  a  soft  bed  of  moss  was  a  squirming mass  of  legs  and  funny  little  heads. At  first  that  was  all  Whitefoot  could make  out.

       ''Don't  you  think  this  is  the most  wonderful  surprise  that  ever was?''  whispered  little  Mrs.  Whitefoot.  "Aren't  they  darlings? Aren't  you  proud  of  them?''

       By  this  time  Whitefoot  had  made out  that  that  squirming  mass  of  legs and  heads  was  composed  of  baby Mice.  He  counted  them.  There were  four.  ''Whose  are  they,  and what  are  they  doing  here?''  Whitefoot  asked  in  a  strange  voice.

       ''Why,  you  old  silly,  they  are yours, yours  and  mine,''  declared little  Mrs.  Whitefoot.  ''Did  you ever,  ever  see  such  beautiful  babies? Now  I  guess  you  understand  why  I kept  you  away  from  here.''

       Whitefoot  shook  his  head. ''No''  said  he,  ''I  don't  understand at  all.  I  don't  see  yet  what  you

drove  me  away  for."

       ''Why,  you  blessed  old  dear, there  wasn't  room  for  you  when those  babies  came;  I  had  to  have  all the  room  there  was.  It  wouldn't have  done  to  have  had  you  running in  and  out  and  disturbing  them  when they  were  so  tiny.  I  had  to  be  alone with  them,  and  that  is  why  I  madeyou  go  off  and  live  by  yourself.  I am  so  proud  of  them,  I  don't  know what  to  do.  Aren't  you  proud, Whitefoot?  Aren't  you  the  proudest Wood  Mouse  in  all  the  Green Forest?"

       Of  course  Whitefoot  should  have promptly  said  that  he  was,  but  the truth  is,  Whitefoot  wasn't  proud  at all.  You  see,  he  was  so  surprised that  he  hadn't  yet  had  time  to  feel that  they  were  really  his.  In  fact, just  then  he  felt  a  wee  bit  jealous  of them.  It  came  over  him  that  they

would  take  all  the  time  and  attention of  little  Mrs.  Whitefoot.  So Whitefoot  didn't  answer  that  question.  He  simply  sat  and  stared  at those  four  squirming  babies.

       Finally  little  Mrs.  Whitefoot gently  pushed  him  out  and  followed him.  ''Of  course''  said  she, ''there isn't  room  for  you  to  stay  here  now. You  will  have  to  sleep  in  your  old home  because  there  isn't  room  in here  for  both  of  us  and  the  babies too.'' 

       Whitefoot's  heart  sank.  He  had thought  that  he  was  to  stay  and  that everything  would  be  just  as  it  had been  before.  ''Can't  I  come  over here  anymore? "  he  asked  rather timidly.

       ''What  a  foolish  question!"  cried little  Mrs.  Whitefoot.  "Of  course you  can.  You  will  have  to  help take  care  of  these  babies. Just  as soon  as  they  are  big  enough,  you  will have  to  help  teach  them  how  to  hunt for  food  and  how  to  watch  out  for danger,  and  all  the  things  that  a  wise Wood  Mouse  knows.  Why,  they couldn't  get  along  without  you. Neither  could  I.''  she  added  softly.

       At  that  Whitefoot  felt  better. And  suddenly  there  was  a big swelling  in  his  heart.  It  was  the beginning  of  pride,  pride  in  those wonderful  babies. 

       ''You  have  given  me  the  best surprise  that  ever  was,  my  dear," said  Whitefoot  softly.  ''Now I think  I  will  go  and  look  for  some supper.

Back and The End and Back to the Index

Whitefoot Is Hurt

'The  hurts  that  hardest  are  to  bear
Come  from  those  for  whom  we  care. ' Whitefoot

       Whitefoot  was  hurt.  Yes,  sir, Whitefoot  was  hurt.  He  was  very much  hurt.  It  wasn't  a  bodily  hurt; it  was  an  inside  hurt.  It  was  a hurt  that  made  his  heart  ache. And  to  make  it  worse,  he  couldn't understand  it  at  all.  One  evening he  had  been  met  at  the  little  round doorway  by  little  Mrs.  Whitefoot.
       ''You  can't  come  in,"  said  she. 
       ''Why  can't  I?"  demanded Whitefoot,  in  the  greatest  surprise. 
        ''Never  mind  why. You  can't, and  that  is  all  there  is  to  it''  replied Mrs.  Whitefoot.
       ''You  mean  I  can't  ever  come  in anymore?" asked  Whitefoot.
       ''I  don't  know  about  that'' replied  Mrs.  Whitefoot,  ''but  you can't  come  in  now,  nor  for  sometime.  I  think  the  best  thing  you can  do  is  to  go  back  to  your  old home  in  the  hollow  stub."
       ''Whitefoot  stared  at  little  Mrs. Whitefoot  quite  as  if  he  thought  she had  gone  crazy.  Then  he  lost  his temper.  ''I  guess  I'll  come  in  if I  want  to,"  said  he.  ''  This  home is  quite  as  much  my  home  as  it  is yours.  You  have  no  right  to  keep me  out  of  it.  Just  you  get  out of  my  way''
       But  little  Mrs.  Whitefoot  didn't get  out  of  his  way,  and  do  what he  would,  Whitefoot  could  not  get  in. You  see  she  quite  filled  that  little round  doorway.  Finally,  he  had to  give  up  trying.  Three  times  he came  back  and  each  time  he  found little  Mrs.  Whitefoot  in  the  doorway. And  each  time  she  drove  him  away. Finally,  for  lack  of  any  other  place to  go  to,  he  returned  to  his  old  home in  the  old  stub.  Once  he  had thought  this  the  finest  home  possible, but  now  somehow  it  did  not  suit  him at  all.  The  truth  is  he  missed  little Mrs.  Whitefoot,  and  so  what  had once  been  a  home  was  now  only  a place  in  which  to  hide  and  sleep.
       Whitefoot's  anger  did  not  last long. It  was  replaced  by  that  hurt feeling.  He  felt  that  he must  have done  something  little  Mrs.  Whitefoot  did  not  like,  but  though  he thought  and  thought  he  couldn't remember  a  single  thing.  Several times  he  went  back  to  see  if  Mrs. Whitefoot  felt  any  differently,  but found  she  didn't.  Finally  she told  him  rather  sharply  to  go  away and  stay  away.  After  that  Whitefoot  didn't  venture  over  to  the  new home.  He  would  sometimes  sit  a short  distance  away  and  gaze  at  it longingly.  All  the  joy  had  gone out  of  the  beautiful  springtime  for him.  He was quite as unhappy  as he  had  been  before  he  met  little Mrs. Whitefoot. You  see,  he  was even  more  lonely  than  he  had  been then. And  added  to  this  loneliness was  that  hurt  feeling, which  made it  ever  and  ever  so  much  worse. It  was  very  hard  to  bear.
       ''If  I  could  understand  it,  it wouldn't  be  so  bad,''  he  kept  saying over  and  over  again  to  himself,  ''but I  don't  understand  it.  I  don't understand  why  Mrs.  Whitefoot doesn't  love  me  anymore." 

Back and Next

The Whitefoots Enjoy Their New Home

'No  home  is  ever  mean  or  poor
Where  love  awaits  you  at  the  door. ' Whitefoot.

       ''There''  said  Mrs.  Whitefoot,  as she  worked  a  strip  of  white  birch bark  into  the  roof  of  the  new  home she  and  Whitefoot  had  been  building out  of  the  old  home  of  Melody the  Wood Thrush, ''this  finishes  the roof.  I  don't  think  any  water  will  get through  it  even  in  the  hardest  rain.''
       ''It  is  wonderful''  declared Whitefoot  admiringly.  ''Wherever did  you  learn  to  build  such  a  house as  this?" 
       ''From  my  mother.''  replied  Mrs. Whitefoot. "I  was  born  in  just such  a  home.  It  makes  the  finest kind  of  a  home  for  Wood  Mouse babies.''
       "You  don't  think  there  is  danger that  the  wind  will  blow  it  down, do  you?''  ventured  Whitefoot.
       "Of  course  I  don't, "  retorted little  Mrs.  Whitefoot  scornfully. 
       ''Hasn't  this  old  nest  remained  right where  it  is  for  over  a  year?  Do  you suppose  that  if  I  had  thought  there was  the  least  bit  of  danger  that  it would  blow  down,  I  would  have  used it?  Do  credit  me  with  a  little  sense, my  dear."
       ''Yes'm,  I  do," replied  Whitefoot meekly. ''You  are  the  most  sensible  person  in  all  the  Great  World.''
       I  was  not  finding  fault.  You  see,  I have  always  lived  in  a  hole  in  the ground  or  a  hollow  stump,  or  a  hole in  a  tree,  and  I  have  not  yet  become used  to  a  home  that  moves  about and  rocks  as  this  one  does  when  the wind  blows.  But  if  you  say  it  is all  right,  why  of  course  it  is  all  right. Probably  I  will  get  used  to  it  after awhile.''
       Whitefoot  did  get  used  to  it. After  living  in  it  for  a  few  days,  it no  longer  seemed  strange,  and  he  no longer  minded  its  swaying  when  the wind  blew.  The  fact  is,  he  rather enjoyed  it.  So  Whitefoot  and  Mrs. Whitefoot  settled  down  to  enjoy their  new  home.  Now  and  then they  added  a  bit  to  it  here  and there.
       Somehow  Whitefoot  felt  unusually safe,  safer  than  he  had  ever  felt in  any  of  his  other  homes.  You  see, he  had  seen  several  feathered  folk alight  close  to  it  and  not  give  it  a second  look.  He  knew  that  they had  seen  that  home,  but  had  mistaken it  for  what  it  had  once  been,the  deserted  home  of  one  of  their own  number.
       Whitefoot  had  chuckled.  He  had chuckled  long  and  heartily.  "If they  make  that  mistake''  said  he  to himself,  "everybody  else  is  likely  to make  it.  That  home  of  ours  is  right in  plain  sight,  yet  I  do  believe  it is  safer  than  the  best  hidden  home I  ever  had  before.  Shadow  theWeasel  never  will  think  of  climbing up  this  little  tree  to  look  at  an  old nest,  and  Shadow  is  the  one  I  am most  afraid  of.''
       It  was  only  a  day  or  two  later that  Buster  Bear  happened  along that  way.  Now  Buster  is  very fond  of  tender  Wood  Mouse.  More than  once  Whitefoot  had  had  a  narrow escape  from  Buster's  big  claws as  they  tore  open  an  old  stump  or dug  into  the  ground  after  him.  He saw  Buster  glance  up  at  the  new home  without  the  slightest  interest in  those  shrewd  little  eyes  of  his. Then  Buster  shuffled  on  to  roll  over an  old  log  and  lick  up  the  ants  he found  under  it. Again  Whitefoot chuckled.  ''Yes,  sir''  said  he.  ''It is  the  safest  home  I've  ever  had.''
       So  Whitefoot  and  little  Mrs. Whitefoot  were  very  happy  in  the home  which  they  had  built,  and  for once  in  his  life  Whitefoot  did  very little  worrying.  Life  seemed  more beautiful  than  it  had  ever  been before.  And  he  almost  forgot  that there  was  such  a  thing  as  a  hungry enemy.

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Making Over An Old House

 'A  home  is  always  what  you  make  it.
With  love  there  you  will  ne'er  forsake
it. ' Whitefoot.

       Whitefoot  climbed  up  to  the old  nest  of  Melody  the  Wood Thrush  over  the  edge  of  which  little Mrs.  Whitefoot  was  looking  down at  him.  It  took  Whitefoot  hardly a  moment  to  get  up  there,  for  the nest  was  only  a  few  feet  above  the ground  in  a  young  tree,  and  you know  Whitefoot  is  a  very  good climber.

       He  found  Mrs.    Whitefoot   very much  excited. She  was  delighted with  that  old  nest  and  she  showed it.  For  his  part,  Whitefoot  couldn't see   anything   but   a   deserted    old house  of  no  use  to  anyone.  To be  sure,  it  had  been  a  very  good home  in  its  time. It  had  been  made of  tiny  twigs,  stalks  of  old  weeds, leaves,   little  fine   roots  and   mud. It  was  still  quite  solid,  and was firmly  fixed  in  a  crotch  of  the  young tree. But  Whitefoot  couldn't   see how  it  could  be  turned  into  a  home for  a  Mouse.  He  said  as  much.

       Little  Mrs.  Whitefoot  became more  excited  than  ever,  "You dear  old  thing, "  said  she,  "whatever is  the  matter  with  you?  Don't you  see  that  all  we  need  do  is to  put  a  roof  on,  make  an  entrance  on  the  under  side,  and  make  a  soft comfortable  bed  inside  to  make  it a  delightful  home?''

       ''I  don't  see  why  we  don't  make a  new  home  altogether.''  protested Whitefoot.  "It  seems  to  me  that hollow  stub  of  mine  is  ever  so  much better  than  this.  That  has  good solid  walls,  and  we  won't  have  to  do a  thing  to  it.''

       ''I  told  you  once  before  that  it doesn't  suit  me  for  summer''  replied little  Mrs.  Whitefoot  rather  sharply, because  she  was  beginning  to  lose patience.  "It  will  be  all  right  for winter,  but  winter  is  a  long  way  off. It  may  suit  you  for  summer,  but  it doesn't  suit  me,  and  this  place  does. So  this  is  where  we  are  going  to live." 

       ''Certainly,  my  dear.  Certainly'' replied  Whitefoot  very  meekly. ''If  you  want  to  live  here,  here  we will  live.  But  I  must  confess  it isn't  clear  to  me  yet  how  we  are going  to  make  a  decent  home  out of  this  old  nest.''

       ''Don't  you  worry  about  that.'' replied  Mrs.  Whitefoot.  ''You  can get  the  material,  and  I'll  attend to  the  rest.  Let  us  waste  no  time about  it.  I  am  anxious  to  get our  home  finished  and  to  feel  a little  bit  settled.  I  have  already planned  just  what  has  got  to  be done  and  how  we  will  do  it.  Now you  go  look  for  some  nice  soft, dry  weed  stalks  and  strips  of  soft bark,  and  moss  and  any  other  soft, tough  material  that  you   can  find. Just  get  busy  and  don't  stop  to talk."

       Of  course  Whitefoot  did  as  he was  told.  He  ran  down  to  the ground  and  began  to  hunt  for  the things  Mrs.  Whitefoot  wanted.  He was  very  particular  about  it.  He still  didn't  think  much  of  her  idea of  making  over  that  old  home  of Melody's,  but  if  she  would  do  it, he  meant  that  she  should  have  the very  best  of  materials  to  do  it  with.

       So  back  and  forth  from  the ground  to  the  old  nest  in  the  tree Whitefoot  hurried,  and  presently there  was  quite  a  pile  of  weed  stalks and  soft  grass  and  strips  of  bark  in the  old  nest.  Mrs.  Whitefoot  joined Whitefoot  in  hunting  for  just  the right things,  but  she  spent  more time  In  arranging  the  material. Over  that  old  nest  she  made  a  fine high  roof.  Down  through  the lower  side  she  cut  a  little  round doorway  just  big  enough  for  them to  pass  through.  Unless  you  happened to  be  underneath  looking  up, you  never  would  have  guessed  there was  an  entrance  at  all.  Inside  was a  snug,  round  room,  and  in  this  she made  the  softest  and  most  comfortable of  beds.  As  it  began  to  look more  and  more  like  a  home,  Whitefoot  himself  became  as  excited  and eager  as  Mrs.  Whitefoot  had  been from  the  beginning."  It  certainly is  going  to  be  a  fine  home,"  said Whitefoot.

       ''Didn't  I  tell  you  it  would  be?'' retorted  Mrs.  Whitefoot. 

Back and Next

Mrs. Whitefoot Decides On A Home

'When  Mrs.  Mouse  makes  up  her  mind
Then  Mr.  Mouse  best  get  behind. ' Whitefoot

       Whitefoot  the  Wood  Mouse  was very  proud  of  his  home.  He  showed it  as  he  led  Mrs.  Whitefoot  there. He  felt  sure  that  she  would  say  at once  that  that  would  be  the  place  for them  to  live.  You  remember  that it  was  high  up  in  a  tall,  dead  stub and  had  once  been  the  home  of

Timmy  the  Flying  Squirrel.

       ''There,  my  dear,  what  do  you think of  that?''  said  Whitefoot proudly  as  they  reached  the  little round  doorway. 

       Mrs.  Whitefoot  said  nothing,  but at  once  went  inside.  She  was  gone what  seemed  a  long  time  to  Whitefoot,  anxiously  waiting  outside. You  see,  Mrs.  Whitefoot  is  a  very thorough  small  person,  and  she  was examining  the  inside  of  that  house from  top  to  bottom.  At  last  she appeared  at  the  doorway.

       "Don't  you  think  this  is  a  splendid house?''  asked  Whitefoot  rather timidly.

       ''It  is  very  good  of  its  kind,'' replied  Mrs.  Whitefoot.

       Whitefoot's  heart  sank.  He didn't  like  the  tone  in  which  Mrs. Whitefoot  had  said  that.

       ''Just  what  do  you  mean,  my dear?''  Whitefoot  asked.

       ''I  mean,''   replied  Mrs.   Whitefoot,  in  a  most  decided  way,  ''that it  is  a  very  good  house  for  winter, but  it  won't  do  at  all  for  summer. That  is,  it  won't  do  for  me.  In  the first  place  it  is  so  high  up  that  if  we should  have  babies,  I  would  worry all  the  time  for  fear  the  darlings would  have  a  bad  fall.  Besides,  I don't  like  an  inside  house  for  summer. I  think,  Whitefoot,  we  must look  around  and  find  a  new  home.''

       As  she  spoke  Mrs.  Whitefoot was  already  starting  down  the  stub. Whitefoot  followed.

       ''All  right,  my  dear,  all  right'' said  he  meekly.  "You  know  best. This  seems  to  me  like  a very  fine home,  but  of  course,  if  you  don't  like it  we'll  look  for  another."

       Mrs.  Whitefoot  said  nothing,  but  led  the  way  down  the  tree  with Whitefoot  meekly following.  Then began  a  patient  search  all  about. Mrs.  Whitefoot  appeared  to  know just  what  she  wanted  and  turned  up her  nose  at  several  places  Whitefoot  thought  would  make  fine homes.  She  hardly  glanced  at a  fine  hollow  log  Whitefoot  found. She  merely  poked  her  nose  in  at  asplendid  hole  beneath  the  roots  of an  old  stump.  Whitefoot  began  to grow  tired  from  running  about  and climbing  stumps  and  trees  and bushes.

       He  stopped  to  rest  and  lost  sight of  Mrs.  Whitefoot.  A  moment  later he  heard  her  calling  excitedly. When  he  found  her,  she  was  up  in a  small  tree,  sitting  on  the  edge  of an  old  nest  a  few  feet  above  the ground.  It  was  a  nest  that  had once  belonged  to  Melody  the  Wood Thrush.  Mrs.  Whitefoot  was  sitting on  the  edge  of  it,  and  her  bright eyes  snapped  with  excitement  and pleasure.

       ''I've  found  it!''  she  cried. ''I've  found  it!  It  is  just  what  I have  been  looking  for.''

       ''Found  what?''  Whitefoot  asked. ''I  don't see anything  but an old nest  of  Melody's."

       ''I've  found  the  home  we've  been looking  for,  silly,"  retorted  Mrs. Whitefoot. 

       Still  Whitefoot  stared. "I  don't see  any  house,"  said  he.

       Mrs.  Whitefoot  stamped  her  feet impatiently. "Right  here,  silly," said  she.  ''This  old  nest  will  make us  the  finest  and  safest  home  that ever  was.  No  one  will  ever  think of  looking  for  us here.  We  must get  busy  at  once  and  fix  it  up.''

       Even  then  Whitefoot  didn't  understand. Always  he  had  lived either  in  a  hole  in  the  ground,  or  in a  hollow  stump  or  tree.  How  they were  to  live  in  that  old  nest  he couldn't  see  at  all. 

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Love Fills The Heart of Whitefoot

' Joyous  all  the  winds  that  blow
To  the  heart  with  love  aglow. ' Whitefoot

       It  was  a  wonderful  game  of  hide-and-seek  that  Whitefoot  the  Wood Mouse  was  playing  in  the  dusk  of early  evening.  Whitefoot  was  ''it'' all  the  time.  That  is,  he  was  the one  who  had  to  do  all  the  hunting. Just  who  he  was  hunting  for  he didn't  know.  He  knew  it  was  another Wood  Mouse,  but  it  was  a stranger,  and  do  what  he  would,  he couldn't  get  so  much  as  a  glimpse of  this  little  stranger. He  would drum  with  his  feet  and  after  a  slight pause  there  would  be  an  answering drum.  Then  Whitefoot  would run  as  fast  as  he  could  in  that direction  only  to  find  no  one  at  all. Then  he  would  drum  again  and  the reply  would  come  from  another direction.

       Every  moment  Whitefoot  became more  excited.  He  forgot everything,  even  danger,  in  his  desire to  see  that  little  drummer. Once  or  twice  he  actually  lost  his temper in his disappointment. But this  was  only  for  a  moment.  He was  too  eager  to  find  that  little drummer  to  be  angry  very  long.

       At  last  there  came  a  time  when there  was  no  reply  to  his  drumming. He drummed and  listened, then drummed  again  and  listened.  Nothing was  to  be  heard.  There  was  no reply.    Whitefoot's  heart  sank.

       All  the  old  lonesomeness  crept over  him  again.  He  didn't  know which  way  to  turn  to  look  for  that stranger.  When  he  had  drummed until  he  was  tired,  he  sat  on  the  end of  an  old  log,  a  perfect  picture  of disappointment.  He  was  so  disappointed that  he  could  have  cried  if it  would  have  done  any  good.

       Just  as  he  had  about  made  up  his mind  that  there  was  nothing  to  do  but to  try  to  find  his  way  home,  his  keen little  ears  caught  the  faintest  rustle of  dry  leaves.  Instantly  Whitefoot was  alert  and  watchful.  Long  ago he  had  learned  to  be  suspicious  of rustling  leaves. They  might  have been  rustled  by  the  feet  of  an  enemy stealing  up  on  him.  No  Wood Mouse  who  wants  to  live  long  is ever  heedless  of  rustling  leaves.  As still  as  if  he  couldn't  move,  Whitefoot  sat  staring  at  the  place  from which  that  faint  sound  had  seemed to  come.  For  two  or  three  minutes

he  heard  and  saw  nothing.  Then another  leaf  rustled  a  little  bit  to  one side.  Whitefoot  turned  like  a  flash, his  feet  gathered  under  him  ready for  a  long  jump  for  safety.

       At  first  he  saw  nothing.  Then he  became  aware  of  two  bright,  soft little  eyes  watching  him.  He  stared at  them  very  hard  and  then  all  over him  crept  those  funny  thrills  he had  felt  when  he  had  first  heard the  drumming of  the  stranger. He knew  without  being  told  that  those eyes  belonged  to  the  little  drummer with  whom  he  had  been  playing  hide and  seek  so  long.

       Whitefoot  held  his  breath,  he was  so  afraid  that  those  eyes  would vanish.  Finally  he  rather  timidly jumped  down  from  the  log  and started  toward  those  two  soft  eyes. They  vanished.  Whitefoot's  heart sank.  He  was  tempted  to  rush forward,  but  he  didn't.  He  sat still.  There  was  a  slight  rustle off  to  the  right.  A  little  ray  of moonlight  made  its  way  down through  the  branches  of  the  trees just  there,  and  in  the  middle  of  the light  spot  it  made  sat  a  timid  little person.  It  seemed  to  Whitefoot that  he  was  looking  at   the   most beautiful  Wood  Mouse  in  all  the Great  World.  Suddenly  he  felt very  shy  and  timid  himself.

       "Who ‚who, who  are  you?'' he  stammered.

       ''I  am  little  Miss  Dainty''  replied the  stranger  bashfully.

       Right  then  and  there  Whitefoot's heart  was  filled  so  full  of  something that  it  seemed  as  if  it  would  burst. It  was  love.  All  in  that  instant  he knew  that  he  had  found  the  most wonderful  thing  in  all  the  Great World,  which  of  course  is  love.  He knew  that  he  just  couldn't  live without  little Miss  Dainty. 

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Little Miss Dainty.

Mr. and Mrs. Whitefoot

'When  all  is  said  and  all  is  done
'Tis  only  love  of  two  makes  one.' Whitefoot

       Little  Miss  Dainty,  the  most beautiful  and  wonderful  Wood Mouse  in  all  the  Great  World,  according to  Whitefoot,  was  very  shy  and very  timid.  It  took  Whitefoot  a  long time  to  make  her  believe  that  he really  couldn't  live  without  her.  At least,  she  pretended  not  to  believe  it. If  the  truth  were  known,  little  Miss Dainty  felt  just  the  same  way  about Whitefoot.  But  Whitefoot  didn't know  this,  and  I  am  afraid  she teased  him  a  great  deal  before  she told  him  that  she  loved  him  just as  he  loved  her.

       But  at  last  little  Miss  Dainty shyly  admitted  that  she  loved  Whitefoot  just  as  much  as  he loved  her  and was  willing  to  become  Mrs.  Whitefoot.  Secretly  she  thought  Whitefoot  the  most wonderful  Wood  Mouse in  the  Great  World,  but  she  didn't tell  him  so.  The  truth  is,  she  made him  feel  as  if  she  were  doing  him  a great  favor.

       As  for  Whitefoot,  he  was  so happy  that  he  actually  tried  to  sing. Yes,  sir,  Whitefoot  tried  to  sing,  and he  really  did  very  well  for  a  Mouse. He  was  ready  and  eager  to  do  anything  that  Mrs.  Whitefoot  wanted  to do.  Together  they  scampered  about in  the  moonlight,  hunting  for  good things  to  eat,  and  poking  their  inquisitive little  noses  into  every  little place  they  could  find.  Whitefoot forgot  that  he  had  ever  been  sad  and lonely.  He  raced  about  and  did  all sorts  of  funny  things  from  pure  joy, but  he  never  once  forgot  to  watch out  for  danger.  In  fact  he  was  more watchful  than  ever,  for  now  he  was watching  for  Mrs. Whitefoot  as  well as  for  himself.

       At  last  Whitefoot  rather  timidly suggested  that  they  should  go  see his  fine  home  in  a  certain  hollow stub.  Mrs.  Whitefoot  insisted  that they  should  go  to  her  home. Whitefoot  agreed  on  condition  that she  would  afterwards  visit  his  home. So  together  they  went  back  to  Mrs. Whitefoot's  home. Whitefoot  pretended  that  he  liked  it  very  much,  but in  his  heart  he  thought  his  own  home was  very  much  better,  and  he  felt quite  sure  that  Mrs.  Whitefoot  would agree  with  him  once  she  had  seen  it.

       But  Mrs.  Whitefoot  was  very  well satisfied  with  her  old  home  and  not  at all  anxious  to  leave  it.  It  was  in  an old  hollow  stump  close  to  the  ground. It  was  just  such  a  place  as Shadow the  Weasel  would  be  sure  to  visit should  he  happen  along  that  way. It  didn't  seem  at  all  safe to  Whitefoot.  In  fact  it  worried  him.  Then, too,  it  was  not  in  such  a  pleasant place  as  was  his  own  home.  Of course  he  didn't  say  this,  but  pretended  to  admire  everything.

       Two  days  and  nights  they  spent there.  Then  Whitefoot  suggested they visit his home next.

Back and Next

Whitefoot Finds Out What The Matter Was

' Pity  the  lonely,  for  deep  in  the  heart
Is  an  ache  that  no  doctor  can  heal  by  his
art. ' Whitefoot,

       Of  all  the  little  people  of  the Green  Forest  Whitefoot  seemed  to be  the  only  one  who  was  unhappy. And  because  he  didn't  know  why he  felt  so  he  became  day  by  day more  unhappy.  Perhaps  I  should say  that  night  by  night  he  became more  unhappy,  for  during  the brightness  of  the  day  he  slept  most of  the  time.

       ''There  is  something  wrong,  something wrong''  he  would  say  over  and over  to  himself.  

       ''It  must  be  with  me,  because everybody  else  is   happy,  and  this is  the  happiest  time  of  all  the  year. I  wish  someone  would  tell  me what  ails  me.  I  want  to  be  happy, but  somehow  I  just  can't  be''

       One  evening  he  wandered  a  little farther  from  home  than  usual.  He wasn't  going  anywhere  in  particular. He  had  nothing  in  particular to  do.  He  was  just  wandering about  because  somehow  he couldn't  remain  at  home.  Not far  away  Melody  the  Wood  Thrush was  pouring  out  his  beautiful evening  song.  Whitefoot  stopped to  listen.  Somehow  it  made  him more  unhappy  than  ever.  Melody stopped  singing  for  a  few  moments. It   was  just   then    that    Whitefoot heard  a  faint  sound.  It  was a  gentle  drumming.  Whitefoot pricked  up  his  ears  and  listened. There  it  was  again.  He  knew  instantly how  that  sound  was  made. It  was  made  by  dainty  little  feet beating  very  fast  on  an  old  log. Whitefoot  had  drummed  that  way himself  many  times.  It  was  soft, but  clear,  and  it  lasted  only  a moment.

       Right  then  something  very strange  happened  to  Whitefoot. Yes,  sir,  something  very  strange happened  to  Whitefoot.  All  in  a flash  he  felt  better.  At  first  he didn't  know  why.  He  just  did, that  was  all.  Without  thinking; what  he  was  doing,  he  began  to drum  himself. Then  he   listened. At  first  he  heard  nothing.  Then, soft  and  low,  came  that  drumming sound  again.  Whitefoot replied  to it.  All  the  time  he  kept  feeling better.  He  ran  a  little  nearer  to the  place  from  which that  drumming sound  had  come  and  then once  more  drummed.  At  first  he got  no  reply.

       Then  in  a  few  minutes  he  heard It  again,  only  this  time  it  came  from a  different  place. Whitefoot  became quite  excited.  He  knew  that that  drumming  was  done  by  another Wood Mouse,  and  all  in  a  flash  it came  over  him  what  had  been  the matter  with  him.

       ''I  have  been  lonely!''  exclaimed Whitefoot.  ''That  is  all that  has  been  the  trouble  with  me. I  have  been  lonely  and  didn't  know it.  I  wonder  if  that  other  Wood Mouse  has  felt  the  same way.''

       Again  he  drummed  and  again came  that  soft  reply.  Once  more Whitefoot  hurried  in  the  direction of  it,  and  once  more  he  was  disappointed when  the  next  reply  came from  a  different  place.  By  now  he was  getting  quite  excited.  He  was bound  to  find  that  other  Wood Mouse. Every  time  he  heard  that drumming,  funny  little  thrills  ran all  over  him.  He  didn't  know why.  They  just  did,  that  was  all. He  simply  must  find  that  other Wood  Mouse.  He  forgot  evervthing  else.  He  didn't  even  notice where  he  was  going.  He  would drum,  then   wait   for  a  reply. As soon  as  he  heard  it,  he  would scamper  in  the  direction  of  it,  and then  pause  to  drum  again. Sometimes the  reply  would  be  very  near, then  again  it  would  be  so  far  away that  a  great  fear would  fill  Whitefoot's  heart  that  the  stranger  was running  away.

Back and Next

Whitefoot The Wood Mouse Is Unhappy

' Unhappiness  without  a  cause  you  never,
never  find ;
It  may  be  in  the  stomach,  or  it  may  be
in  the  mind. ' Whitefoot

       Whitefoot  the  Wood  Mouse should  have  been  happy,  but  he wasn't.  Winter  had  gone  and  sweet Mistress  Spring  had  brought  joy to  all  the  Green  Forest.  Every one  was  happy,  Whitefoot  no  less so  than  his  neighbors  at  first. Up  from  the  Sunny  South  came the  feathered  friends  and  at  once began  planning  new  homes.Twitterings  and  songs  filled  the  air. Joy  was  everywhere.  Food  became plentiful,  and  Whitefoot  became sleek  and  fat.  That  is,  he became  as  fat  as  a  lively  Wood Mouse  ever  does  become.  None of  his  enemies  had  discovered  his new  home,  and  he  had  little  to worry  about.

       But  by  and  by  Whitefoot  began to  feel  less  joyous.  Day  by day  he  grew  more  and  more  unhappy. He  no  longer  took  pleasure  in  his fine  home.  He  began  to  wander about  for  no particular  reason.  He wandered  much  farther  from  home than  he  had  ever  been  in  the  habit  of doing.  At  times  he  would  sit  and listen,  but  what  he  was  listening for  he   didn't  know.

       "There  is  something  the  matter with  me,  and  I  don't  know  what it  is,'  said  Whitefoot  to  himself forlornly.  ''It  can't  be  anything I  have  eaten.  I  have  nothing  to worry  about.  Yet  there  is something wrong  with  me.  I'm  losing my  appetite.  Nothing  tastes good  any  more.  I  want  something, but  I  don't  know  what  it is  I  want."

       He  tried  to  tell  his  troubles to  his  nearest  neighbor,  Timmy the  Flying  Squirrel,  but  Timmy was  too  busy  to  listen.  When Peter  Rabbit  happened  along, Whitefoot  tried  to  tell  him.  But Peter himself  was  too  happy  and too  eager  to  learn  all  the  news in    the     Green    Forest    to    listen. 

       No  one  had  any  interest  in  Whitefoot's  troubles.  Every  one  was too  busy  with  his  own  affairs.

       So  day  by  day  Whitefoot  the Wood  Mouse  grew  more  and  more unhappy,  and  when  the  dusk  of  early evening  came  creeping  through  the Green  Forest,  he  sat  about  and moped  instead  of  running  about and  playing  as  he  had  been  in the  habit  of  doing.  The  beautiful song  of  Melody  the  Wood Thrush  somehow  filled  him  with sadness  instead  of  with  the  joy he  had  always  felt  before.  The very  happiness  of  those  about him  seemed  to  make  him  more unhappy.

       Once  he  almost  decided  to  go hunt  for  another  home,  but  somehow  lie  couldn't  get  interested even  in  this.  He  did  start  out, but  he  had  not  gone  far  before he  had  forgotten  all  about  what he had  started  for.  Always  he had  loved  to  run  about  and  climb and  jump  for  the  pure  pleasure of it, but  now  he  no  longer  did these  things.  He  was  unhappy, was Whitefoot. Yes,  sir,  he  was unhappy; and  for  no  cause  at all  so  far  as  he  could  see. 

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