Good evening and welcome to Dreamtime Stories with Jackie.
Thank you so much for joining me for your bedtime story.
We're reading The Exciting Adventures of Bob White.
And in chapter 17,
Which we read last time,
There was a terrible hunter on opening day of hunting season.
So snuggle down in your bed and get your blankets just the way you like them.
Maybe take a big breath and a stretch.
Oh yeah,
It's bedtime.
And here we go,
Chapter 18.
The Disappointed Hunter It never does to count upon a thing until you're sure.
It's often less than you expect.
But very seldom more.
The hunter who had shot one of the birds gleefully went forward to pick up that poor little brown bird.
He was having what he called sports.
It never entered his mind to think of how the little bobwhite would feel.
He probably didn't think that birds had any feelings at all.
He was pleased that he had made a successful shot,
And he was pleased to think that he would have that little brown bird to eat.
Though when he reached the place where he had seen the little bird fall,
There was no little brown bird there.
No,
Sir.
There was not any sign of that little bird save for a few feathers.
You see,
He hadn't gotten the little bird as he thought,
But had broken a wing so it could not fly.
But there was nothing the matter with its legs,
And no sooner had it hit the ground than it had run as fast as ever it could through the stubble.
So the little bobwhite wasn't where the hunter was looking for it at all.
Of course,
His dog helped him to hunt,
And with that wonderful nose of his,
He soon found the scent of that little bobwhite.
And eagerly followed it.
It just happened that in that field,
Near where the little bobwhite fell was an old home of Johnny Chuck,
And all around the entrance to it was sand that had been spread out.
Now sand does not hold scent.
The little Bob White knew nothing about that,
For he had not lived long enough to learn all that a Bob White has to learn.
But he did see an open doorway.
Across the yellow sand he ran and into that doorway and just a little way down the hall,
Where he hid under some dry brown leaves which had blown in there.
He was almost the color of them himself,
As he squatted close to the ground and drew his feathers as close to his body as possible.
In doing this,
He was doing a very wise thing,
Although he didn't know it at the time.
You see,
His feathers drawn tightly against his body that way prevented the scent which might have told the keen nose of that dog where he was.
As it was,
The dog lost the scent at the edge of the sand,
And neither he nor the hunter once thought to look in that old hole.
So while they hunted and hunted.
The little Bob White squatted perfectly still,
Though his broken wing hurt him dreadfully,
And the ache of it made his eyes fill with tears.
At last the hunter gave up the search.
He was too impatient to maybe get some more birds.
Maybe I just wounded him,
" said he,
Without once thinking of how dreadful it must be to be wounded.
And with that,
He sent his dog on to try to find the little Bob White brothers and sisters.
His terrible gun was held ready to shoot the instant he should see one of them.
He was having great sport that day,
Was that hunter,
While in the hall of Johnny Chuck's old house lay a little brown Bob White,
Faint with suffering and dreadful fright.
It would have been bad enough to simply have had such fright,
But to have a broken wing,
Oh,
And because of this,
He felt quite helpless.
Well,
You can imagine how that would feel.
I couldn't imagine anything worse.
So come back again soon.
For chapter 19.
And I hope you have a wonderful night.
This is Jackie sending you so many hugs.
Good night now.
