This conclusion was further impressed upon him very forcibly a few hours
later. When he was certain that the fox had left the vicinity for good, he
crawled through his tunnel to the ground, and began feeding on the wild
grasses, leaves and strange plants that grew so thickly in the woods.

Most of the plants were new to him. He hardly recognized any of them. Some
were sweet and juicy, and others were so bitter that one taste was enough.
No one could help him in the selection of his food, and he had to trust to
his instinct.

But instinct isn't always a safe guide when one is not familiar with his
surroundings. Now just what plant it was that disagreed with him Bumper
never knew. His little stomach was so full of leaves and plants that when
he first began to feel sick and giddy he thought it was due to overeating.

"I'll just lie down in the shade now and rest," he said. "Then when I feel
better I'll hop around and find a place to spend the night."

This was a wise decision, but it wasn't a cure. Something he had eaten
clearly disagreed with him. Instead of growing better he felt worse the
longer he rested. In time he was feeling so sick and giddy that if Mr. Fox
had appeared he would have made short work of Bumper. His groans soon
attracted the birds, and they flew to where he was lying and asked him the
trouble.

"I'm dying, I think," moaned Bumper. "I must have eaten some poisonous
plant, and I know I'm dying."

The birds were startled by this information, and they held an immediate
consultation.