In the evening Otu nevertheless came to the edge of the forest to see if the people had perhaps left. Yet they hadn't. In front of the shed there was burning an open fire, the people were sitting around it and from there came old familiar smells, those of human food that Otu hadn't been able to taste for a while now. This grieved him. It would have been rather pleasant to lap up some warm broth or eat a piece of fried meat or some such like. Yet Otu knew that he couldn't hope here for anything like that. Had he shown himself, he would have just caused an uproar and commotion and perhaps even ended up worse off.

Therefore he retreated with a feeling of regret and felt that he didn't want to come back here any more. He was surprised to see that the grass had been cut in the meadow and for that reason the entire surroundings looked rather unfamiliar. No, no, away from here, where it wasn't as cosy any more as it used to be.

Otu walked round all night looking for a new abode. He had never before ventured as far as now, as he had considered the shed a central point. Everywhere in the meadow he saw people and mown grass. Yet he sensed somehow that it wasn't going to stay like this for ever, which reassured him. Soon the people were going to disappear again and then Otu could start to live and hunt undisturbed as before.

The morning was already approaching, when Otu noticed a haystack in a corner of a meadow. He was familiar with haystacks, his master had made them, too, near the home on the edge of the fir-grove. In such a haystack it was also comfortable to sleep, a fact that Otu knew from experience. Of course they didn't offer as secure a shelter as sheds, yet one could get by for the time being with a haystack, if no better accommodation was available just then.

Examining the haystack more closely, Otu noticed that it was a special stack, quite different from those that his master had made. This stack had a roof like the shed and it had four poles, one in each corner, in between which the hay had been placed in a square like a house. Otu couldn't of course grasp all this in geometric terms, yet he realized that it was not a bad flat, where one could settle in perhaps for even longer.

Otu climbed up along one of the poles and found that it could be quite pleasant to live underneath this roof. There was almost half a metre of airy space between this roof and the hay where the rain and the wind could not reach, as the hay in the middle had been trampled down by feet, whilst it remained loose on the sides, with the roof giving protection from above.

One imagined it to be really pleasant to sleep high up there, about four to five metres above the ground, especially when the rain was rattling on the roof and the cold wind was rumpling the hay. No fox or lynx could get up here from the ground level. That Otu did realize, as the lynx, a large and heavy animal, couldn't climb up such a thin and slippery pole as those four were. Yet it was no bother for the cat.

Snakes couldn't get up here either. And who else was there for Otu to fear? Perhaps a crow or some other bird could fly onto the roof—and Otu could sleep underneath them smiling smugly, as those fellows wouldn't know how close was their death—Otu himself. Yet Otu also understood that it wouldn't be possible to catch those birds from the roof: you show your face from below the roof and the two-legged creatures with wings would be gone immediately. But what a fright they would get and how they would then scream when flying away!

This mental picture cheered Otu up considerably. He sat down on top of the stack underneath the roof, licked his coat clean of dew and eyed in a matter-of-fact way the meadows stretching beneath him. In these surroundings the people had already clone their job and had gone away. Only haystacks had remained. There were no sheds here. And Otu didn't need those now either. He realized, not thinking as clearly as people, somehow more sensing, that it was good to live here also because from high one could always see every movement in the vicinity: be it a duck or a black grouse with brood, some baby rabbit or a flight of young starlings. In addition to mice Otu had already long ago learnt to hunt other smaller animals and birds as well. He was, by the way, quite severely punished for it as we will soon learn.

At the moment he was cleaning his coat and observing with pleasure how the morning mist was rising from the meadow and how bushes and small birches were cold and damp down there in the fog, whilst he, Otu, was warm and cosy up here. The red ball of the sun barely managed to penetrate the fog and look at Otu; the entire meadow, every tree and plant was full of wet dew that glistened coolly in the sunshine.

And Otu, having dried out his coat, made himself a warm hollow in the middle of the stack and climbed into it. He dreamt of nothing but young black grouse and ducks, and when he woke up, the sun was already nearing midday, the cold dew and fog had disappeared and it was blazing hot below the roof.

Thus the days started to pass in Otu's new flat. People disappeared from all the meadows and Otu could once again prowl round everywhere and hunt freely.

However, after Otu had started to hunt birds he went through a couple of rather bitter experiences, which made his life slightly more difficult once again. At home the cat is not allowed to catch birds, for that he gets beaten. In the forest, Otu thought, one could do it without getting punished. Yet in a strange way it became clear that even here one could get a painful hiding for it.

A big old owl gave him the first lesson in this matter. Skulking round in the forest one night Otu noticed an owl sitting on a low tree-stump lying in wait for mice. Otu had caught small young birds and he hadn't had any difficulties with those,—needing only to kill them when you have managed to creep up. But already earlier Otu's opinion of birds was such that those flying two-legged creatures didn't count for much: they didn't have a proper mouth or teeth, not to mention the claws; in Otu's mind they were nothing more than dandies, whom, if possible, one had to grab with a paw to catch them, or at least, if they couldn't be caught, one could smile scornfully at them.

Seeing the owl sitting on a low tree-stump, Otu thought that perhaps it was slightly too big, yet it still was of that odd breed of birds—with two legs, two wings and a crooked beak, which doesn't contain teeth. What is such a creature capable of doing if one attacked him and struck him with the paw? At least one would obtain food for several days, as there ought to be a reasonably sized body underneath the feathers.

And Otu started to slink silently towards the owl. It was after all night and Otu thought that the owl, a bird, couldn't see in the dark—as he could. Otu wasn't yet aware that there were such birds too, who could see even better at night than cats.

Otu sneaked rather boldly, thinking that in such darkness the owl couldn't at all distinguish him from the ground. The main thing was that it shouldn't hear the slightest rustle.

But what a fright and horror it was when the owl suddenly took off with a whoosh and fell like a gust of wind onto Otu's back. It was worse still than a full blown storm,—there was someone as if stabbing Otu's back with a sharp knife. And the claws of the owl—ouch! those were breaking Otu's skin as if they were iron skewers. There was absolutely no chance for Otu to kill the owl: he had to see how he himself could escape alive! The owl held on to him with one leg whilst he was striking blows with the other leg and beak, so that in the real sense of the word the fur was flying from Otu's back in all directions. Otu screamed, in pain and fear, so that the entire forest echoed. And when he finally escaped from the owl's claws, he ran like mad into a thicket, still screaming and whining all the time. The owl didn't give up so easily, but instead he followed Otu and wanted to claim him as its booty. Fortunately the thicket where Otu found himself was so dense that the owl couldn't follow the cat in the bushes, otherwise Otu would have lost his life between those claws. A large owl can kill and eat even a big hare, and the cat is a smaller animal than the hare. Although the cat has good teeth and claws of a kind that hares don't have, nevertheless he doesn't have the strength of a large owl. The owl's beak is like a knife, striking with it he can kill any smaller animal. Otu escaped only because he struggled skilfully as cats always do, and thus the blows of the owl didn't all strike home, The hare for example is easier prey for the owl because he doesn't put up such a determined resistance as the cat.

Having escaped from the owl, Otu sheltered for a long time in the bushes and licked those wounds within reach. He miaowed and moaned quietly, fearing still that perhaps this thief with wings would attack him again. Otu was ill for several weeks after this adventure, only just feeding himself with mice and rats, whom he hadn't much cared for lately, and didn't even dare to think of birds. In any case he couldn't have hunted birds any more, as the young ones had grown up in the meantime and it wasn't easy to get hold of them, particularly when being ill and crippled as Otu was at the moment. He hadn't managed to catch adult birds even when healthy.

Thus Otu was punished severely for catching birds.

Nevertheless, when the autumn arrived and his wounds had already healed and his health was back to normal, Otu still made an attempt to catch a young stork in the swamp.

It was terribly enticing—this young stork. In Otu's opinion the bird was rather helpless and silly, when he hobbled around on his long legs amongst the tussocks and bushes. And it was terribly easy to creep up to him as he was walking through the undergrowth, and nothing was simpler for Otu than to crawl behind a bush and then suddenly jump out in order to grab hold of this long-beaked and long-legged youngster.

This is not an owl, Otu probably thought. In his mind he depicted the owl now as a real horror, a blood-thirsty thief with shiny eyes. The young stork gave the impression of having just recently left his nest—and of course this was actually the case. He seemed for the cat to be so helpless, pitiful, weak and clumsy.

Otu took a risk, the temptation was great, the prey seemed easily obtainable. This isn't an owl, he encouraged himself.

He jumped suddenly from the bushes to attack the stork. Yet, to his astonishment surprises lay in wait for him this time too. The young stork—however helpless it had seemed to be for Otu—wasn't in reality that helpless at all. At least he performed a trick that Otu was totally unprepared for: he jumped on both legs very high in front of Otu and landed several metres further away, and when Otu wanted to attack him again, the old stork appeared from behind a bush. Smack! and smack! the old stork's beak gave a couple of blows onto Otu's shoulders. These weren't quite such dreadful blows as those of the owl, yet they were hard enough to make Otu flee in panic. And the old stork ran after him for quite a long way and gave Otu a few more good whacks. The pain forced screams to come from Otu's mouth.

From that time on Otu didn't have the courage to hunt for "two-legged winged creatures". Perhaps he would even have tried to trouble some smaller birds, but, as mentioned earlier, he couldn't get near the old birds, and the young ones had already grown sufficiently to be able to fend for themselves against the cat.

The autumn arrived. Otu's life became much harder now, as there was less to catch. Mice crept deep into their burrows, where they had hoarded supplies for the winter, the river was full to the banks because of heavy rain and for Otu therefore catching fish had also become difficult and had meagre results.

What to live on? This question started to bother Otu instinctively. He had to crouch now for a long time near a mousehole and freeze before some of its inhabitants came out and Otu could catch them. On one or two occasions, a couple of days passed so wretchedly that Otu caught nothing at all. And then he had to go hungry.

On one such hungry day Otu stumbled upon the den of a fox somewhere in the forest. Otu immediately recognized from the smell whose abode it was, his hackles rose and his first thought was—quickly to disappear from here.

Yet then he sniffed thoroughly and reached the conclusion that it was indeed a fox's den, only just that the fox wasn't in it at the moment. I dare say he was able to recognize such distinctions.

This is why he remained underneath the bush for the time being, as being hungry, he also could detect keenly other scents in and around the den. He couldn't do anything else but stay there, the hunger forced him; he sneaked to the entrance of the den and found some remains that the fox had dropped during his mealtimes or had thrown out of the den. The fox was now enjoying days of plenty. There were many rabbits, ducks, black grouse, partridges everywhere—both in the forest and the fields—and Reynard was thus able to feast to abundance every day and even leave remains,—the not so nice bits that didn't taste so good during such a time of plenty. Of course, the fox is never interested in saving: when there is plenty, he wastes a lot, when there isn't, he goes hungry.

Here Otu found wing and leg bones of birds that still had some meat clinging to them; likewise there were rabbits' ribs and legs that were quite good for the cat to gnaw when hungry.

Otu did realize that such a course of action—sitting right in front of the fox's den and eating the food caught by him—was risky. Yet Otu had become braver and more skilled during the summer and was able to find a way out of any situation. Now too he chose a suitable tree where he could jump to safety should the owner of the den suddenly leap out from behind the bushes.

Lord Reynard had probably gone for a longer journey and Otu took real pleasure in eating whatever he could find. He smiled smugly into his whiskers, when he set out towards home, the haystack.

And from then onwards the fox's den became indispensable when there wasn't anything much to be found elsewhere. It was alright for the fox—he was a much bigger animal than Otu, he wasn't afraid of owls or storks or other bigger birds, and as his forebears had lived all the time in the forest, he knew how to hunt rabbits, black grouse, duck and partridge. Otu had at times dreamt of rabbits, but first of all he wasn't sure where to find them and how to keep track of them, and secondly he didn't know how to creep up to them like the fox used to do.

Otu's habit of catching birds had been thoroughly broken by the owl and the stork. With hunger Otu perhaps would have heeded nothing, even not those painful lessons that the owl and the stork had given him; he would still have attempted to catch a black grouse or partridge, but he wasn't skilful and experienced enough for that. He had been able to approach the stork and the owl to some extent because they fear no-one apart from the fox; young birds he had been able to catch because of their stupidity, but he was not capable of undertaking anything else in this field. When he went from time to time to obtain food from around the fox's den, he felt most unwell. First of all—the fear, secondly—the bad feeling that life had once again become so difficult that it was necessary to do such things: to go to the doorstep of one's arch-enemy to pick up remains. Otu of course couldn't think about it like a human being, yet he had a kind of foreboding.

And indeed this scavenging in front of the fox's den came to a rather unpleasant ending.

Once, when he was again engaged there, quietly cracking duck bones, the fox appeared from behind a mound. He was surprised to the extent that he stopped for quite a while,—the fox hadn't expected the cat to be brave enough to come and sneak food from his own doorstep! And when he had recovered from this shock, he came like a red streak to attack the cat. The cat had to be punished—and this time he surely had to become a meal for the fox!

However, Otu too had already noticed the fox and flew up the tree.

Now the previous state of affairs repeated itself: the siege of the cat up in a tree. However, as it happened now right in front of the fox's den, the situation was several times more dangerous for the cat this time.

The fox could now, being at home so to speak, keep the cat in the tree for several days. He lay down in front of the den, pretended sleep, walked around for entertainment, yawned, even at times entered the den and started finally to eat the rabbit brought from the forest.

How unpleasant it was for Otu to witness this meal with an empty stomach from high in the tree!

The fox was eating and threw at times an impudent glance in the cat's direction: look, soon I'll be eating you in the same manner.

Fortunately this Otu wasn't any more like that Otu who in the spring had looked for protection from the fox in a tree. Now Otu was adroit, tenacious and practised in all kinds of situations. Now his muscles were strong, his body light, and despite being hungry he was much more energetic than in the spring.

Yet hour after hour passed, the fox naturally didn't intend to give up the siege—and there was no need for him to do so, as he was at home.

However, Otu's situation started to become more and more precarious in spite of him being much more tenacious now than in the spring. Otu's legs started to feel numb, his limbs stiffened, hunger and cold tormented him, as the days were already rather cool.

What to do?

When it started to get dark, Otu decided to take a risk: as soon as the fox once again entered his den, Otu came down from the tree and took to his heels. However the fox heard the scrabbling noises and was at once out of the den. Seeing the cat escape, the fox quickly followed him. Of course the fox is a faster runner than the cat, but Otu had taken this into consideration. When the fox started to catch up with him, Otu again ran up a tree and thus he had achieved quite a lot: he had stretched his stiff limbs a little and had ran a fair distance away from the fox's den.

The fox's stomach was full and he was sleepy, as he couldn't sleep properly during the siege near the den. He lay down here too—and soon fell truly asleep, the more so as he wasn't that interested in the cat at this moment, rather he followed him more for fun than hunger.

The cat soon realized that the fox was soundly asleep and wasn't just pretending. Once again he came down from the tree, but this time very quietly so as not to wake up the fox, he then sneaked silently along the ground for some distance and then took to his heels once again. Otu didn't know whether the fox had heard or if he was still peacefully asleep, he just tried to get away from the area as quickly as possible.

Thus when the autumn arrived Otu's life started to get harder with every day. Having escaped again from the fox, he had to go to sleep with an empty stomach. It was only the following day that he managed to catch some mice.

Yet some days later, at night, Otu had once again a rather dangerous experience.

He had just lain down on his bed in the stack underneath the roof to go to sleep, when he heard some animal scrabbling up a corner-pole, exactly like Otu had always done.

Who could it be?! Otu probably asked himself and sat up. Perhaps another cat? The fox couldn't get up here and neither could the lynx, that Otu understood well enough, besides one could judge by the noise that the climber wasn't a big animal.

Perhaps some rat?! Let him come! Otu would have no mercy on him and would thus have a nice supper.

However, Otu had never seen such a guest who finally appeared. Its head was short, snout rounded. The fur was brown on the back, darker blackish brown underneath the stomach. Along the stomach there was an indistinct reddish brown stripe. Underneath the chin, the tips of the ears and the end of the snout were yellowish white, only the nose was black; behind the eyes there was a large curved bright spot.

Such an animal Otu had never seen before. And Otu noticed particularly the animal's big sharp teeth that were in his half-open red mouth.

Otu didn't understand at first how big this animal exactly was, as its body was partly concealed in the hay. However, in any case he didn't seem to be smaller than Otu, he could sooner be slightly bigger. And this beast stank terribly as if he had fallen into who knows what kind of an obnoxious hole and had then climbed out with the stench clinging to him.

Otu's fur bristled, he bared his teeth, made himself as big as possible and growled threateningly.

From the mouth of the strange animal came a noise as if a magpie was chattering on a fence-pole, and it was even slightly funny in this frightful situation.

Thus they were squatting, facing each other ready to jump, the cat and the polecat, as the polecat was namely the guest whom Otu didn't know. They eyed and assessed one another and considered what to do next. It was quite possible that the polecat hadn't seen a cat before either, as he lived deep in the forest and had never been to any settlement.

However, the polecat is a more blood-thirsty and fiery animal than the cat. He is full of evil and malice. The fox is in this sense innocuous compared with him.

Suddenly the polecat attacked the cat and now he hissed almost like a snake. In the ensuing fight this noise changed from time to time into a moaning whine.

Otu gave a shriek of distress and soon their teeth were in each other's coats. They were tossing each other about all over the place, yet soon the cat felt that the teeth of his enemy were sharper than his. The cat tried to get at the polecat's throat, but at the same time the polecat tried for some reason to bite the cat's neck. Otu didn't know that this was always the main thrust of the polecat: to bite through the large artery in his victim's neck.

At first the combatants weren't able to inflict any substantial damage on one another, as each was strong enough to prevent the other from biting properly, instead they avoided it by their writhing and moving about.

Yet in this struggle the cat started to feel more and more painfully the other's sharp teeth on his skin, whilst his own teeth became entangled in the thick coat of the polecat and didn't inflict any real damage on the owner of the coat.

The cat realized that he could get into trouble if he didn't free himself from this fierce biter. This might in the end cost him his life.

Yet what should he do to save himself?

With a sudden movement Otu tore himself loose from the paws of the polecat, went down the pole at speed and dashed up the old fir tree growing next to the haystack.

At the same time he saw that the polecat was a more skilful and agile climber than himself. And whilst the cat was afraid of thin branches and of jumping, the polecat scurried along the tree like a squirrel.

Now there was nothing else left for Otu than to try and escape. He came down from the fir tree and took to his heels. Where to? He himself didn't know. Only further away, to save his life, as his legs seemed to be the only possible way out.

And this was a right thing to do. The legs of the polecat are short, he isn't even as good a runner as a cat. Soon he fell far behind the cat and eventually gave up the pursuit altogether.

Yet he chose Otu's haystack for his abode now and made himself thoroughly at home there.

Otu didn't have the courage to return to the haystack any more. He roamed all night in the forest and finally looked out his old abode—the shed, where he had slept before the haymakers had arrived. He found it to be full of hay and this abode was in many ways better than the haystack—it was protected from the wind, was warmer and more snug. Yet the recent terrible experiences and the hunger had lowered Otu's morale considerably; he felt unwell, feared the winter and realized quite rightly that should he stay in the forest for the winter, he would perish from cold and hunger. Whilst a domestic cat, if he was diligent, could indeed live in the forest in summer, in winter he could not compete in obtaining food with the fox and the polecat, themselves age-old forest inhabitants who know how to feed themselves even during the coldest times.

Quite possibly Otu would have perished in the forest in winter, if he hadn't received help from where he came from—his old home, his birthplace and his proper living place.

Mistress Anu heard in summer from the haymakers that they had seen in the shed a grey cat, who scurried away to the forest. She told the master about it and added herself:

"So Otu wasn't that lazy after all if he managed to stay alive in the forest. Who else would this cat in the shed be than our Otu?"

"So he probably forgot his laziness out of necessity," smiled Master Aado. "This is why I took him to the forest, so that he would exert himself a little and get rid of this laziness. Here, at home, he would have otherwise perished—the mice would have eaten him."

And the master laughed.

"So do you intend to bring him back from the forest then?" inquired Mistress Anu.

But the master just waved with his hand dismissively:

"How should one look for the cat in the large forest! If he survived till haymaking time, he'll survive in the future too. There he will eat mice—out of need, there the mice won't run any more past his nose, without him noticing them."

"But in winter poor Otu will freeze to death!" wailed the tender-hearted mistress. "And then his death will be on my conscience. The haymakers said that he looked good, with a coat like silk and lithe like a weasel. There is a cat for you! And such a cat you took to the forest to die!"

"Yet at home he was a sleepyhead and ugly like an old condemned wretch!" argued the master. "And should I find him now in the forest, here at home he would soon once again become a lazybones and drowsyhead."

"So what," replied the mistress. "I'll feed him until he dies and I won't demand anything from him. Let him sleep near the stove... "

"And he'll be stealing from the table... " added the master.

"Let him steal!" retorted the mistress. "What will it add up to if he steals? Just a few bits and pieces. But when in winter he freezes to death in the forest, I'll be guilty of his death. And he is after all an able cat if he copes now on his own in the forest."

This was the end of the conversation for the time being.

During the summer the mistress talked about it several more times, but as the weather was warm and the winter was far away, it didn't go beyond talking.

Yet when the autumn arrived, the mistress started to worry more and more about Otu and bored the master to tears with talking about it. Secretly the worry about Otu also slipped into the master's heart, as he wasn't a hard person either and felt compassion for animals like his wife did.

"But could I find him?" he questioned, when the conversation turned to Otu again. "I won't be able to walk through the entire forest calling for the cat, like one does in one's own backyard. That would be ridiculous."

However, the mistress thought that Otu would now once again be in the shed, having been there in the summer.

"At haymaking time he moved out, but he probably came back later. Cats keep homes—and this shed is his home now. I'll come with you—on a Sunday—, otherwise he'll be afraid of you and won't let you near, thinking who knows what you would do to him now. He'll trust me more."

And it was quite right what the mistress said.

One day when Otu was lying in the shed suffering from an empty stomach, as nowadays he only seldom caught a mouse, he was surprised to hear his mistress's voice calling him from the edge of the forest.

"Otu, dear Otu! Puss, puss, pussy, where are you?!"

This voice struck Otu like lightning. And he forgot everything else—where he was and what he had lived through, he just heard the friendly voice of his mistress and everything else was as if a dream.

Otu slipped out of the shed, lifted his tail up and said with a quiet submissive voice:

"Miaow!"

"Otu, dear Otu!" the mistress saw him approaching. "Look, how thin he has become, poor fellow! Come here, pussycat, don't worry any more, now we'll go home. You can sleep as much as you like and eat what we eat. You belong to our home, one can't let you freeze in the forest."

And the mistress bent down and started to stroke Otu.

Otu found the mistress's hand so soft and warm, although she had actually rough working hands, and as the weather was already quite wintery, the hand wasn't even warm then.

"Look what a silky coat Otu has!" exclaimed the mistress to the master. "And he himself is so long and straight, albeit thin. And he isn't at all sleepy any more. Our Otu has grown young, a good five years younger than he was at home."

"In all likelihood he'll get old again at home," smiled the master.

"Let him, let him," the mistress threw down her hands. "We ourselves are old, too."

The mistress offered Otu some fat pork, a piece of which she had brought along with her. Despite being hungry Otu only took a little taste, he was so happy with the reunion.

And then the mistress picked Otu up—and they started the journey home through the forest, the trees and bushes of which were covered by the first snow. Although the forest looked beautiful in this snow, Otu felt even happier, because he was sitting in his mistress's lap.

At home the master and mistress had a surprise.

After Otu had been in the house for some time and had explored all the familiar corners and holes, he wanted to go out. It had never happened before that Otu had wanted to go out on a cold winter day. But now he stood at the door and miaowed asking to be let out.

"What's the matter with the cat?" wondered the mistress. "Has the food from home upset his stomach? He isn't used to it any more."

However, the master laughed:

"The food didn't do him any harm. But he isn't used to being in a warm room any more. He wants out into the fresh air."

"But he'll freeze there," the mistress said.

"Well, in really cold weather, yes," replied the master. "But such weather as today won't do him any harm. Let him go. He is used to sleeping in hay in the shed. Probably he longs now for such a place, too. We also have hay in the loft and the shed. Let him try it. And when he gets too cold, he should ask to be let in. Nobody will deny him this."

And thus indeed, Otu made himself a bed in the shed and went to sleep there. He wasn't cold in the hay, when his stomach was full.

He was quite different now from what he used to be. And hard times came for the mice and rats in Otu's home, as Otu had got used to eating them in the forest and preferred them now to the snacks the mistress offered him.

And both the mistress and the master were pleased.

Otu had learned a valuable lesson in self-survival. Necessity had taught Otu to be on the alert at all times and the various struggles for his life had made Otu a much stronger and more noble cat.

Jacob Baranski

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