You see Lightfoot has just
grown that set this summer."
"Do you mean those antlers?" asked Danny Meadow Mouse, looking very
much puzzled. "Didn't he have any before? How could things like
those grow, anyway?"
"Don't you know that he loses his horns, I mean antlers, every
year?" demanded Jumper the Hare. "I thought every one knew that.
His old ones fell off late last winter. I know, for I saw him
just afterward, and he looked sort of ashamed. Anyway, he didn't
carry his head as proudly as he does now. He looked a lot like
Mrs. Lightfoot; you know she hasn't any antlers."
"But how could hard, bony things like those grow?" persisted Danny
Meadow Mouse.
"I think I will have to explain," said Old Mother Nature. "They
were not hard and bony when they were growing. Just as soon as
Lightfoot's old antlers dropped off, the new ones started. They
sprouted out of his head just as plants sprout out of the ground,
and they were soft and very tender and filled with blood, just
as all parts of your body are. At first they were just two round
knobs. Then these pushed out and grew and grew. Little knobs
sprang out from them and grew to make the branches you see now.
All the time they were protected by a furry skin which looks a
great deal like what men call velvet. When Lightfoot's antlers
are covered with this, they are said to be in the velvet state.
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