When the hares had romped themselves out, it was the great forest birds’ turn to perform.  Hundreds of wood-grouse in shining dark-brown array, and with bright red eyebrows, flung themselves up into a great oak that stood in the centre of the playground.  The one who sat upon the topmost branch fluffed up his feathers, lowered his wings, and lifted his tail so that the white covert-feathers were seen.  Thereupon he stretched his neck and sent forth a couple of deep notes from his thick throat.  “Tjack, tjack, tjack,” it sounded.  More than this he could not utter.  It only gurgled a few times way down in the throat.  Then he closed his eyes and whispered:  “Sis, sis, sis.  Hear how pretty!  Sis, sis, sis.”  At the same time he fell into such an ecstasy that he no longer knew what was going on around him.

While the first wood grouse was sissing, the three nearest—­under him—­began to sing; and before they had finished their song, the ten who sat lower down joined in; and thus it continued from branch to branch, until the entire hundred grouse sang and gurgled and sissed.  They all fell into the same ecstasy during their song, and this affected the other animals like a contagious transport.  Lately the blood had flowed lightly and agreeably; now it began to grow heavy and hot.  “Yes, this is surely spring,” thought all the animal folk.  “Winter chill has vanished.  The fires of spring burn over the earth.”

When the black grouse saw that the brown grouse were having such success, they could no longer keep quiet.  As there was no tree for them to light on, they rushed down on the playground, where the heather stood so high that only their beautifully turned tail-feathers and their thick bills were visible—­and they began to sing:  “Orr, orr, orr.”

Just as the black grouse began to compete with the brown grouse, something unprecedented happened.  While all the animals thought of nothing but the grouse-game, a fox stole slowly over to the wild geese’s knoll.  He glided very cautiously, and came way up on the knoll before anyone noticed him.  Suddenly a goose caught sight of him; and as she could not believe that a fox had sneaked in among the geese for any good purpose, she began to cry:  “Have a care, wild geese!  Have a care!” The fox struck her across the throat—­mostly, perhaps, because he wanted to make her keep quiet—­but the wild geese had already heard the cry and they all raised themselves in the air.  And when they had flown up, the animals saw Smirre Fox standing on the wild geese’s knoll, with a dead goose in his mouth.

But because he had in this way broken the play-day’s peace, such a punishment was meted out to Smirre Fox that, for the rest of his days, he must regret he had not been able to control his thirst for revenge, but had attempted to approach Akka and her flock in this manner.