Category: Frogs and Snails

The Song

Leave a comment

Once upon a time there was a young pig herder who lived on his father’s farm among the trees of the Wild Forest.  Every day he had to lead the pigs out into the trees to forage for food and had to carefully stand guard with his bow and arrow to keep wolves and bears from coming and carrying them off.  He was a steady, sensible sort of boy.  He always did his job and did it faithfully and never dreamed of leaving his charge.

Then the song came.

One night, just as he was shutting the pigs up in the their pen, a whisper of a melody came snaking out of the trees.  It was so beautiful it brought tears to his eyes.  It was so irresistible that it made his feet tingle.  He knew that no matter what, the most important thing in the world was to follow that song and find out who was singing it.  Without looking back once, he slung his bow over his shoulder and set off among  the trees to follow the song.

He walked all night with only the song for company, and it was the best company he’d ever had.  The longer he listened, the sweeter the song grew, until he began to feel that his heart would burst just from listening.  He barely even noticed when the trees came to an end, and he began walking among field after field of grain.  It wasn’t until the sun came up that he noticed he was approaching a strange village.  He was farther from home than he had ever been in his life.  Normally, he might have felt scared, but with that lovely song in his ears, all he felt was wonder.  The song led him right to the main square of the village, and then it disappeared.

Suddenly the boy felt very, very lost.  He stood, looking around at that strange place and blinking and realizing how tired he was from walking all night.  It was still very early in the morning, and no one in the village was awake yet.  Without the song, it was very, very quiet.  Then he heard a small sound.

It wasn’t the song.  It was the sound of someone crying.  The boy didn’t know what else to do, so he went to see who it was.  In a little ditch that ran between two houses, he found a small girl.  She was holding a tiny ball and crying so hard that she almost wasn’t breathing.

“What’s wrong?” asked the boy as gently as he could.

The little girl was so miserable she didn’t even look afraid of a stranger talking to her.  “I…can’t…find…my…puppy,” she said.  “M-m-my father gave h-h-him to me, and n-n-now he is gone.  I…thing…th-th-the bears got him.  And oh, my f-f-father is going to be so mad.”  The last word got lost in another long wail.

“Shhhh, don’t cry,” said the boy.  “Maybe I can find your puppy.  Where did you last see him?”

The little girl looked up hopefully, and her wails calmed into hiccups.  “He was sleeping with me in my bed last night.  I felt him get up and leave just a while ago.  When I woke up and came to find him, he was gone.”

The boy had the girl show him where her door was, and he looked around for paw prints.  After a bit he found some, and some larger prints, too.  It looked like a bear had been near the houses. He showed the little girl the puppy prints.

“I have to go follow these and see if I can find him,” he said.  “I am only a pig herder and not good at many things, but finding lost animals is something I know how to do.  You stay here and wash away those tears before your mother find you like this.”  He didn’t say anything about the bear tracks because he didn’t want to worry her.

Unslinging his bow, he followed the bear tracks back the way he himself had come, back towards the trees of the forest.  He knew that many times bears will carry their food off to their dens before killing it.  He hoped that was what had happened with the puppy.  The boy had never been to this side of the forest before, but the trees still felt familiar, and it did not take long for him to find the bear’s den.  He saw the dark shape of the bear swaying toward the opening with something in its mouth.  The boy stopped and carefully took aim with his bow.  It was important to get a good shot the first time with a bear.  When he let the arrow fly, it went straight into the back of the bear’s neck.  The bear dropped what was in its mouth and whirled toward the boy, who was already fitting another arrow into the bow.  That one went straight into the bear’s heart.  With a great crash, the bear dropped over.  Cautiously, the boy approached the bear.  It didn’t move.  It was dead.  Just on the other side of the bear, a small pile of fur was trembling.  It was the puppy.  He was alive, though there were several cuts along his little body.  The boy gently picked up the pup and carried him back home.

By the time he arrived at the village, everyone was awake and about their daily work.  The little girl was overjoyed to see her puppy home safe, and her parents were happy, too.  The mother was happy to see her daughter happy, and she offered the boy a huge plate of breakfast.  The father was happy that he had killed the dangerous bear that threatened the village, and he offered the boy a job in his carpenter shop and a bed in the barn.

“I really can’t stay, ” said the boy, thinking first of the song and then, almost ashamedly, of his father and the pigs.  “I must go home.”

“If you wait until tomorrow, there will be a merchant’s wagon to give you a ride,” said the father.  “They are expected this morning and never stay more than one night.  It would be better than walking all day after walking all night.”

The boy thought about it.  He didn’t even know exactly how far he was from home.  The wagon sounded like a good idea.  One day more would not make much difference now.  So he stayed the day.  And the father took him to the shop and showed him how to use the saw and plane and make fine angles and build sturdy things.  There was too much to learn in just one day, but he loved watching as the expert carpenter crafted a table and then a chair and other things that would be beautiful and useful.  It made him realize how little he knew as a pig herder.

That afternoon the merchant arrived, and the next day he was ready to head on into the forest on his usual route.  But the boy did not go with him because the boy was no longer there.

You see, just as the sun had been setting and the family began to wash for supper, the boy heard the melody snaking out from the fields and filling him up and setting his feet to the road.

And the song whispered him on.

To Be Continued

When Mommy Climbed the Volcano

Leave a comment

Yes, this rock that you see right here is called volcanic rock, which means that it used to be lava until it cooled and hardened into rock. I got it from the top of a volcano. That’s right, your very own Mommy once climbed a volcano (it was asleep at the time) and brought back this rock just for you.

Sit up, and I’ll tell you how it (might have) happened.

Once, a long time ago, before any of you were born, your Papi and I took a trip up into the mountains. The little town where we stayed was right next to a lake, with tall, tall mountain peaks on every side. In the town was a little old man, and it was he who told us about the volcano.  He took us right out into the street and pointed up at one of those mountains.  It wasn’t as tall as some, and it’s top was a bit rounded.  He said that was because it was a volcano.  It had been asleep for years, but it was a real live volcano, with lava at its heart and lava rocks on its top.  Some people climb it, he said.

I knew right then and there that I had to be one of those people.

The day we set out to climb the volcano was a lovely sunny day.  The trees at the bottom were beautiful and swishing a bit in a nice breeze.  The trail wound away up the hill just like any other trail.  We started off with high hopes of being at the top in time to eat lunch. We would have made it with time to spare if that darn volcano had just stayed asleep.

We were just getting to the part where the trail started to get steep when I felt a little rumble underneath my feet.  That’s funny, I thought, that almost felt like the mountain was grumbling. I knew it couldn’t be anything too serious, though.  After all, this was a sleeping volcano.  (I thought.)

We kept on hiking, feeling our legs get tired as we went, and every once in a while feeling  just a tiny little trembling of the ground.  It happened often enough that both Papi and I noticed and asked each other what it could be.  We should have been smart and turned around right then, but we wanted to see the top and to be able to say that we stood on top of a real volcano.  We kept climbing.  We were just getting to the part where there were no more trees and only rocks ahead when the ground started shaking for real.  It shook so hard that we both fell over and just sat there, holding onto the bushes that grew by the side of the trail.  When the shaking finally stopped, we looked at each other.  We were both thinking the same thing.  That volcano was not sleeping.

That would have been another good time to head back down the mountain.  But we were SO CLOSE to the top.  We thought we would just run up really quick and look around, and then get back down in plenty of time.  The first part worked perfectly.  We were at the top in five minutes.  The view was spectacular.   We didn’t have time to admire it, though, because right at the moment the mountain gave a tremendous lurch, and ground cracked open right by our feet.  The crack spread quickly and before we knew it, we were separated by a glowing chasm.  I did not at all like being on the opposite side of that opening from Papi, so before I could think I leaped across.  I could feel the heat rising up from the depths as I jumped over.

Papi and I turned to run, but the ground was shaking and the rocks rose up into the air under our feet.  A fountain of lava burst up out of the ground not far from us.  There was no way to get down quickly enough.  Lava was bubbling up out of the crack and already moving toward our high rocky perch.  Only a little way down the mountain, I saw two old twisted trees.  I knew they were our only hope.

Jumping down off the rock, we made a leap across the growing river of lava.  I almost didn’t make it.  As I landed on the other side, I slipped and grabbed hold of some rocks to steady myself.  This piece of rock came off in my hand, and without thinking I stuffed it into my pocket.  Then we dashed for the trees.  We each climbed a tree and prayed that the lava would go around.  We were not so lucky.

The stream of lava came straight for our trees, slow and steady as lava always moves.  We knew it would burn up the trees if it hit them.  Then another great explosion rocked the mountain.  The trees fell with a crash.  We barely managed to avoid being crushed, as we each scrambled to the top of the branches that were now skidding down the mountainside.  Clinging on as tight as we could, we rode those fallen trees all the way down the mountain.  The river of lava was right behind us, but we were moving faster.  When the trees finally crashed to a stop in the foothills, we jumped off and ran as hard as we could.  Rescue vehicles were not far away, including a helicopter which flew us a safe distance away.

Then we stood with the rest of the town and watched the mountain bubble.

The Teeny Tiny Monster

Leave a comment

Once upon a time there was a teeny, tiny monster, so small he would fit in the palm of your hand. His name was Shamus. Shamus was fearsomely terrible and terribly fierce, but no one was even the slightest bit scared of him. Obviously the reason for that was that he was so small. It’s hard to be terrifying when anyone who wants to could just pick you up and set you on a shelf.

Shamus was determined to be scary. He tried jumping out at some kids getting off the school bus and roaring a giant roar, but his loudest roar was only a squeak to them, and they passed him by without even noticing. He tried hiding under the bed and sneaking out at night to scare a little girl, but when it was good and dark, he couldn’t find the leg of the bed, and it was too high for him to jump. Instead, he spent the night on the floor, and the little girl slept soundly.

The other monsters laughed and laughed when they heard that story. “A monster who could be the prize in a cereal box is never going to scare anyone,” they said.

At first, Shamus was very sad, but then he started thinking about what the other monsters had said. And he had a brilliant idea.

The next day, Shamus climbed up into the cupboard and found the most colorful box of cereal. Slipping under the lid, he waited. Pretty soon, a boy came and took the box down and poured out some cereal. Shamus jumped into the bowl. He dodged the stream of milk and floated on a red O, waiting. When the little boy took a bite, Shamus jumped onto the spoon. Right as the boy was about to eat his bite of cereal, Shamus jumped up on his nose, grabbed a bit of hair and poked him in the eye. The boy yelled and dropped the spoon, milk, cereal and all. Then he saw Shamus dancing around on the table. The boy was so shocked that there was something alive in his cereal that he ran screaming for his mother. Shamus finished his dance and ran home to tell the other monsters all about it.

The day after that, Shamus sneaked into a little girl’s lunch bag. He crawled right up between the slices of bread on her ham and cheese sandwich and waited. When it was lunch time, the little girl took out her sandwich and was just about to take a bite when Shamus wiggled out of his hiding spot and began to do his dance along the crust. The little girl saw something hopping around on her sandwich and let out a shriek. Shamus giggled so hard he fell right off the table.

Pretty soon the other monsters started to come along to watch Shamus leap out of coffee cups and chip bags. They couldn’t believe their eyes. Shamus’ sudden appearance in their food never failed to terrify people of all ages.

And that was how Shamus, the tiniest monster ever, became one of the scariest monsters ever, too.

The Polite Pirates of the Puxatana

Leave a comment


Never did a more well-spoken band of pirates sail the seven seas than the Polite Pirates of the Puxatana. Many a prisoner was made to walk the Puxatana’s plank but never without a friendly “Please,” and while the Polite Pirates pillaged and plundered as all good pirates should, they never, ever forgot to say “Thank you” as they sailed away.

It was the Polite Pirates who stole the famed Fraser treasure, which everyone said could not be stolen. The Fraser family kept their gold in an iron chest locked away in the darkest dungeon inside their strong stone fortress. Many armed guards paced the walls of the castle, and no one was brave enough to try to break in. Only the Polite Pirates, who knew that with good manners you can accomplish anything, would make such an attempt.

The first thing they had to do was get past the guards. That was not a problem for the Polite Pirates. The pirate captain marched straight up to the front gate and pretended to be a traveler who was looking for a place to sleep for the night. While he very politely asked for directions, the other pirates sneaked up behind the guards.

“Please do the me the favor of dropping your weapon,” said each pirate to each guard. And each guard did. A simple please can so often get you what you want. Holding a sword to someone’s back also helps.

When all the guards were disarmed and tied up, the pirates took the keys to the great front door from the chief guard and walked quietly inside, not forgetting to wipe their feet carefully in the mat. Without a sound, the Polite Pirates crept down the stairs toward the dungeons. They arrived at the barred doors of the cell that held the treasure, they paused, while the captain and the first mate politely discussed various ways of opening the door.

“I believe that blasting it open with this dynamite will be the best course,” said the Captain.

“If you’ll forgive me, sir,” said the first mate, “I think that will be much too loud. It may bring more guards. I would advise picking the lock.”

“You make a very good point,” said the captain, “but I don’t think you’ve considered how much time that will take. We really don’t have time for picking the lock. Someone could happen by at any moment.”

“I understand your point of view completely, sir,” said the first mate, “but I still must say that we would be better to take the time than to risk the loud noise.”

They probably would have gone on this way for quite a while, each trying very hard not to offend the other, if the cabin boy hadn’t said, “Excuse me, captain,” and then waited patiently for the first mate to finish his sentence. When the captain and first mate acknowledged him, the cabin boy said, “Thank you for listening, sir. I have something here that could probably be of help.” He held up the keys to the dungeon which he had stolen from one of the guards.

“Well done, son!” shouted the captain. “I knew if we discussed this reasonably we could come to some understanding!”

The first mate nodded his agreement. The doors were soon open and the crew carried the iron box out of the castle. It was very hard to get such a heavy box up the stairs. Half way up, the men in front dropped it, and it landed on the first mate’s toes. He let out a yell that would put fear into the heart of any pirate, “AAAARRRRRRGGGGGGHHHHH!”

“We’re so terribly sorry,” said all the other men.

“AAAARRRRGGGGHHHH!” yelled the first mate again. Then he got himself under control and said through gritted teeth, “It’s quite all right. I know you didn’t mean to, but I really think we should open the box here and divide up the treasure for carrying.”

Seeing as how the first mate was badly injured, no one wanted to argue with him about that. Several of the men had brought along heavy hammers for opening the box and now they began to pound away at the lid, each man making a great crash and trying his best to break off the hinges. Of course, they all took turns and waited patiently and passed the hammer back and forth very carefully. Working together so courteously, they naturally had the lid off in no time. Each man filled his pockets with gold from the chest, passing it from one to the other with a whispered, “Thank you!”

By this time, all the hammering and yelling had brought more guards down from the upper parts of the castle. The Polite Pirates were ready to move. They fought bravely up the stairs and out into the courtyard, but before they could get to the outer gate, they found themselves surrounded by guards and backed into a corner. It was a terrible moment for the Polite Pirates. They knew no pirate could ever surrender, so that meant that they were all probably about to die. The captain, who was out in front, could see the shining tips of all those swords that were pointed at them and from somewhere behind those swords, he heard someone give a great sneeze, AAACHOOO!

Without second thought, he pulled out his white handkerchief and held it up. “I believe you are needing this,” he called.

The guards stopped. Could it be that the pirates were surrendering? Yes, he was definitely holding up a white flag. Lowering their swords, the guards walked forward to accept the surrender. But the pirates had never meant to surrender. When they saw the guards lower their swords, the pirates made a mad rush and broke free, running for the gate and down to the harbor with great piratey cries.

The pirate captain was the last to get on board the Puxatana as the Polite Pirates prepared to sail away. He carefully set down the handkerchief, hoping that whoever had sneezed would still find it. The Puxatana was sailing away as the guards finally reached the water’s edge, but they could still hear very clearly echoing back over the water, “God….bless…you!”

Fastest in the West

3 Comments

Who is the fastest in the wild, wild west? The jackrabbit is fast, but he can be outrun by the cougar. The cougar is speedy, but he can be outrun by the wild mustang. Can anyone outrun the wild mustang? That is what all the animals on the prairie have gathered today to find out.

Down in the front the prairie dogs have set up a family picnic. They aren’t a part of this competition, but they aren’t about to miss out on the fun. Off to the side sit the jackrabbits. There was some talk of their chief challenging the mustangs, but now he’s announced that he is to be one of the judges instead. A wise move. No one has better pick up time than the chief jackrabbit, but he just doesn’t have the stamina for this kind of race. Clustered in the middle are the buffalo. They, too, are only observers, since their forte is strength and not speed, but no prairie gathering would be complete without them. Ranged behind the buffalo are the cougars. They were the most recent challengers to be defeated by the wild mustangs, and as such they also have a representative judging today. Perched in the trees by the train tracks are a few buzzards. They eye the prairie dogs with interest, but everyone has agreed to a truce today. The buzzards are here as judges also, their perspective from the sky being essential. A lone turtle wends his way through the crowds, selling cool water for the sunny day, completely uninterested in the competition except as a way to earn some profit.

It’s almost start time and now the mustangs are arriving. Proud and strong, they shake their manes as they gallop to a halt on the open plain before the spectators. With a loud neigh, the herd leader calls the judges forward. While he talks to them, the crowd begins to mutter. Where is the challenger? So far, no opponent has shown up. The prairie dogs crane their necks to see if anyone is coming. Suddenly the youngest prairie dog squeals. The ground is trembling ever so slightly. Soon the rumbling is evident to the whole gathering. In the distance, the shining train appears, rushing toward them, trailing its black smoke. Several of the smaller animals dash for cover. The buzzards lift up into the sky. Only the cougars’ well timed pacing keeps the buffalo from stampeding. The train squeaks and groans to a halt right in their midst. The crowd slowly quiets down.

The lead mustang is announcing that the race will begin in half an hour. The challenger is the smoking black giant before them. A ripple of excitement passes through the watching animals. Never would any of them have thought to pit the mustang against the machine. It is an unspoken rule on the prairie that every animal stays as far from the train and its tracks as possible. Stay out of the way of progress, it is said, and you will live longer. Some animals are calling the lead mustang a fool for breaking this tradition now. Others are fascinated. The cougars look forward to what must be the certain humiliation of the mustangs. The jackrabbits can not imagine a machine mastering the prairie more fully than a living being. The buzzards find the question interesting if irrelevant. Everyone knows flying is the best and fastest was to get somewhere, but the issue of second best is intriguing. A few of the animals place discreet bets on the outcome.

At last it is time to begin. The race is to be a long the one, all the way to Abilene and back again, more than forty miles all told. The judges will wait by the finish line, all except the buzzard who will shadow the racers to insure that there is no cheating. Everyone is excited as the chief jackrabbit counts down to the start.

3…2…1…Go!

With a graceful leap, the mustang is off, moving quickly from trot to full gallop. Very soon he is out of sight. The train begins much more slowly. It chugs to life and the wheels turn sluggishly until it gets its great weight in motion. Chug, chug, chug, faster and faster it moves. Chug, chug, chug, faster and faster. Soon it’s speed is tremendous. Tirelessly it gains on the mustang. Overhead, the buzzard is the only observer now, watching as the train catches up with the galloping mustang and then smoothly moves past. The mustang increases his speed a little, but he cannot catch up with the train.

The train arrives in Abilene a good hour before the mustang, but here is its disadvantage. In order to turn around and go back, the great engine must be moved to a special turntable track and be slowly turned around. This process takes time. The buzzard watches as the train waits on its human inventors to switch it around. In the mean time, the mustang has arrived in Abilene and is immediately turning for home. He barely breaks a stride as his hooves thunder around in a circle. He is half way back to the finish line before the train leaves Abilene. It has a full load of coal now, though, and its speed is unbelievable. Steadily, it closes the gap.

By the time the two contestants are in sight of the waiting spectators, the train has nearly caught up with the mustang. The chug of its engine can be heard as its wheels turn effortlessly. Still just a half length ahead of the train, the mustang increases his speed. Flecks of sweat fly off his whipping mane, and his sides heave with the tremendous effort. The two are flying toward the finish line. All the judges watch with intense concentration. The prairie dogs have dropped their food and are staring with open mouths. The buzzards fly forward for a closer look.

The train and the mustang are neck and neck as they cross the finish line. The train squeals to a halt, sending sparks along the tracks, as the mustang stops by the water trough, breathing hard and trembling with fatigue.

The judges have consulted and now they are coming forward with the results, and the winner is…

The winner is….

What do you think? Who wins the race?

Kakahi

1 Comment

Kakahi the dolphin was not like the other dolphins. He did not enjoy swimming with the crowd, splashing in the waves, and having water fights with the other dolphins. He would much rather be exploring the ocean floor, looking for interesting rocks and shells and making new discoveries. The other dolphins thought Kakahi was quite boring because he didn’t want to play but would go on and on about silly little things he found. Kakahi thought the other dolphins were quite boring because they didn’t know anything about the creatures that lived at the bottom of the ocean but only wanted to do the same silly games day after day. Needless to say, Kakahi spent a lot of time alone.

One day, when Kakahi was swimming along the ocean floor, hunting for rare animal specimens, he saw something glowing red a little ways ahead. Curious as always, he swam forward to investigate. He noticed that the water around him was getting warmer and warmer the closer he got to the glow. It wasn’t until the water was uncomfortably hot that he noticed that the glow was slowly inching toward him. There was only one thing it could be: lava! Kakahi was terrified. He backed away as the lava slowly rose toward him. The water was getting warmer all the time. Suddenly, Kakahi realized something. Escaping lava was probably the beginning of a bigger eruption. If an underwater volcano erupted, all the animals in the area would be in danger. Kakahi had to go warn the other dolphins. They were playing up at the surface and wouldn’t have any idea of their danger until it was too late. Beginning to panic, Kakahi turned and swam upward as fast as he could.

It took him a little while to find the other dolphins. He didn’t know where all their favorite places were to play, since he never played with them. Finally, though, he saw some spraying in the distance and headed toward it. When he reached the other dolphins, he was quite tired, but he tried his best to explain quickly.

“Down, on the ocean floor, lava!” he panted. “There’s lava. It’s rising. We have to get far away. Fast.”

The other dolphins just stared. “Kakahi,” said one. “We don’t care about your ocean floor discoveries. They’re boring.”

“No!,” said Kakahi. “It’s lava. Lava! Like a volcano. We’re in danger.”

The word volcano got their attention. A few of the dolphins began to look nervous, but most of the others didn’t believe him.

“There’s no volcano around here! You probably saw some kind of glowing eel or something and thought it was lava.”

“I know what glowing eels look like!” said Kakahi. “I have eight of them in my collection. This is lava. The water is getting hot.”

They were still unconvinced.

“Come yourselves, then,” said Kakahi. “I’ll show you. But we have to be quick. There may not be much time.”

Some of the dolphins still didn’t want to come and look. They didn’t know Kakahi very well and just thought he was a weirdo doing some weirdo thing again. But most of the dolphins were concerned enough to at least check it out. They followed Kakahi down toward the bottom of the ocean. It didn’t take long before the water was noticeably warmer. The dolphins swam a little faster. Pretty soon they could see the glow of the lava. The whole group stopped and stared for a minute. Then they turned together and began to swim away.

No one laughed at Kakahi any more. They began to ask him questions about how fast he thought it was rising.

“We need to head east,” said one of the older dolphins. “There is a sheltered cove near an island that I know. It’s quite far away. It should be far enough to be safe.”

The dolphins all agreed and began to swim east. They swam very fast. They could all feel the water warming and a tremor beginning far below. The farther they went and the faster they swam, the more Kakahi began to fall behind. He was not used to swimming so quickly. Because he didn’t play games with the other dolphins, he didn’t have as much practice jumping among the waves, and he was often knocked back. He began to get very tired. The other dolphins tried to encourage him, but he was just not as quick and strong as they were.

They were just out of range when they all heard a tremendous explosion behind them. A giant wave welled up and swept across the ocean toward them. The other dolphins knew just what to do and rode to the top of the wave and back down as it rushed past, but Kakahi was so exhausted that he could barely stay afloat. The wave grabbed at him and carried him at top speed toward the island in the distance. He was sure it would slam him onto the beach, but there was nothing he could do. Just when he had about given up hope, he felt something come up underneath him. Several of the strongest dolphins had fought their way over to him and were lifting him up with their own noses. With them to guide him, Kakahi was just barely able to drift sideways and down away from the main force of the wave. The other dolphins joined them, and they all watched as the tremendous tidal wave crashed over the island. For a moment, everything was chaotic and then it was strangely quiet. Without speaking, the dolphins swam into the cove where the water was littered with tree branches but otherwise calm. They had made it. They were safe.

The dolphins stayed a long time living near that island, and things were quite different. Many of the dolphins now took time to go exploring on the ocean floor with Kakahi, learning about the things in their world and keeping watch for dangers. Kakahi, in his turn, often went and played with the other dolphins, practicing to become a strong swimmer and jumper and finding that it was much more fun than he had thought.

Super Duck

Leave a comment

There are plenty of heroes who are smarter, quite a few who are stronger, countless more who are faster, but there are none who are braver than mighty Super Duck. Super Duck has two unique abilities: he can balance anything on his super strong bill and he can unlock any lock with his agile tail feathers. He can also fly, of course, but that is nothing special. All ducks can fly.

Super Duck was a relatively unknown superhero until his famous encounter with the infamous Dr. Barbecue. There had been a rumor going around that Dr. Barbecue, the so-called “scientific chef,” was plotting something big. When animals began to disappear, more than one superhero was on the hunt for Dr. Barbecue. Super Duck was just the first to find him.

One of the kidnapped animals was a good friend of Super Duck, Terrance Turkey. T.T. lived right next door to Super Duck, and he was famous for his broccoli and onion soup. Super Duck had been smelling that soup several times a week for years, and he was sick of it. In the end, though, that distinctive smell is what enabled Super Duck to find Dr. Barbecue’s lair. When T.T. was taken, he was right in the middle of testing his latest batch of soup. A great bowl of the stuff splashed all over him in his struggle. When Super Duck came on the scene later, he saw immediately what had happened. After that, all he had to do was follow that oniony smell all the way to Dr. Barbecue.

As it turned out, however, the soup was all a part of Dr. Barbecue’s evil plan. Super Duck had followed his nose to an old warehouse downtown. He was still sniffing around outside the back door when a cage dropped from above and neatly trapped him inside. Before he could do anything, three huge henchman came out of the door and carried the cage inside. Super Duck could see two other cages, covered in cloth and sitting on a giant table. He wondered who was inside. Before he had a chance to get too curious, though, a small man with a black goatee and a chef’s apron turned around. He was smiling and sharpening a knife.

“Now I have you,” laughed the evil Dr. Barbecue. “You are the final piece I needed for my culinary masterpiece. This will be a dish like no other. I will be called the bravest chef in history,for I will do what no one else has yet dared. You have heard, perhaps, of the famous Turducken?”

Super Duck gasped. Of course he had heard of Turducken, that most evil of culinary wickedness, a turkey stuffed with a duck stuffed with a chicken and slowly roasted. The very name was a horror. Until now it had only been a theory, outlined in nasty cookbooks but never yet actually performed.

Super Duck no longer wondered who occupied the other two cells. He only hoped that the turkey and the chicken were still alive.

Dr. Barbecue ordered his henchmen to leave and lock the door so that no one would learn his secret recipe. He cackled to himself as he lit the enormous oven. Super Duck wasted no time once the villain’s back was turned. With his agile tail feathers, Super Duck quickly picked the lock to his cage. When Dr. Barbecue turned back around, Super Duck was sitting calmly in the cage, looking completely innocent. Dr. Barbecue turned back to the stove to prepare the bread stuffing that would go inside the chicken. Shuddering to himself, Super Duck crept out of his cage and hurried to the next cage. Slipping under the sheet that covered it, he came face to face with Terrance Turkey. T.T. was huddled in a corner trembling, but when he saw Super Duck he let out a little squawk.

“SHHH!” whispered Super Duck. “We must be quick.” In a flash, Super Duck had the lock on T.T.’s cage open. T.T. was used to Super Duck’s skills, so he silently followed him out of the cage. The two tiptoed over to the last cage. Inside sat a plump chicken. She was so relieved to see Super Duck come to save her that she totally lost her head.

“Oooohh! Super Duck!,” she squawked at the top of her voice. “Thank heaven you are here! Did you hear what that horrible man said? Oh please don’t let him make me into a Turducken, oh please!”

Of course, all that squawking immediately brought Dr. Barbecue. Super Duck was hard pressed to get the chicken’s cage unlocked before Dr. Barbecue was trying to grab him. Fortunately, T.T. gave a great gobble and began to run toward the door. That caught Dr. Barbecue’s attention, and he looked away just long enough for Super Duck to free the babbling chicken. He pushed her off the table and jumped after her just in time to avoid Dr. Barbecue’s clutching hands.

Unfortunately, T.T. had just discovered that the door was locked.

“Super Duck, what are we going to do?” yelled T.T. “There’s no other door.”

Super Duck quickly looked around. High on the far wall was a small window. It would be a tight squeeze for T.T., but it was their only hope. “The window!” he yelled, and all three birds made a break for it. Dr. Barbecue was right in their way, a giant net in his hands. Super Duck waited until he was just about within reach of the net and then he flew up into Dr. Barbecue’s face, flapping his wings all around the villain’s head. While Dr. Barbecue yelled and swatted, T.T. and the chicken dashed straight through his legs and toward the window. Super Duck snapped up the net in his bill and wrapped it once or twice around Dr. Barbecue’s head. That should give us just enough time, he thought.

Over at the window, the chicken was wailing that she couldn’t fly and she’d never be able to reach. Super Duck landed next to her. “Quiet!” he said. “I have a plan.”

With his super strong bill, super Duck lifted up the very heavy turkey. T.T. stretched out his neck. It made a perfect bridge to the window sill. The chicken slowly climbed up and out. They could hear her yelling for the police outside. Super Duck could see that Dr. Barbecue was getting free from the net. With a mighty heave, he flipped T.T. into the air. T.T. clambered through the window. He nearly got stuck halfway, but he managed to squeeze himself through just as Super Duck came flying up behind him.

The three birds were free, and already the police were arriving in answer to the chicken’s calls. Super Duck showed them the door, and the police got inside just in time to see Dr. Barbecue attempting his escape through the same window the birds had used. They arrested him immediately, and from that day on, Super Duck was one of the most famous super heroes of all.

Dust Rider

Leave a comment

Teeny, teeny tiny, so tiny that you can’t see them without a microscope, are the dust riders. Soaring effortlessly through the air, perfectly balanced on a mote of dust, a dust rider can be airborne for up to four hours. Braving puffs of wind, dangerous updrafts, and predatory insects of all kinds, the dust riders hunt for food for their families at home. No dust rider would ever go back without his gathering bag full, even though it means that many a dust rider has never returned at all. They are the strongest and most courageous warriors that exist.

Strongest of the strong and bravest of the brave was the dust rider Kandu. Kandu knew how to direct his dust mote straight into the air up to thirty feet high, he carried a food bag twice the size of any other dust rider (and filled it every day), and Kandu was the only dust rider to ever survive an encounter with the dreaded vacuum.

The day Kandu met the vacuum he was flying alone. Several other dust riders had started out with him, but one by one, they had been carried off in different directions by air currents. Kandu was used to traveling by himself because he would often go where no other dust rider could follow. Being the best is lonely, but Kandu loved the feel of the wind rushing past and the delicate balance of the dust beneath his feet. When a sudden downdraft plunged him to the ground, he reveled in the thrill of perfect control as he expertly brought the dust to a soft landing and crouched to wait for the next breeze.

The breeze never came. Instead, there was a loud noise, so loud that Kandu was completely knocked out for a second. By the time he came back to himself, that loudness was all around him, and the strongest wind he had ever felt was sucking him up, up, up into a dark place. The force of the wind was so great that Kandu knew there was no resisting it. Instead, he wisely relaxed and let himself be moved with the dust around him. It was hard to remain calm when he slammed into a wall and was instantly surrounded by so much dust that he could not breath. Kandu reminded himself that he was the master of dust. Dust would not be the death of him.

Pushing with all his might, he climbed through the dust to the top of the pile. More and more dust was being sucked in by the wind, so that Kandu was forced to keep climbing until he thought his strength would give out. Eventually, though, the wind and the noise stopped. No more dust blew toward Kandu. He clambered to the top of the last dust motes and collapsed, trembling with exhaustion. It was very dark.

Once he had recovered his strength, Kandu began to feel quite hopeful. He was a dust rider in a strange place surrounded by dust. All he needed was a little breeze, and he could ride wherever he chose. Kandu waited for a breath of air. None came. In that dark, suffocating place, no wind ever came except the strongest wind of all, and it was always only blowing inward. Kandu waited until he was sure that waiting would do no good. Then he began to feel fear.

No, thought Kandu, I must not fear. I am a dust rider. My whole life the dust has carried me on its back. If I must now carry the dust on my back, that is what I will do. Selecting the strongest mote of dust, Kandu lifted it onto his shoulders. Then he began to feel around for hand and footholds in the soft wall behind him.

Slowly, ever so slowly, Kandu climbed, carrying his dust mote with him. Many times, he feared that he would run out of strength before he reached the top, but he did not. At the top of the wall, Kandu found a long tunnel. He could see nothing, but he could feel a coolness in the tunnel that told him there was fresh air on the other end. Without hesitation, Kandu stepped into the tunnel. Instantly, he began to slide, down, down, down, completely out of control, but still remembering to cling to his dust mote. He could see light quickly approaching and then WHOOSH! he was out in the daylight again and landing on solid ground with less than his usual grace. Kandu was free.

In moments, he could feel a breeze approaching. Then Kandu was in the air again, riding the dust as if the whole adventure with the vacuum had never happened. Truly, he was the greatest dust rider who ever lived.

Yellow

1 Comment

This is a story about a yellow dog.

You wouldn’t have know he was yellow just to look at him.  His fur wasn’t yellow, or even buff or tan or golden or any of the other colors people sometimes call yellow.  His fur was brown and black.  But inside, he was as yellow as he could be.

People (and dogs) who are yellow on the inside have no courage.  When they are faced with things that scare them, they don’t stand up to them.  They turn and run.  In short, they are cowards.

The thing about being yellow on the inside, instead of on the outside, is that no one knows you are yellow just by looking at you.  They may not know even after spending some time with you.  It’s not until something very difficult comes along and they are counting on you to do your part that your yellow insides make themselves known.

That was the case with Howard the dog.  He was an Australian shepherd, fairly big and healthy, with dark shaggy fur.  Nothing about his looks would have given away his yellowness.  The family that took him home as a puppy thought he looked like a trustworthy and dependable dog.  He was, after all, bred to take care of helpless sheep.  For a long time everything went well.  Howard got bigger and stronger and more noble-looking with each passing week.  He ran and played like any puppy, but he never tried to leave the yard or broke any other rules the family had given him.  The family said that he was a very good and responsible dog.  The did not suspect that the real reason Howard never stepped out of bounds was that he was afraid.  He was afraid that bigger dogs might pick on him if he left the yard.  He was afraid that strange people might be mean.  He was afraid of making the family angry and losing his comfortable pillow and special canned dog food.  Still, as long as no one knew this was why Howard was such a model dog, everything was fine.

Inevitably, though, some of the yellow began to poke through.  One time some thieves tried to break into the house.  They busted open a window and crawled through, setting off a loud alarm.  The alarm scared the thieves away, but everyone wondered why they didn’t hear Howard barking.  Then they found him, cowering under the bed int eh back bedroom.  He was shaking and whimpering.  The family laughed it off and said he was just a little puppy.  Then he grew up.  One day when the youngest boy was out giving Howard a walk, a big dog came running toward them, barking.  Instead of defending his young master, Howard turned and ran for home as fast as his little legs could move, pulling his young master behind him.  The family laughed about the story again, but this time they did not say that he was just a puppy, and the little boy, whose arm was very sore from being pulled so hard, refused to take Howard for any more walks.  Not long after that, the neighbor cat came over the fence and chased Howard under the picnic table.  When the family came home, there was the cat, sitting calmly on the table, giving itself a bath, while Howard trembled in fear and shame underneath.  That was when the family knew what Howard really was.  The didn’t call him yellow to his face, but they didn’t have to.  Everyone knew it, Harold most of all.

And so the years went by, and Harold continued to be as yellow and cowardly as could be.  He spent his days sleeping on the couch and starting up in surprise every time the doorbell rang.  The neighbor cat visited more and more often, and it got so that Howard hardly dared go out in his own backyard.  The family laughed at Harold and shook their heads, but they put up with him because they felt sorry for him.  Harold was thoroughly ashamed of himself.  As time went on, he felt more and more ashamed.  He wished he could be a braver dog, but everything was just too scary.

Then one day the family took Harold on a picnic to the park.  He spent the day hiding under the picnic table because there were so many other dogs around.  It wasn’t too bad, actually, laying on the soft grass and being fed scraps of lunch.  After a while the little girl’s teddy bear tumbled down next to him, so he even had a sort of company.  But he could also hear the family making fun of him, and he knew that he was ridiculous.

That night, there was a shriek from the kids’ bedroom.  Harold shot under the bed.  From his hiding place, he could hear the little girl crying that she couldn’t find her teddy bear.  The whole family got in on the search, but of course, no one could find it.  The little girl sobbed.  Harold’s heart sunk.  He knew exactly where the teddy bear was.  He knew the little girl would never find it.  That night he lay on the end of the bed, while the little girl tossed and turned and sniffled in her sleep.  She was used to cuddling her teddy in the night, and she couldn’t sleep well without him.  Harold felt terrible.  All that long, long night he lay and thought miserably about how cowardly he was.  If he were a braver dog, he could go right back to that park and get that teddy bear.  Then he would be a hero.  But Harold knew he could never do anything like that.  It was so dark outside and there were so many dogs and cats and other scary things in the night.  No, he could never ever do it.  Still, the thought wouldn’t go away.  It kept buzzing around his brain like a little mosquito that wouldn’t leave him alone.

The next morning, the little girl was still terribly sad.  She cried and cried and wouldn’t eat her breakfast and made her mother search the whole house again.  She sat at the table and drew pictures of teddy and asked her father to put them up around the neighborhood.  When Harold saw the little picture of the girl hugging her teddy, he knew he just had to do something.  He was horribly, horribly afraid, but he just couldn’t live with himself any more if he didn’t help the little girl.  So that afternoon, when Harold was put out in the yard, he broke his first ever rule.  He dug under the fence and left the yard.  He was trembling violently as soon as he got on the other side, but he thought of the little girl and he forced himself to start off down the street toward the park.

At the corner, he ran into a strange dog who barked at him.  Without thinking, Harold turned around and was halfway home before he could stop himself.  He stood panting for a long, long time on the sidewalk, trying to talk himself into going back toward that dog.  He thought of the little girl tossing and turning all night long, but then he thought of the dog’s big teeth.  It was like he was frozen.  Then he saw the neighbor cat come out of her house.  She came to sit at the end of her driveway and laughed at him.  He knew he had to go on.

This time when Harold got to the corner, he braced himself against the barking and kept on going.  The dog came right to him and started sniffing.  Harold was terrified, but he made himself stay where he was.  Finally, the dog wandered away.  Harold was okay!  Feeling much better about himself, Harold kept 0n toward the park.  It was a long trip, but finally he made it.  Sure enough, there under the picnic table was the teddy bear.  Grabbing it triumphantly in his mouth, Harold turned toward home.

And saw a giant dog approaching.  It was growling, and there was no mistaking it’s intent.  It wanted that teddy bear.  Harold slunk back under the table.  The strange dog paced around the table, growling.  Harold knew that he was going to have to get past it in order to get home.  He didn’t see any way to make it home alive.  Maybe if he just gave the teddy bear to the dog, it would let him go free.  Immediately, he was ashamed of the cowardly thought.  He had come so far.  He couldn’t go back empty-handed now.  That was when he felt a little growl in his own throat.  He was so surprised that he almost dropped the teddy bear.  Instead he tried it again, louder this time.  The other dog backed up a step.  Encouraged, Harold growled louder and stepped out from under the picnic table.  Suddenly he realized that he was just as big as that other dog.  He growled even louder.  The other dog backed away.  Victorious, Harold trotted toward home.  He passed lots of dogs on the way, but he didn’t even look at them.

It was almost night when Harold slipped back under the fence and scratched at the back door.  The family was so happy to see him.  And when the little girl saw what he was holding in his mouth, she burst into tears and hugged him so hard that he thought he would burst.  Harold had never felt so proud in all his life.  He wasn’t a yellow dog any more.

And he never would be again.

In the Belly of the Gator

Leave a comment

Once there was an alligator who would eat anything, and everything he ate made him grow bigger.  He ate birds and fish, lizards and mice, and he grew a bit bigger.  He ate squirrels and raccoons and puppies, and he grew bigger still.  He ate goats and deer and ponies, and he grew quite big indeed.  Before long, he was eating full grown horses and cows and once even a llama that happened by.  By this time he was absolutely enormous.  He was so enormous that when young Sam Sutherford, just ten years old, wandered into the swamp, that giant alligator swallowed him whole.

It is not at all pleasant to be swallowed up by a giant alligator, but it is much better than being chewed up by a giant alligator.  Let me explain.  If a giant alligator takes a bite out of you with his giant teeth, there will be blood and pain, and you will soon die.  But if a giant alligator takes one giant gulp and swallows you whole, then you will be very uncomfortably squeezed going down his giant throat and you will find his giant stomach a very dark, smelly, and oddly rocky place to be, but on the whole it is still much better than being dead.

When young Sam found himself swallowed by the giant alligator, he was of course terrified.  He thought that he would soon be dead.  But after a while, he realized that nothing was happening to him so he perked up a bit and looked around.  There wasn’t too much room in that stomach, but Sam did notice several smallish rocks sitting around.  He thought that was extremely odd, but he chose one as a seat and sat down to figure out what to do next.  At first, he tried to beat on the walls of the stomach with his fists, but that did nothing.  Then he tried throwing the rocks at the walls, hoping to break through.  That didn’t do much, either, though it did make the alligator rumble with anger.  Shortly after that, a few more rocks came hurtling into the stomach, having been swallowed by the alligator.  Sam ducked out of the way just in time.  That was when he remembered that alligators swallow rocks to help digest their food.  The giant alligator must have thought that banging he felt was just an upset stomach.  Sam sat down to think some more.

In the end, he realized there wasn’t much more he could do.  He decided to wait and hope that someday, someone would come alligator hunting and rescue him.  And that is what he did.  He passed the time by stacking the rocks into castles and cities, he slept curled up in a circle of stones, and when he was very hungry, he built a little fire and roasted a bit of whatever animal the alligator had swallowed that day.  The fires always caused the alligator to swallow more rocks, but in no time at all, Sam was very good at dodging out of the way of incoming stones. It wasn’t exactly a comfortable life, but Sam found that he could get by.

Outside of the stomach, things were not going well at all.  The giant alligator had a constant stomach ache, and that made him very, very grouchy.  He was sure that what he needed was more food to grow bigger, and since no animal was stupid enough to wander into his swamp any more, he decided to venture out and visit some nearby farms.  He poached sheep and cows and the occasional horse.  He knocked down rock walls to get to the animals and burst through fences for no reason at all other than his extreme grouchiness.  He began to get a reputation.  Once people knew that there was a humongous (he’d grown too big by now to just be giant) mean alligator on the loose, they were determined to get rid of him at all cost.  Soon some of the local farmers formed a hunting party, and they called in the famous alligator hunter, Joe-Joe Geronimo.

Joe-Joe walked around with two giant machetes tucked into his belt, and he was known to have killed more than fifty alligators.  He got the men together and outlined a plan.  The next day, they all headed into the swamp to track down the humongous alligator.  He wasn’t hard to find.  Humongous alligators can’t exactly hide.  When they found him, though, their troubles began.  Several of the men shot at him with their guns, but the alligator was so big and tough by now that the bullets just skipped off his hide.  That was why Joe-Joe had set up his plan.  While the men with guns distracted the alligator, Joe-Joe and a few helpers circled around and prepared their ropes.  Then in the blink of an eye, they leapt out from behind the trees and tied the alligator up.  It took all those men pulling on the ropes to hold that humongous alligator still for even a moment.  But a moment was all that Joe-Joe needed.  He jumped onto the alligator’s humongous head, whipped out his machetes, and plunged them right into the alligators neck.  The alligator was instantly dead, and all the men cheered.

Then they heard a funny noise coming from inside the alligator.  They raised their guns again.  Cautiously, Joe-Joe approached the alligator and cut open it’s belly.  Out climbed a boy, all in rags and sticking terribly like the inside of an alligator.  The men could not believe their eyes.  It was young Sam Sutherford, and he was still alive.  No one who saw it could believe it, so you can imagine how everyone felt who didn’t see it. There was quite a bit of doubting going on back in the city when the men went home.

To this day, no one is quite sure if that story is a legend or the truth, but I can tell you two things.  Joe-Joe Geronimo has a humongous stuffed alligator at his hunting lodge, the biggest trophy he’s ever captured.  And young Sam Sutherford grew up to be an archeologist, camping for weeks on end in the arctic tundra or the deepest desert.  They say he can survive anywhere for as long as he needs to.