“So, it is a suspicious, sad situation,” Squigle the squirrel said.
Bumblediah Nimbly lowered his hammer. “If I have told you once, I have told you a hundred times, no one is stealing your nuts.”
Squigle flicked his tail. “How else would they keep spontaneously disappearing?”
Bumblediah held a miniature cradle up to his eye. “Perhaps, just perhaps, you are searching the wrong places.”
Squigle hopped around on the fallen leaves. “Sir, are you saying squirrels lack sense?”
Bumblediah coughed. He was not in the mood for an argument with Squigle. He wanted to complete the cradle for the young fairy couple, Mist and Raindrop. Their baby was coming soon.
Squigle chattered on. “Squirrels are smart, savvy and sane. We certainly would never ‘search the wrong places’. Someone is stealing something.”
“Humph,” Bumblediah said. “You are stealing my time. You need to work harder to find your buried nuts.”
Squigle cocked his head. “Search harder? Say… Supposing you have something in that suggestion…?” Squigle leaped away and raced up a tree. “See you sometime!”
Bumblediah shook his head.
“Your mission, should you choose to accept it, is to search out the nuts and stop whoever has been stealing them.” Squigle paced on the thick oak branch, waving his tail like a flag.
A crowd of squirrels gathered before him, twitching and tittering in the ancient oak tree. It was the biggest in the forest and bulged out around the trunk with a cactus growing from a crook on its trunk.
Sometimes the squirrel raised a paw. “How are we supposed to ascertain the suspects?”
“Are you sure this is a safe suggestion?” Samantha the squirrel asked.
Silas, a young squirrel, chased his tail. “Are we starting a society?”
Squigle churred impatiently. “I was getting to those subjects. I know this idea is surprising, but I saw it as suitable for our situation. Samantha, squirrels have stayed safe for long enough! It is time to strike back and do more than simply survive!”
“So, it is a society of sorts?” asked Silas.
“We should assume that title,” Squigle said, “but we must sleuth out the suspects secretly.”
“So, we are a stealthy society?” Squeak the squirrel asked.
“Certainly,” Squigle said. “A Secret Society Of Suspicious Squirrels.”
The squirrels cheered.
“What are you doing?” Chamomile fluttered out her front door to find a squirrel eyeing the Bluebonnet fairy cottage.
The squirrel sniffed the chimney. “I am subtly investigating.”
Chamomile hovered over the roof, her blue petal dress blowing in the breeze. “Investigating what?”
The squirrel swayed gently on the branch above the cottage. “I don’t suppose you are storing acorns in there?”
"What does the squirrel want?" Acorn appeared over a nearby crape myrtle tree.
"My name is Silas," the squirrel said. “I am on a significant, secret mission.”
“To find acorns?” Chamomile put her hands on her hips. She disliked the way the squirrel eyed the cottage as if it were a nut he wanted to crack open.
Acorn furrowed his brow. “We've been gathering almonds lately, but not acorns.”
Silas jerked. "Gathering almonds?? Where?”
Acorn eyed the squirrel. “Just in the woods…”
“In the woods… in the woods! I must spring away swiftly!” Silas jumped, landing on the Bluebonnet cottage before scurrying down the tree. The cottage toppled over.
Chamomile and Acorn yelled and dove toward their house.
Bumblediah hummed as he strolled along. Tall brown grass and weeds grew around him. The sky was gray. He bent to place an old shell and piece of moss into his bag.
A rustle in the grass made him turn. The flash of a tail disappeared behind a baby cedar.
“Humph.” Bumblediah kept walking.
As Bumblediah grabbed a pretty pebble, a twig snapped. He spotted a nose and ear peaking out behind a log. “Snooping squirrels,” he muttered.
Bumblediah continued, trying to ignore the crackling in the grass. At last, after a tremendous crash, he could stand it no longer. “What are you doing?”
“Staying out of sight,” said a tail poking out from behind a cactus.
“And why are you doing that?” Bumblediah asked.
“I am a secret spy.” Two ears joined the tail above the cactus, followed by excited eyes.
Bumblediah raised an eyebrow.
The squirrel pattered around the cactus. "You aren’t searching for some pecans, are you?”
A squirrelish voice drifted up the creek bed. “You are supposed to be under severe arrest for stealing."
“I have explained multiple times: we did not dig up these almonds,” Mr. Bluebonnet’s voice replied in an exasperated tone.
The Bluebonnet family appeared flying around the bend with sacks slung over their shoulders. A squirrel scampered after them on the ground.
Bumblediah harrumphed and stalked toward the new squirrel.
The first squirrel followed. “It's Squeak! He has discovered the thieves.”
“What’s going on here?” Bumblediah asked.
Mr. Bluebonnet’s indigo wings beat fast as he hovered. He cast a weary glance at the squirrels. “Squeak believes we stole our almonds.”
Squeak folded his paws. “The evidence suggests it is so.”
“Oh dear.” Bumblediah looked to the sky. “There are plenty of acorns. You can not go around accusing the fairies–”
“I have a suspect! I have a suspect!” Silas barreled into the clearing. He halted. “Oh, you already stopped them.”
Acorn and Chamomile swooped down the hill. “Father! Mother! The house is in trouble!”
“Oh dear,” Bumblediah repeated.
Everyone began talking at once.
They were interrupted by Samantha yelling at the top of her lungs. “Supreme terror! Speed away! Search for safety! It is soon coming!” She landed in front of them, eyes wide and wild.
“What is coming?” Chamomile asked.
Samantha glanced around. “A scary monster.”
Bumblediah folded his arms. “Humph! Did you see one?”
“No,” Samantha said, “but my sister’s second cousin’s second best friend saw one. And she said that he said that she said that she saw a terrifying sight of a monstrous silhouette of something that steals nuts and squashes squirrels.”
The squirrels gasped.
Silas sprang onto an oak. “We must signal Squigle!”
“Certainly!” the squirrel who had followed Bumblediah said.
All the squirrels bounded through the trees, leaving Bumblediah and the fairies to stare after them.
The squirrels gathered again in the old oak.
Squigle paced. “A strange and singular event has occurred. Now we must decide how to subdue this monster.”
“Subdue it?” Samantha clutched her tail in her paws.
“Do you think this is what has been stealing our walnuts?” Sometimes asked.
Squigle rubbed his ears. “I suppose. Perhaps it has been slinking through the shadows all along. But I doubt the Secret Society would have missed it.”
“We would have spotted it!” Squeak said.
“The nut stealer is still at large?” Silas bounced in place.
A gust of wind brought raindrops to dampen the gathering. The sky darkened.
“Supposedly,” Squigle said. “We squirrels must not let it smash us. We will send scouts toward the hills where it was seen. Does anyone have ideas on how to sedate it?”
“Let's scold it and maybe that would scare it away?” Samantha suggested.
Silas grabbed a leaf and waved it. “Let’s throw sticks and stones at it!”
“Could we scratch it?” one brave squirrel asked.
Squigle raised a paw. “I say those are stellar insights, let’s strive for all of them!”
More rain poured down, and the squirrels scattered.
Samatha gathered the mother squirrels to practice scolding.
Silas mustered an army to collect the hardest rocks and knobbiest sticks.
A few squirrels practiced scratching up tree trunks.
But they told no one their battle plan.
“I saw something frightful,” a bluebird twittered. “It had teeth as long as tree branches growing out of its head!”
“I heard it,” a mockingbird said. “It rumbled like a thunderstorm.”
A sparrow ruffled its feathers. “I do believe I never saw anything like it before.”
Silas stuck his nose into the clearing where the birds chatted. “Did you say you spotted the monster?”
The mockingbird flapped his wings. “It could be called a monster of sorts.”
Silas ducked his head. “How far away?”
The bluebird hopped forward. “About a mile but coming this way.”
“I see!” Silas ran through the trees.
“I-I heard there is a mon-monster,” one rabbit whispered to another as they nibbled grass in a meadow. “I-I heard it has got strange powers to dig up burrows.”
The other rabbit hopped in a zigzag pattern. “I heard it can b-blast trees with massive magic sticks.”
“I heard it is a h-hawk, coyote and rattlesnake p-put together.”
“Similar to a snake?” Samantha's head appeared in the long grass.
“That is what I h-heard,” one rabbit said.
“Save us!” Samantha exclaimed.
“I heard a beast is coming that has a tail as long and fierce as a whip, whatever that is,” Mrs. Armadillo said as she snuffled in the damp leaves on the forest floor.
Mr. Armadillo looked from where he was digging. “Indeed, I heard it was as large as a mountain, whatever that is.”
“I heard it breathes fire,” Mrs. Armadillo said.
“Fire?” Sometimes said from up a tree.
Mr. and Mrs. Armadillo nodded their noses. “Indeed.”
Sometimes shuddered and leaped away.
Bumblediah strode down the bank carrying the tiny cradle on his way to deliver it to Raindrop and Mist.
A flock of deer skipped past. “Flee! Flee! Flee! It’s almost here.”
Bumblediah frowned after the deer.
A rabbit streaked by. “R-run!”
Bumblediah’s scowl deepened.
A roadrunner jogged in front of Bumblediah. “Hurry!”
“Humph!” Bumblediah hiked up a gentle slope to where a bush with crimson leaves stood. Mist and Raindrop’s green birdhouse hung in its branches. He was surprised to find Chamomile and Mrs. Bluebonnet flitting in and out.
“Hello Bumblediah,” Chamomile said, her arms full of blankets. “The baby is coming!”
“Coming?” Bumblediah fumbled forward. “Now?”
Mrs. Bluebonnet popped her head out of the door. “Soon.”
A fox sped through the foliage. “You might want to move along. The monster’s just over the ridge.”
“A monster?” Mist appeared in the doorway, his green wings folded.
A loud, growling moan resounded up a ridge of cedars.
“Hmm… a monster?” Bumblediah squinted in the direction of the noise. A nervous feeling bloomed in his chest.
Mist wrung his hands. “We can not let that thing, whatever it is, disturb Raindrop and the baby.”
Bumblediah straightened. “You are right.” He pulled his hatchet from his belt. “We will give it a talking to.”
Chamomile slipped from the cottage to follow.
As they approached, another sound mingled with the moaning.
“Surround it! Stop it! Stone it! Scold it! Slay it! Send it scrambling! Sally forth shining squirrels!”
Bumblediah entered the rocky clearing in the woods and froze. He blinked and rubbed his eyes. The earth trembled as a beast as big as a cedar stomped the ground with cloven hooves. White horns longer than any Bumblediah had ever seen stretched out from either side of its brown head. The beast snorted and bucked. It's eyes rolled.
Squirrels pelted the monstrosity with pebbles and sticks from the surrounding trees. They clacked their teeth, squeaked and scolded. One squirrel hurled itself onto the beast’s back and commenced scratching furiously.
The beast charged.
“Watch out!” Bumblediah dove and landed on a cactus.
The beast halted and turned large, dark eyes on him. Bumblediah struggled to rise from the painful prickliness, but his jacket clung to the spikes. The beast loomed over him like a storm cloud ready to blow him away.
The squirrels hushed. The one on the monster's back went rigid.
Chamomile swooped in front of Bumblediah, brandishing a thorny stick. Mist darted to her side.
The beast tilted its bulky head and said in a deep, slow voice, “Hello… what are you?”
“What are you?" Chamomile's voice trembled.
The beast blinked. “Me? Isn’t it obvious?”
“It is!” Squigle shook a twig from the top of a tree. “You are the scary monster!”
The beast exhaled and a puff of warm air that smelled of grass washed over Bumblediah. “I am not a monster. I am a longhorn, a Texas longhorn. And my name is Burt, Burt O. Range.”
Bumblediah finally managed to pry himself from the clutches of the cactus. He brushed himself off. “Humph, a longhorn? I have never heard of that. What do you intend to do with us?”
“Do with you?” Burt said. “I don't know… I would like to learn what you are.”
Mist landed on Bumblediah’s shoulder. “Chamomile and I are fairies and Bumblediah is Bumblediah Nimbly. Now, if you would kindly refrain from any more stomping I would be most appreciative. My wife is having a baby.” He folded his arms and glared at Burt.
Burt swished his tail. “I don’t usually stomp but then again, I don’t usually get attacked by squirrels. I was just looking for a friend.”
“Lies!” Samantha squeaked. “He is here to squash us and steal our acorns!”
“Acorns? I don’t mind acorns, but I would never steal them,” Burt said.
“Hmm…” Bumblediah narrowed his eyes at Squigle. “Is this all about your missing acorns?”
“We, the Secret Society of Suspicious Squirrels were stopping injustice.” Squigle lifted his nose.
Chamomile zipped up to the squirrels. “But your nuts haven't been stolen! I watched you bury them. Squigle, you buried an acorn by the creek between the boulder and the bush.
Samatha, if you look in front of the cacti by the biggest warren, you will find pecans. Silas, yours are by the weeping willow. Sometimes, and Squeak, I saw you putting walnuts at the foot of our tree.”
Squigle twitched. “Have you been spying on us?”
Chamomile grinned. “Maybe.”
Squigle narrowed his eyes. "You do seem a sly one... But why should we assume your speech is honest so soon?"
Chamomile shrugged. "You can go and look for yourselves."
Squigle thought for a moment. "I suppose we shall. But if you are deceiving the society we shall shun you unceasingly."
The squirrels left.
The longhorn’s ears drooped. “I was looking for any friend really. I am lost and lonely. What is a Bumblediah Nimbly?”
“Mist! Chamomile! The baby is here!” Acorn’s voice floated over the breeze.
Mist shot into the air. “I must return!”
“Can I come to?” Burt asked.
Bumblediah and Mist looked at the longhorn. One swipe of his horns could crush the fairy cottage. But he did look lonely and sad. And despite his prior fierceness, a gentleness shone in his eyes. Bumblediah looked at Mist. Mist looked at Bumblediah.
“Alright,” Mist said, “but you must be careful and quiet.”
“There you are! I–what is that??” Acorn gawked at the longhorn.
Chamomile laughed. “This is Burt O. Range. He is a Texas longhorn. Burt this is Acorn, my brother.”
“Nice to meet you.” Burt tilted his head. “You don’t look much like an acorn.”
Mist rushed inside the cottage.
Bumblediah and Burt stood outside and waited and waited and waited until finally, the door to the birdhouse creaked open, and Mrs. Bluebonnet exited carrying a tiny bundle.
She paused at the sight of Burt but maintained her composure. A train of little aunts and uncles followed her with one brand-new grandfather.
Mrs. Bluebonnet held the baby up for Bumblediah to see. “Her name is Dewdrop.”
The baby fairy was hardly the size of an acorn herself. Her eyes were closed in a soft pink face. Delicate turquoise wings crumpled behind her shoulders. A fuzz of golden hair stuck up from her head.
Burt leaned in, his eyes wider than pecans. His breath stirred Dewdrop's hair.
Dewdrop's eyes opened. She looked at the nose hovering just inches from her head and... smiled.
Burt’s eyes grew even wider. “I think I have found my friend.”
The oohing and awwing over the baby (and the longhorn) was interrupted as a bunch of slightly sorry squirrels drifted into the clearing, their paws and mouths full of nuts.
Squigle scampered forward. “We have come to say we are sorry for the situation. We discovered our sustenance and suppose you were not stealing. We remain suspicious, but shall cease spying on you.”
“Humph! Is that all?” Bumblediah asked.
Chamomile frowned thoughtfully. “The squirrels were brave. We have got to credit them for that at least.”
“I told you I didn’t steal anything,” Burt said.
Squigle sat on his haunches. “Supposing Chamomile share what she sees with the squirrels so that we may once more feast on all of our secluded sustenance?”
“I could help and Acorn’s especially good at remembering too,” Chamomile said.
Mr. Bluebonnet landed in front of Squigle. “They may aid you on one condition, you end this secret society nonsense.”
“But-but.” Squigle’s tail twisted and his front paw kneaded the dirt. “The Secret Society must discuss this first.”
The squirrels disappeared and a squeaking and chattering ensued behind a large cedar. After a few minutes, the squirrels returned.
“We accept your proposal," Squigle said.
All the squirrels nodded.
“Yippie!” Chamomile cried.
“Good riddance,” Bumblediah said.
Samantha picked up a pecan and nibbled. “It was sure amusing to be a spy, but I must say, this is a sweet, satisfying solution indeed.”
The End
(Pictures by Mary, Faith and Julia, my little sisters)