Tales From the Glades of Ballymore (24 page)

As they were talking, Devon and Sedgewick arrived.  Burton told them about the style and size of the cottage that was to be built.  It was pretty routine except for the underwater entrance.

Devon said, “We can be here tomorrow morning at 8 bongs with the raft to get the stones.  It will probably take most of the day to bring them here.  Sam, your help will be important since the creek is running strong.”

“I’ll be ready,” said Sam.

The meeting ended with everyone agreeing that the material gathering should start immediately.

The next morning, the ducks brought the raft.  They had modified one of their harnesses for Sam, and he was eager to try it.  It took a couple of minutes for him to hook up, and some adjustment was needed.  It seemed his beak was even larger than the ducks had guessed.  The ducks and Burton boarded the raft, and Sam easily pulled it into the pond.  That was a rare treat for the ducks as they were normally the chauffeurs.

It was time to head down the creek.  No pulling would be needed, but there would be a lot of steering required.  Sam remained harnessed in front, but all five ducks hooked up to the back of the raft.  Sam pulled it towards the creek.  As they approached, the raft was caught by the current and began to speed up.  The ducks had to paddle backward and Sam backed up against the front of the raft.  They had it under control but just barely.  The raft careened downstream as the water swirled around.

When they reached the location of the stones, Devon yelled, “We’re going to have to beach it on the left shore now!”  The ducks steered the raft in that direction as best they could.  Sam dove under the water to avoid being squashed between the rocks and raft.  With a loud splash, it crashed onto the rocky shoreline.  Nothing and no one was damaged or injured.

Devon said, “Well, it wasn’t an elegant landing, but we made it.”

Now, they had to refloat the raft.  That required a lot of pushing and pulling and yanking and tugging.  Finally, they got it back in the water and anchored.  Then, they began the loading process.  Burton knew what was needed and selected the best stones.  As the raft took on the stones, it lowered in the water.  Eventually, Burton decided that they had enough stones for that trip.  Everyone hooked up to their harness, and they slowly headed up stream.  It only took five minutes to rush downstream but over an hour to return.  It would not have been possible without Sam.  

The first load was finally delivered to the building site.  It would take two more trips to get the needed stones.  By evening they were finally done.  It had been a tiring but successful day.  Morris Muskrat stopped by around 7 bongs and kindly invited them to dinner.

After dinner everyone returned to their homes for a well-earned sleep.  Sam lay down in the nest he had created and looked at the piles of stones, wood, and straw.  Soon, the piles would be transformed into a cottage.  It was something he was having a hard time believing.  After all of these years, it seemed like magic.  He was learning an age-old lesson.  When you help others, you frequently get back more than you give.

Material gathering was the most difficult part of the construction.  Next, the foundation and underwater entrance were dug.  Then, construction proceeded rapidly.  By the second week in October, the cottage was finished.  Bartholomew arranged a dedication ceremony and sent out invitations to everyone.

On October 14th most of Ballymore gathered at the end of the cove, in front of Sam’s beautiful new home.  Morris Muskrat and Birk Beaver had made and delivered furniture.  Everything was cleaned and polished.  The front door and the woodwork had a rich mahogany like glow.  It was very homey.  Sam could have slept in the cottage the night before but decided to wait until the dedication.

Bartholomew stood before the group and began.

“Welcome, everybody.  The main purpose of this get together is to formally welcome Sam Snapping Turtle to the Ballymore community.  Sam, would you please come up.”

Sam had been standing in the back.  He came forward and stood beside Bartholomew.  Everyone applauded, and he was a little embarrassed by the attention.

“As you know, Sam made his presence known to us in a most dramatic way.  He saved Craig and Colin Chipmunk from drowning just last month.”

Everyone applauded again and Sam smiled.

“Today, we dedicate his new cottage, which was just completed yesterday.  We want to thank the many animals who made this possible.  Sam, we have one more surprise for you.  Will the frogs please come forward.”

Farley, Fionna, and Faith came to the front.  They carried three cloth-covered paintings and three tripods.  The tripods were set in a neat row near Sam, and a painting was placed on each one.

“This past June, at the Midsummer’s Eve festival, the frogs did the initial sketches for these three paintings.  We didn’t know Sam then, but he was there, also.  Sam, as a token of our appreciation, we would like to present these paintings to you for your new home.  Would you please do the honor of unveiling them.”

Sam was overcome by all of this.  He wiped his eyes, walked to the painting on the left and pulled off the cloth.  It was a painting of the stern of the HMS Ballymore, the dock, and a number of the residents.

He next unveiled the center painting.  It pictured the center section of the boat with its beautiful, black hull and large, dark red sails.  Above the boat were the bumblebees in formation.  On the dock were many more residents.  The details and colors were amazing.

The final painting was of the bow of the boat.  In front were the remaining residents who had attended the commissioning ceremony.  Standing on the very right was Sam.  The frogs had painted him in even though he was not there on the dock.  

When Sam saw himself in the picture, he broke down completely.  He sobbed and shook and sobbed some more.  Bartholomew walked over to him and put his wing around him.  Everyone clapped and cheered.  Bartholomew finally put his wings up and asked for quiet.

Sam turned around and faced them.  Fionna gave him a handkerchief.  He wiped his eyes and looked at the group again.

He spoke softly and slowly.  “I came to Ballymore hoping to make some new friends and find a nice place to live.  You have overwhelmed me with your kindnesses.  I thank you so very much.  I love you all.”

Everyone cheered again.

“I will never forget this day.”

He looked over at himself in the painting and almost sobbed again.  Everyone surrounded him to wish him well.

After a short while Bartholomew rescued Sam.

“Thank you everyone.  You are all invited inside for some tea and cookies.  Please be patient and take turns.”

Everyone was very impressed by the cottage and the cookies made by Petunia Porcupine.

So Sam got his new cottage and three memorable paintings.  I’m sure you will agree that he received even more than that from his new friends.

CHAPTER EIGHT

The Weasels' Halloween

The week after Sam’s cottage was dedicated, the leaves on the trees approached their peak color.  Nature continued to prepare for winter.  Stoddard noticed the beautiful scene as he returned to Ballymore after another procurement trip.  He recalled his idea about having an aerial view of Ballymore painted.  The painting would make a wonderful Winter Solstice gift for Bartholomew, he thought.  He flew off to talk to the frogs.  He hoped he could talk them into flying on his and Sean’s backs.  They were home when he arrived.  They liked his gift idea but were scared at the thought of leaving the ground.

Stoddard suggested that he could come back with Sean the next day.  They would wear their basket harnesses, and the frogs could try short, low flights.  The frogs finally agreed to that go-slow approach.

The next day, the swans returned with the harness baskets.  Farley and Fionna looked at the small baskets and wondered how safe they were.

Stoddard said, “We’ve never lost anything from the baskets, and we’ve never crashed.  It’s quite safe for you both.  Let’s try a short flight over the pond.”

Farley climbed into Stoddard’s basket and attached his shoulder harness and seat belt.  He felt, surprisingly, secure.  Fionna did the same with Sean’s basket.  The swans took off and slowly rose to an altitude of about fifty feet.  Even from that low height, some of the gorgeous autumn scenery could be seen.  They flew out to the island, circled it and then flew back to the frogs’ dock.  The frogs were impressed and said they had fun.

Problem solved!

Over the next two days, Farley and Fionna flew in the baskets and made numerous sketches until they felt they had gathered enough details to do the painting.  This was another exciting project for them and they thanked the swans for the opportunity.  They said the painting would be finished for Winter Solstice Eve.

As October drew towards its end, the leaves reached their peak color and passed it.  Much to the delight of certain residents, Halloween would soon arrive.  It was the Monday evening before the haunting night.  Wilde and Wilder, our valiant but mischievous weasels, sat at their dining table.  They had just finished a big dinner and were smiling devilishly at each other.  This was their favorite week of the year.  This was the week when they got to play trick or treat on everyone — legally.  When their tummies were pleasantly full, such as now, they did their best scheming.  They had created a long list of potential “victims”, and now were making the final choices.  So far, the frogs and ducks were the winners or losers, depending upon your point of view.

Wilde was more serious about Halloween than Wilder.  He felt that the holiday presented an opportunity to sharpen their planning skills and have fun at the same time.  Wilder just wanted to have fun, and this Halloween would be the best ever.  He just knew it!

After an hour or so, they were satisfied with the trick list and looked forward to the morning with great anticipation.  They would go to bed early as they needed to be up before dawn.  Wilde turned down the oil lamp on the mantle, and each retired to his bedroom.  Wilde lay on his bed in the dark, still thinking about the details of their tricks.  Wilder tossed and turned with nervous energy.  Eventually, they both drifted off.

Two sets of beady eyes and two wet noses just broke the surface of the water in front of the hut.  It was 7 bongs and barely light out.  The only sound was the lapping of water against the nearby dock.  The weasels waited patiently.  Eventually, the door to the hut opened, and Grenby greeted the morning in his red and white striped pajamas with green bathrobe.  He stretched and looked around.  All quiet.  Good, that was how he liked it.  He studied the sky and trees.  It didn’t take long for him to create a forecast.  He predicted that today would be fair, cool, and with light winds.  It would be the same for tomorrow.

He walked to the flagpole and pulled on the rope to lower the flags from yesterday’s forecast.  Two sets of eyes followed his every move.  Next to the pole was a rack of flags that could announce any forecast he developed.  Blue-blue-purple would be the flags for today and blue-blue for tomorrow.  He removed some of yesterday’s flags and replaced them with the blue and purple ones.  Slowly he hoisted the new forecast up the pole.  Done!  He walked back into his hut and closed the door.

In order for the weasels to put their plan in action, they would have to remain unseen.  They were counting on Grenby going to the lower level of his hut.  This was the time of year that he prepared that level for his long nap.