Tales From the Glades of Ballymore (5 page)

“It’s probably a log,” her father said.

Then, the “log” turned and looked at them with, what seemed to be, two large red eyes.  Belva screamed.

Birk yelled, ”What is it Papa?  Let’s go out and see!”

“You will do no such thing!” said their mother.

“Your mother is right.  We’re not going out in this storm,” agreed their father.

They continued to watch from the windows as best they could.  Soon the shape with eyes, sank below the water and disappeared.  The children were scared and fascinated at the same time.

“Whatever it was, it’s gone now,” said their mother.  “Come, let’s sit down by the fire.  It’s nice and warm there.”

As they moved to the hearth, Beatrice went to the kitchen and made some hot chocolate for everyone.

Morris spoke, “It was probably some debris stirred up by the storm.  After storms I have found the strangest things.”

That was not what he really thought.  For several years there have been rumors that there was some strange creature in the pond.  Once or twice a year there was a sighting similar to tonight’s.  However, this was the second sighting this month.  Some began calling it the “Pond Creature” a couple of years ago.  This was the first time that Morris had seen anything.  He looked at Burton and could tell he was thinking the same.

“Morris, I have a question about the storm shutters and how they will fit the kitchen window,” said Burton.

“Yes, of course.”

They got up and walked to the kitchen.  

While they looked at the window, Burton said, “I honestly don’t know what we saw.  I think it would be best if we didn’t go back in the water.  Although it’s a fairly short walk home, the storm is already bad and getting worse.  Could we impose and stay with you tonight?”

 “I agree with you.  I’m not sure what it was either.  Of course, you are more than welcome to stay.  The children can sleep on the floor by the hearth.  You and Beatrice can have the spare room,” replied Morris.

“Thank you very much.  Better safe than sorry,” said Burton.

Morris nodded in agreement.  After a brief time they returned to the parlor.

“Morris has been kind enough to invite us to stay here tonight.  I think that’s a good idea,” announced Burton.  The wind howled down the chimney as if it were agreeing.

The children had also heard the “Pond Creature” rumors and preferred to believe that they had seen it tonight.  They were happy with their father’s decision.  Beatrice was also worrying about the trip home, so she too was pleased.

“We have a busy day planned for tomorrow.  I think we should retire early if you don’t mind,” suggested Burton.

“Of course.  I’ll get the blankets,” responded Morris.

Morris brought three large, soft blankets from the closet, and Beatrice spread them on the floor.  The children were very happy with this arrangement.  It was different and exciting to sleep next to the hearth in a different cottage, almost like camping out.

After saying goodnight, the adults turned down the oil lamps and retired to their bedrooms.  The children curled up in their blankets.  The flickering light from the fire bathed the room in a warm glow. 

Outside, the storm continued to swirl around the little cottage and all the cottages of Ballymore.

Earlier, Branna Bluebird had just finished delivering a message to the chipmunks.  That would be the last delivery of the day because soon it would be too windy to fly.  To return home, she had two choices.  She could fly directly across the pond or follow the shoreline.  She chose the direct route because it was quicker.  As she took off from the chipmunks’ dock, the wind blew a small branch off a nearby tree, and it hit her in midair.  She was knocked back onto the dock and a bit shaken but apparently uninjured.  Her left wing did hurt a little.  She flexed it a few times and then took off again.  Branna was not a bluebird who changed plans because of minor problems.

The flight across the pond usually took only a minute.  However, as soon as she was in the air, the wind buffeted her, and it was difficult to remain stable.  Her left wing immediately began to hurt.  With each flap, the pain became worse, and soon she was losing altitude.  She wasn’t going to make it to the north shore!  For all practical purposes, she couldn’t swim.  She had to land on something.  In order to stay in the air as long as possible, she began a bumpy, circular glide.  Branna searched the choppy water for anything floating as she dropped lower and lower.

Suddenly, she spotted a small board on the water and immediately adjusted her path to land on it.  The wind almost blew her off course in the last second, but she was able to grab an edge and pull herself onto the board.  She dug her tiny claws into it and hung on as it bounced up and down on the water.  The board was well-weathered and appeared to be a piece of someone’s dock.

Branna was not in a good situation.  She couldn’t fly or swim.  She was a small bird on a small bouncing board in the middle of a big pond.  The wind was blowing, and the water was choppy.  She was wet, cold, and tired.  Her wing hurt.  Everything was getting worse. 

As she looked around, she judged that she was about one-quarter mile from the north shore.  The wind was pushing the board in that direction.  Usually, that’s not a long distance, but in this situation it was.  Her family had talked about what to do if you had to make an emergency landing on the water.  Rule #1 was to stay calm, which she tried to do, but it wasn’t easy.  Rule #2 was to land on anything floating, and stay there if you couldn’t fly.  It was likely that your “raft” would be pushed to shore by the wind.  She had done that.  Almost an hour went by, and she was still about one-eighth of a mile from shore.

The situation was already bad enough, but then the board stopped moving.  Apparently, it got hung up.  Maybe there was another piece of the board under the water, and it had caught on something.  The water was shallow there, so it was certainly possible.  She waited ten minutes, but the board remained stationary except for the bouncing.  Darkness was closing in, and it seemed like the wind was stronger.  She had to do something.  She flexed her injured wing.  It still hurt!  After a brief time she decided, hurt or not, that she was going to fly to shore.

She took off.  The wind grabbed her, and pain grabbed her wing.  She used all her strength and willpower to fly towards the dark shoreline.  Each flap hurt.  Five hundred feet!  Two hundred feet!  One hundred feet!  She made a crash-landing on the shore and lay there in the mud.

She was near Mrs. Porcupine’s cottage, but there was no light coming from the windows.  She looked to her right towards her home, which was about one-quarter mile away.  Through the wind blown spray, she thought she saw her family on the dock.

The wind awoke Bartholomew at 7 bongs.  It was gusting through the tree branches.  The time had come to close the storm shutters.  He got up, went to each of his four windows and closed and latched the heavy wooden shutters.  That made the wind much less noticeable.  Flying would be more difficult tonight, but it must be done if at all possible.  As a matter of fact, it would be a good idea to check on things now, while there was still some daylight.

Flying was somewhat demanding in the wind, but he managed.  As usual, he flew counterclockwise.  Everything was uneventful until he was nearly finished.  Then, he saw the Bluebird family on their dock.  They seemed concerned about something, so he landed.  He noticed that Branna was not with them.

“Is something wrong?” he asked.

“Hello, Bartholomew.  Branna has not returned from her last delivery to the chipmunks.  She should have been back over an hour ago.  The wind is too strong for us to fly out over the pond to search,” answered Bartley.  

Bartholomew heard the anxiety in his voice.  The rest of the family huddled together on the dock.  They were trying to keep warm as they looked out over the water for Branna.  

“I will begin a search now,” said Bartholomew.  “Everybody, stay here.”

He took off and flew south over the pond.  He saw well in the dark, but there was a lot of water to cover, and Branna was small.  When he got to the south shore, he turned back north and flew in a crisscross pattern as he went.  He was worried.  He feared that he wouldn’t be able to find her.

After laying in the cold mud for a while, Branna picked herself up and began walking towards home.  As she got closer, she saw her father, mother, and sisters on the dock staring out over the pond.  She knew she was safe now and let out a sigh of relief.  

She approached the dock and quietly walked onto it.  She was a pitiful looking bluebird.

“Looking for anyone I know,” she sobbed.

Her family turned around.  Stunned, they rushed to her.  They were now crying, also.  The Bluebird family hugged for a long time, and then she told them what had happened.

Her father said, “We are so proud of you, honey.  You did everything exactly right.”

Bartholomew then landed on the dock.  He had planned on giving them a gloomy report but was surprised and overjoyed to see that Branna had returned safely.

The relieved and happy group went to the bluebirds’ treehouse.  Her mother put a warm towel around Branna and hugged her again.  Her wing was still sore but, other than that, she felt pretty well.  Within a week she would be fine.

They enjoyed a simple dinner of tomato soup and bread.  After dinner Bartholomew wished everyone well, gave Branna a hug and flew the short distance to his home.  This was a situation that could have ended very badly, and he was grateful it hadn’t.  He settled down next to the fire with his sailing ship book, and the storm provided the reading background he appreciated.

As he read the histories of those ships and looked at their pictures, an idea occurred to him.  Would the residents be interested in building a sailing ship for the pond?  The HMS Ballymore, he chuckled to himself. 

It certainly would be a worthwhile community project.  The boat could be used for general sailing and transportation around the pond.  Currently, there was only the raft that the ducks used to transport residents and cargo.  A second watercraft would be very useful.  However, it would take significant effort to build and maintain.  Despite a few misgivings, the more he thought about the idea, the more he liked it.  Would the residents agree?  There was only one way to find out.  Call a meeting and ask them.  He began to think about what type of boat would be most useful and enjoyable for everyone.  Time passed quickly.

Just after midnight, he peeked out the door.  The wind was strong and blustery, and the rain had begun.  It was no longer possible to fly.  The treehouse felt the wind but was secure despite an occasional shudder.  As the storm raged on, he would sleep soundly tonight in his warm, safe home.  The other residents of Ballymore would also, including Branna.

When they awoke in the morning, the storm had ended.  There were debris strewn about, and several old tree limbs had fallen.  Happily, none of the cottages were damaged, and everything would be cleaned up by evening.  All in all, it could have been much worse.  The forecast for the new day was green-green-purple.

Rhonda Rabbit cheerily opened her door and breathed in the fresh, clean morning air.  Nature had given itself a good shower and was ready for spring.  She was also ready for spring as she had cleaned her cottage the previous week.  Rhonda lived with her husband Reginald and children Robbie, Rachel, and Rain, on the south shore of the pond.

Rhonda provided flowers to the residents from her beautiful, large garden.  Typically, the flowers were arranged in bouquets or set in colorful baskets.  Like Dr. Brigit, she had a greenhouse that allowed her to continue some gardening during the cold-weather months.  Her husband was the Ballymore tailor.  He made clothes and other fabric-related items.  Rhonda did some dress making, also.  The children helped with everything.