Bobby the Blue Frog was very different from all the other frogs because he was a blue frog, and the other frogs in the Pond were all green.  Oh, Bobby had seen frogs that weren’t green before, but never a blue one.  Some frogs were brown, or even black, but never blue!  So naturally, all the other frogs in Tadschool teased him.  They made fun of him almost every day at recess time.  Pretty soon, Bobby decided that something had to change!  He had to prove to the other frogs that he was just as good as they were!  So he challenged the green frogs to a jumping contest.  All frogs are good jumpers, but some can jump even farther than normal frogs, and Bobby was hoping that this was his day.  If only he could jump farther than the other frogs, then they would see that he was just like them, and they would be his friends.

When recess time came, all the frogs lined up on a line.  Then Sally, a very pretty lime-green frog from the north end of the lake, said “On your mark, get set, JUMP!”  Bobby closed his eyes, crouched down, tensed his muscles, and then sprang forward with all his might.  When he opened his eyes his heart fell.  He was not the best jumper.  In fact, he was at the very back.  He was the worst jumper of all.

So Bobby decided to practice.  He practiced and practiced all day long.  While most of the other frogs were relaxing in the nice, cool water of the pond, Bobby was on the ground, jumping and jumping and jumping.

The other frogs thought it was so funny, that they sent one of the meaner frogs up on the land to give Bobby another challenge.  His name was Hank the Bullyfrog, and he wasn’t nice to Bobby at all.

“Bobby, how about we have a fly-eating contest?!”

Bobby gulped in fear.  If he said no, Hank would just laugh and call him a coward.  But if he said yes, and lost again, he didn’t think he could stand it!  Still, he thought, he had to try.  Maybe, just maybe, he could win the fly-eating contest, and then everyone would like him!

So he agreed.  They went to the south of the lake, where the flies liked to live.  Sally said “go” and off they went, chasing and eating as many flies as the could.  The flies went wild, flying every which way, over and under and around.  Bobby was having a hard time seeing them because they flew so fast.  Still, he was able to catch three flies before Sally said stop.  When he looked over at Hank, though, he knew he had lost.  Everyone was surrounding Hank and congratulating him on his spectacular win.  Bobby slipped into the water and began swimming away before anyone could see him leaving.

Suddenly, Norman, a large brown and green frog who lived on the east side of the lake called out, “Hey, Bobby’s getting away!  Everyone after him!”

Bobby knew he was in trouble now.  They were going to try catching him in the water, and if they did, he was sure they would tease him and push him and even dunk his head in the water.  So he swam away as fast as he could.  He heard the splishes and splashes of other frogs jumping in the water, and he knew they were all fast swimmers, but Bobby also loved swimming, and thought that maybe, just maybe, he could swim even faster.

The other frogs were getting close, though.  He could see them, just out of the corner of his eye.  So he swam even harder.  Then, he spotted the reeds.  The reeds were very tall plants that grew out of the pond and made a forest.  So he swam into the reeds and ducked and dived in and around the stalks as fast as he could.  Even though some of the other frogs were faster swimmers, no one could keep up with Bobby through the reeds.  He was just too fast!  He cornered so fast around the reeds, and the other frogs just weren’t as nimble.  All behind him, Bobby could hear the cries of anger and frustration as the other frogs crashed into the stalks or just couldn’t keep up.  Finally, he was free of the stalks, on the far side of the pond, where his parents told him he should never go.  But if he went back into the reeds, he was afraid the other frogs might get him.  So he tried to relax in the clear blue water.  Maybe if he waited long enough, they would all leave the reeds, go back to their homes, and he could swim home safely, without being bothered.

A loud noise behind Bobby startled him and he looked around to see what had made it.  What he saw frightened him more than anything he had ever seen before.  Two humans stood above him, looking down into the pond.  He froze in terror.  Then he heard other noises, coming from the reeds.  The other frogs had made it through, and had just spotted Bobby.

“There he is!” shouted Hank the Bullyfrog.  “Get him”

Bobby tried to shout a warning, but the humans were too fast.  As soon as all the frogs were swimming after Bobby, they started scooping into the water with his big net.  Every time they scooped down, they caught two or three frogs in his net.  Bobby swam frantically to help his classmates, and although he was scared of being caught as well, he forged ahead anyway.  But the large humans never tried to scoop Bobby into their nets because they never even saw Bobby the blue frog.  Bobby realized that in the blue water, the humans could only see the green frogs!

The humans turned to leave and one said to the other, “Joe, we’re gonna eat good tonight!”

Bobby knew he had to act fast if he was going to save his classmates.  He swam back through the reeds, even faster than he had the first time, and told all the adult frogs what had happened, and then he told them his plan.  Then he went off and found the snakes, the mosquitoes, the lizards, the owls, the deer, and any other animal who would listen, and told them his plan to free the green frogs.

As soon as the sun set, all the animals circled around the human’s campsite.  They were nervous, because humans are the scariest creatures of all, but they knew that they had to free those frogs.  They crept forward in the darkness of the night without making a sound.  It was Bobby’s turn to begin the plan and even though he was very afraid, he hopped right into the middle of the campsite, where both the humans could see him.

“Joe, looks like one of them frogs got loose!  Let’s get him!”

Bobby hopped away as fast as he could, and the humans ran after him.  Then, suddenly, all the forest animals ran into the campsite as loudly as they could.  The raccoons found the human’s food and tore into the bags, the foxes stole the human’s nets, and a big black bear poured water onto the fire.  The humans shrieked in terror, because humans can’t see very well in the dark.  They ran around and around in circles, bumping into trees and each other, until finally they found the trail and ran away from the pond as quickly as they could.

The big bear came over to a large black pot of water near the firepit and looked inside where all the green frogs were crying to be freed.  He put his big nose on the side of the pot and pushed it over.  All the green frogs jumped away as quickly as they could and found their parents, who were very happy to have them back, safe and sound.

Hank the Bullyfrog looked at his dad and said, “How did you know we were here?  How did you save us?”

His dad said, loud enough for everyone to hear, “Bobby the Blue Frog told us what happened.  It was Bobby’s idea to save you from the humans.  Bobby is a hero!”

Everyone cheered.  Hank the Bullyfrog came over and gave Bobby a high-five and said, “I’m sorry for treating you so badly, Bobby.  You’re a great frog.”  Even Sally came over and gave Bobby a kiss on the cheek.  Bobby blushed, and learned for the first time, that even blue frogs can turn red.  From then on, everyone was happy, and Bobby had more than enough friends.

The End.

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“After two years of rejections, I didn’t know what else to do, so I did nothing,” says Maria. “I left the book sitting on my computer and started a freelance writing business. Then, about six months later, my dad handed me a book on self-publishing, along with a little plan he’d written for what I needed to do to publish on my own. He told me he loved my book and that I couldn’t let it go, so he was going to help me publish it myself. It nearly made me cry.”

Inspired by her father’s faith in her work, Maria went after her goals with renewed energy and found independent publishing to be the solution she was looking for. “I went to Amazon to self-publish, because people told me how easy it was to work with, and they were absolutely right,” Maria said. “My goal was to prove the publishers who had turned me down wrong. On the marketing side, I knew that reviews from Amazon customers could help my book through word of mouth. And it worked!” Soon after self-publishing, Maria had racked up more than 100 positive Amazon customer reviews.

That’s when Amazon took notice of this promising new talent in the women’s fiction genre and offered Maria the book deal she’d always wanted, complete with editing, publicity, and distribution. “It took years of hard work and rejection, but I finally got the call I’d always dreamed of,” said Maria, “and it came from Amazon. They’ve been there for me every step of the way and believed in me and my work from the start.” One year after its publication, Perfect on Paper climbed to No. 2 on the Kindle bestseller list.

Maria is now living her dream of writing full-time, with two sequels already written and another on the way. She travels the country year-round, speaking to groups and conducting webinars and workshops to help other authors create their own literary paths and achieve independent success.

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“After two years of rejections, I didn’t know what else to do, so I did nothing,” says Maria. “I left the book sitting on my computer and started a freelance writing business. Then, about six months later, my dad handed me a book on self-publishing, along with a little plan he’d written for what I needed to do to publish on my own. He told me he loved my book and that I couldn’t let it go, so he was going to help me publish it myself. It nearly made me cry.”

Inspired by her father’s faith in her work, Maria went after her goals with renewed energy and found independent publishing to be the solution she was looking for. “I went to Amazon to self-publish, because people told me how easy it was to work with, and they were absolutely right,” Maria said. “My goal was to prove the publishers who had turned me down wrong. On the marketing side, I knew that reviews from Amazon customers could help my book through word of mouth. And it worked!” Soon after self-publishing, Maria had racked up more than 100 positive Amazon customer reviews.

That’s when Amazon took notice of this promising new talent in the women’s fiction genre and offered Maria the book deal she’d always wanted, complete with editing, publicity, and distribution. “It took years of hard work and rejection, but I finally got the call I’d always dreamed of,” said Maria, “and it came from Amazon. They’ve been there for me every step of the way and believed in me and my work from the start.” One year after its publication, Perfect on Paper climbed to No. 2 on the Kindle bestseller list.

Maria is now living her dream of writing full-time, with two sequels already written and another on the way. She travels the country year-round, speaking to groups and conducting webinars and workshops to help other authors create their own literary paths and achieve independent success.

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“After two years of rejections, I didn’t know what else to do, so I did nothing,” says Maria. “I left the book sitting on my computer and started a freelance writing business. Then, about six months later, my dad handed me a book on self-publishing, along with a little plan he’d written for what I needed to do to publish on my own. He told me he loved my book and that I couldn’t let it go, so he was going to help me publish it myself. It nearly made me cry.”

Inspired by her father’s faith in her work, Maria went after her goals with renewed energy and found independent publishing to be the solution she was looking for. “I went to Amazon to self-publish, because people told me how easy it was to work with, and they were absolutely right,” Maria said. “My goal was to prove the publishers who had turned me down wrong. On the marketing side, I knew that reviews from Amazon customers could help my book through word of mouth. And it worked!” Soon after self-publishing, Maria had racked up more than 100 positive Amazon customer reviews.

That’s when Amazon took notice of this promising new talent in the women’s fiction genre and offered Maria the book deal she’d always wanted, complete with editing, publicity, and distribution. “It took years of hard work and rejection, but I finally got the call I’d always dreamed of,” said Maria, “and it came from Amazon. They’ve been there for me every step of the way and believed in me and my work from the start.” One year after its publication, Perfect on Paper climbed to No. 2 on the Kindle bestseller list.

Maria is now living her dream of writing full-time, with two sequels already written and another on the way. She travels the country year-round, speaking to groups and conducting webinars and workshops to help other authors create their own literary paths and achieve independent success.

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Snakes have been around since the beginning of time.  There’s now approximately 3100 different species and they can be found in all parts of the world except the Arctic regions.

Snakes come in a wide range of sizes and colours.   Some live in trees, some on land and others in the sea.  However, they all have one thing in common – people either love em’ or hate em’.  Whether you’re a fan of this slinky fellow or not, they are still quite interesting – some more than others.

Check out the snake that resembles a dragon, one that is so small it can fit on a US quarter, and the sea snake with skin like an elephant.  But beware!  You might just change your mind about how you view them.

Revolting Reptiles or Super Snakes?  You decide…

No Fire from this Dragon!

There’s no fire, but a bite from the feathered tree viper could lead to death!

With bristle-like scales this snake stands out from the rest.  It’s found deep in the rain forests of Central Africa and grows up to 75cm (29.5 inches) long.  The fangs on the atheris hispida are on its upper jaw and are retractable like all vipers.

Would you call this a Revolting Reptile or a Super Snake?

Who Ordered the Spaghetti…Snake?

The world’s smallest snake was discovered in 2008 under a rock on the Caribbean island of Barbados.  This little guy measures only 4cm (10 inches) in length and is “thin as spaghetti.”

The Barbados thread snake is also blind and feeds off of the larvae of termites and ants.  Unlike other snakes, the female lays only one large egg at a time.

So?  Revolting Reptile or Super Snake?

Pack Your Trunk, Snake!

Unlike normal elephants, the elephant trunk snake is totally aquatic and is completely helpless on land - its scales are large and knobby and prevent the snake from slithering.  It can grow up to 2.5 meters (8 feet) in length and has wrinkled, baggy skin – like an elephant!

It’s found in the sea waters of Indonesia and feeds on fish, catfish and eels.  Since this snake doesn’t have any venom, it hunts it’s prey by constriction – its “knobby” scales help to hold their slippery prey in place.

Do you think the elephant trunk snake is a Revolting Reptile or Super Snake?

If you thought all these snakes were super and you want to learn more about them or other species of snakes, check out the Internet, a zoo or your local library.

Wonder Words

~ retractable – to withdraw

~ constriction – tightness or inward pressure

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Blow a Horn for the Blowfish Fruit

This yellow-orange fruit is in the melon family and is called many names; horned melon, African horned cucumber, jelly melon and the blowfish fruit.  It originated in Africa but can now be found in specialty markets around the world.  It has a center like lime green Jello that is tart in taste and cucumber-like in texture.  Even though the skin may be eaten (and is high in vitamin C and fiber), most people just suck out the pulpy center, and spit out the seeds.

Grab a spoon and find is you’re brave enough to try the horned melon.

A Fire-Breathing Fruit?

Not quite, but it does have green scales.  The dragon fruit is bright pink and has the yummy taste of a pear and crunchy seeds like a kiwi.  It’s high in fiber and vitamin C and easy to eat – just chop it in half and scoop out the white fleshy center.

The dragon fruit blooms on a cactus that grows like a vine and is native to Central and South America.  The flower on which the fruit will eventually grow is only open for one night to be pollinated!

Would you try this pink delight?

The King of All Fruits

It may be the “king” but it’s a big, spiky, STINKY king!

The Durian fruit is very large.  In fact, it can grow from 30 cm (12 inches) long and 15 cm (6 in) in diameter and typically weighs from 1-3 kilograms (2-7 pounds).  It can be round or oval and the skin is green to brown with tough spikes growing from it.  The smell has been described as rotten onions, almonds, turpentine and even old gym socks.  However, if you can get past it’s odour it has an intensely sweet flavor.

The Durian fruit has been around for 600 years and is native to Malaysia and Indonesia.

Are you brave enough for the King of Fruits?

For more information on freaky fruits visit the library, internet or your local market.

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Utatusdae plia conse nobis ea saped unt re, istenis ut pore, sandit qaue ped quiscipidem. Ut que endi cume velest re sequi con resciam ipiti adipid essim verferitiis de nes rectaestiae expeliqui dis vellaut elitatam, optatem andita exeria susa quodit volorerum venimus andebis molorehent, que audae et ut quam, quatquid ex estore volore neculpa quam aut aut et quodici aut most am quia perum aboressit, officia vollore. molorehent, que audae et ut quam, quatquid ex estore. Utatusdae plia conse nobis ea saped unt re, istenis ut pore, sandit qaue ped quiscipidem. Ut que endi cume velest re sequi con resciam ipiti adipid essim volupiet etus a dit, nihiciente deri conserum inisse nis nonem nos alit eatatia tquament quam faccuptat fugiandae adipsum cum quid que voluptatiur, quam, sedicii scientum ium verferitiis de nes rectaestiae expeliqui dis vellaut elitatam, optatem andita exeria susa quodit volorerum venimus andebis molorehent, que audae et ut quam, quatquid ex estore volore neculpa quam aut aut et quodici aut most am quia perum arcienis dit dero omnimolorro tem aboressit, officia vollore cearumque plicab ipsant.

Sandis dion eicia que non ratium eost autem rem lat andiciatem faccabo. Nam volorpo reicab imi, quo eatur?

Piet aliquodignis ut et ea simuscid expla sequaepta de denihicid ut quunt.

Il issequas ea quae. Molut omnis nis cus.

Uda et accumet faccatem ad quis as doluptas mosame earia commolo remporesed modit es reniet omnis enimintur? Pitation ni consequo cores aut landes eum que perionsed maxim et postium volore esci optatior adia sedi non earume vollesequid mo moluptatquia quam ea quiae lam nonsece rectium hillorempor apition resciet venimi, culparchil est harumquos sundis enet est ut ulla quidit laborate eum dolupta dunt voluptas consend ictur, occus venimol uptatur itiam, quos nia idebitatquia pa seceprae cus dolum liquam hitati voloriore plaboreperum repuda volorem non nates dolestibus.

Acepers picitat rerspiendam labo. Et occupta tinctur?

Ga. Event. Ut volupta ditiorunt, unt.

Otatus exeria niam vel il ipsum aut vellam, inis evenihi liciatem est iumqui ut litinite vollant, volenitisti aut aut adicita et que non endantium volupic totate eium remquam fugitatque dolor reruptam fugitis porro et voluptasperi rerspic te pore eum nus, comnimus sequis solorent quiaspe rfere, qui autatem qui quiasseque dolum hilis nim re parchic iamus, sequos dolo totas apici reiur alique verchicid maio cus inveliqui ipsam doluptur aut adi di cusam quatiosae dipiet odicias nis sed explibus volupti alignatem vidi dolor magnatur sum idest quam dolorit dolupta tumetur ibusdandi omnis soloresto et imustotatem dolor autem alibus, sitium es aceatum etur, vitis sumet alita quist, ate et, cuptiae. Iquaestores aliquid ustrum hillorem aut estio. Agnihic iisqui sin es sitatesti volorrum culliquas duci doluptatur asimi, quam ut pellacc uptate nihitaspedit eatam, venditatem nusam fuga. Nam, ant es modit parchit quos delectatem abo. Us is pratem ut eum qui omnime.

ipsum aut vellam, inis evenihi liciatem est iumqui ut litinite vollant, volenitisti aut aut adicita et que non endantium volupic totate eium remquam fugitatque dolor reruptam fugitis porro et voluptasperi rerspic te pore eum nus, comnimus sequis solorent quiaspe rfere, qui autatem qui quiasseque dolum hilis nim re parchic iamus, sequos dolo totas apici reiur alique verchicid maio cus inveliqui ipsam doluptur aut adi di cusam quatiosae dipiet odicias nis sed explibus volupti alignatem vidi dolor magnatur sum idest quam dolorit dolupta tumetur ibusdandi omnis soloresto et imustotatem dolor autem alibus, sitium es aceatum etur, vitis sumet alita quist, ate et, cuptiae.

et accumet faccatem ad quis as doluptas mosame earia commolo remporesed modit es reniet omnis enimintur? Pitation ni consequo cores aut landes eum que perionsed maxim et postium volore esci optatior adia sedi non earume vollesequid mo moluptatquia quam ea quiae lam nonsece rectium hillorempor apition resciet venimi,

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Utatusdae plia conse nobis ea saped unt re, istenis ut pore, sandit qaue ped quiscipidem. Ut que endi cume velest re sequi con resciam ipiti adipid essim verferitiis de nes rectaestiae expeliqui dis vellaut elitatam, optatem andita exeria susa quodit volorerum venimus andebis molorehent, que audae et ut quam, quatquid ex estore volore neculpa quam aut aut et quodici aut most am quia perum aboressit, officia vollore. molorehent, que audae et ut quam, quatquid ex estore. Utatusdae plia conse nobis ea saped unt re, istenis ut pore, sandit qaue ped quiscipidem. Ut que endi cume velest re sequi con resciam ipiti adipid essim volupiet etus a dit, nihiciente deri conserum inisse nis nonem nos alit eatatia tquament quam faccuptat fugiandae adipsum cum quid que voluptatiur, quam, sedicii scientum ium verferitiis de nes rectaestiae expeliqui dis vellaut elitatam, optatem andita exeria susa quodit volorerum venimus andebis molorehent, que audae et ut quam, quatquid ex estore volore neculpa quam aut aut et quodici aut most am quia perum arcienis dit dero omnimolorro tem aboressit, officia vollore cearumque plicab ipsant.

Sandis dion eicia que non ratium eost autem rem lat andiciatem faccabo. Nam volorpo reicab imi, quo eatur?

Piet aliquodignis ut et ea simuscid expla sequaepta de denihicid ut quunt.

Il issequas ea quae. Molut omnis nis cus.

Uda et accumet faccatem ad quis as doluptas mosame earia commolo remporesed modit es reniet omnis enimintur? Pitation ni consequo cores aut landes eum que perionsed maxim et postium volore esci optatior adia sedi non earume vollesequid mo moluptatquia quam ea quiae lam nonsece rectium hillorempor apition resciet venimi, culparchil est harumquos sundis enet est ut ulla quidit laborate eum dolupta dunt voluptas consend ictur, occus venimol uptatur itiam, quos nia idebitatquia pa seceprae cus dolum liquam hitati voloriore plaboreperum repuda volorem non nates dolestibus.

Acepers picitat rerspiendam labo. Et occupta tinctur?

Ga. Event. Ut volupta ditiorunt, unt.

Otatus exeria niam vel il ipsum aut vellam, inis evenihi liciatem est iumqui ut litinite vollant, volenitisti aut aut adicita et que non endantium volupic totate eium remquam fugitatque dolor reruptam fugitis porro et voluptasperi rerspic te pore eum nus, comnimus sequis solorent quiaspe rfere, qui autatem qui quiasseque dolum hilis nim re parchic iamus, sequos dolo totas apici reiur alique verchicid maio cus inveliqui ipsam doluptur aut adi di cusam quatiosae dipiet odicias nis sed explibus volupti alignatem vidi dolor magnatur sum idest quam dolorit dolupta tumetur ibusdandi omnis soloresto et imustotatem dolor autem alibus, sitium es aceatum etur, vitis sumet alita quist, ate et, cuptiae. Iquaestores aliquid ustrum hillorem aut estio. Agnihic iisqui sin es sitatesti volorrum culliquas duci doluptatur asimi, quam ut pellacc uptate nihitaspedit eatam, venditatem nusam fuga. Nam, ant es modit parchit quos delectatem abo. Us is pratem ut eum qui omnime.

ipsum aut vellam, inis evenihi liciatem est iumqui ut litinite vollant, volenitisti aut aut adicita et que non endantium volupic totate eium remquam fugitatque dolor reruptam fugitis porro et voluptasperi rerspic te pore eum nus, comnimus sequis solorent quiaspe rfere, qui autatem qui quiasseque dolum hilis nim re parchic iamus, sequos dolo totas apici reiur alique verchicid maio cus inveliqui ipsam doluptur aut adi di cusam quatiosae dipiet odicias nis sed explibus volupti alignatem vidi dolor magnatur sum idest quam dolorit dolupta tumetur ibusdandi omnis soloresto et imustotatem dolor autem alibus, sitium es aceatum etur, vitis sumet alita quist, ate et, cuptiae.

et accumet faccatem ad quis as doluptas mosame earia commolo remporesed modit es reniet omnis enimintur? Pitation ni consequo cores aut landes eum que perionsed maxim et postium volore esci optatior adia sedi non earume vollesequid mo moluptatquia quam ea quiae lam nonsece rectium hillorempor apition resciet venimi,

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An Octopus in the Desert?

The welwitschia plant isn’t an actual octopus, but it sure looks like one!  This native desert plant can be found in Namibia, sprawled up to 24 feet wide and 6 feet high.  However, it starts out with only a stem and two leaves.  As the welwitchia begins to grow the stem thinkens and the leaves split into straggly strips that look like an octopus.

This plant can live to be 400 to 1200 years old and is thought to be left over from when dinosaurs roamed the earth.

Teeny Tiny Plants!

Did you know there’s a plant so small that 12 of them would fit on the head of a pin?  And 2 of these plants in bloom could fit in this letter “o”?

The Watermeal plant is part of the duckweed family.  They can be found on still ponds and is green or yellow-green in colour.  They don’t have any roots so they tend to float around forming a bed across the top of the water – as the name suggests it looks like floating cornmeal!

However, unlike cormeal this plant is high in protein and could be eaten.  In fact, in Asian people have done just that.

It’s Not Chocolate – It’s  Tree Bark!

Wouldn’t it be cool to see a tree that has bark like melting chocolate?  You could if you found a Wollemia.  This tree was thought to be extinct until one was found in Australia in 1994 (fewer than a hundred are known to still be growing in the wild today).

The Wollemia is considered to be an evergreen and can grow 80-130 feet (25-40 meters) tall.  It is multi-trunked and has been seen with up to 100 different stems coming from the main base.  The leaves are flat and fern-like, spiralling up from the shoot.  If this isn’t peculiar enough for one tree, it’s bark also resembles chocolate or Cocoa Puffs cereal.  But don’t try to eat it!  This is where the resemblance ends!

For more information on these and other peculiar plants, check out the internet, visit a pond or a plant nursery.

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A Tiny Builder – The African Pygmy Mouse

This little guy is only 30 to 80 mm (1.2-3.1 inches) long and weighs 3 to 12 grams – that’s less than an ounce!  They can be found living in the sub-Saharan of Africa and are considered to be one of the smallest rodents in the world.  It has small, rectangular ears and can be grey to brick-red in color with a white underbelly.  These animals are nocturnal, are very social and like to live in large groups.

However, being small doesn’t stop this mouse from doing something amazing - building a pebble-pyramid.  Every evening after the mouse awakens it stacks pebbles in front of it’s den.  Why?  As the night wears on dew collects on the pebbles.  Then before the mouse goes to sleep for the day.  It will later lick the water from the tiny rocks.  This is its main source of water in this ultra-dry region.

Not Your Normal Pea - The New Zealand Pea Crab

This teeny, tiny crab may be the size of a pea, but it’s mighty in the way it survives.  The pea crab is known as a parasitic creature.  It will find a common host like the green-lipped mussel and lodge itself onto its gills.  Once in place it begins to steal a small portion of the food the mussel takes in.

The female pea crab ranges from 9.3 to 20.2 millimetres (0.37 to 0.80 in) wide and has a soft, see-through body.  The male pea crab has a hard, white shell with orange markings and ranges from 3.2 to 11.8 mm (0.13 to 0.46 in) wide.

The males shell needs to be tougher as they move from host to host in order to find a female.  However, female pea crabs may spend their entire life with the same host.

The Honey Possum – It Feeds on Nectar!

We know that certain birds and bees feed on nectar and pollen, but what about a tiny marsupial?

The Honey Possum lives in Australia and is 6.5–9 cm long and weighs only 7-11 grams for males and 8-16 grams for females – about half the size of a common mouse.

The Honey Possum is one of the few mammals that are truly nectarivorous.  Like a hummingbird, the Honey Possum has a super long tongue with a brush-like tip on the end for gathering the pollen and nectar.  The tail of this animal is longer than it’s body and head combined and is used to support the possum.  It’s like having an extra arm!

This little guy is nocturnal and will find an abandoned bird’s nest, a hollow in a tree, a rock cavity or any safe place to sleep away the daylight hours.

So the next time you feel like you’re too small to do something, just remember these tiny creatures.  They truly are nature’s “small but mighty.”

Wonder Words

~  Nocturnal – Sleeps all day and is active at night.

~  Parasitic – a relationship between two different species where one is benefiting (parasite) while the other suffers (host).

~  Nectarivorous – an animal that eats the sugar-rich nectar produced by flowering plants

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It was summer in the land of Denmark, and though for most of the year the country looks flat and ugly, it was beautiful now. The wheat was yellow, the oats were green, the hay was dry and delicious to roll in, and from the old ruined house which nobody lived in, down to the edge of the canal, was a forest of great burdocks, so tall that a whole family of children might have dwelt in them and never have been found out.

It was under these burdocks that a duck had built herself a warm nest, and was not sitting all day on six pretty eggs. Five of them were white, but the sixth, which was larger than the others, was of an ugly grey colour. The duck was always puzzled about that egg, and how it came to be so different from the rest. Other birds might have thought that when the duck went down in the morning and evening to the water to stretch her legs in a good swim, some lazy mother might have been on the watch, and have popped her egg into the nest. But ducks are not clever at all, and are not quick at counting, so this duck did not worry herself about the matter, but just took care that the big egg should be as warm as the rest.

This was the first set of eggs that the duck had ever laid, and, to begin with, she was very pleased and proud, and laughed at the other mothers, who were always neglecting their duties to gossip with each other or to take little extra swims besides the two in the morning and evening that were necessary for health. But at length she grew tired of sitting there all day. ‘Surely eggs take longer hatching than they did,’ she said to herself; and she pined for a little amusement also. Still, she knew that if she left her eggs and the ducklings in them to die none of her friends would ever speak to her again; so there she stayed, only getting off the eggs several times a day to see if the shells were cracking—which may have been the very reason why they did not crack sooner.

She had looked at the eggs at least a hundred and fifty times, when, to her joy, she saw a tiny crack on two of them, and scrambling back to the nest she drew the eggs closer the one to the other, and never moved for the whole of that day. Next morning she was rewarded by noticing cracks in the whole five eggs, and by midday two little yellow heads were poking out from the shells. This encouraged her so much that, after breaking the shells with her bill, so that the little creatures could get free of them, she sat steadily for a whole night upon the nest, and before the sun arose the five white eggs were empty, and ten pairs of eyes were gazing out upon the green world.

Now the duck had been carefully brought up, and did not like dirt, and, besides, broken shells are not at all comfortable things to sit or walk upon; so she pushed the rest out over the side, and felt delighted to have some company to talk to till the big egg hatched. But day after day went on, and the big egg showed no signs of cracking, and the duck grew more and more impatient, and began to wish to consult her husband, who never came.

‘I can’t think what is the matter with it,’ the duck grumbled to her neighbour who had called in to pay her a visit. ‘Why I could have hatched two broods in the time that this one has taken!’

‘Let me look at it,’ said the old neighbour. ‘Ah, I thought so; it is a turkey’s egg. Once, when I was young, they tricked me to sitting on a brood of turkey’s eggs myself, and when they were hatched the creatures were so stupid that nothing would make them learn to swim. I have no patience when I think of it.’

‘Well, I will give it another chance,’ sighed the duck, ‘and if it does not come out of its shell in another twenty-four hours, I will just leave it alone and teach the rest of them to swim properly and to find their own food. I really can’t be expected to do two things at once.’ And with a fluff of her feathers she pushed the egg into the middle of the nest.

All through the next day she sat on, giving up even her morning bath for fear that a blast of cold might strike the big egg. In the evening, when she ventured to peep, she thought she saw a tiny crack in the upper part of the shell. Filled with hope, she went back to her duties, though she could hardly sleep all night for excitement. When she woke with the first streaks of light she felt something stirring under her. Yes, there it was at last; and as she moved, a big awkward bird tumbled head foremost on the ground.

There was no denying it was ugly, even the mother was forced to admit that to herself, though she only said it was ‘large’ and ‘strong.’ ‘You won’t need any teaching when you are once in the water,’ she told him, with a glance of surprise at the dull brown which covered his back, and at his long naked neck. And indeed he did not, though he was not half so pretty to look at as the little yellow balls that followed her.

When they returned they found the old neighbour on the bank waiting for them to take them into the duckyard. ‘No, it is not a young turkey, certainly,’ whispered she in confidence to the mother, ‘for though it is lean and skinny, and has no colour to speak of, yet there is something rather distinguished about it, and it holds its head up well.’

‘It is very kind of you to say so,’ answered the mother, who by this time had some secret doubts of its loveliness. ‘Of course, when you see it by itself it is all right, though it is different, somehow, from the others. But one cannot expect all one’s children to be beautiful!’

By this time they had reached the centre of the yard, where a very old duck was sitting, who was treated with great respect by all the fowls present.

‘You must go up and bow low before her,’ whispered the mother to her children, nodding her head in the direction of the old lady, ‘and keep your legs well apart, as you see me do. No well-bred duckling turns in its toes. It is a sign of common parents.’

The little ducks tried hard to make their small fat bodies copy the movements of their mother, and the old lady was quite pleased with them; but the rest of the ducks looked on discontentedly, and said to each other:

‘Oh, dear me, here are ever so many more! The yard is full already; and did you ever see anything quite as ugly as that great tall creature? He is a disgrace to any brood. I shall go and chase him out!’ So saying she put up her feathers, and running to the big duckling bit his neck.

The duckling gave a loud quack; it was the first time he had felt any pain, and at the sound his mother turned quickly.

‘Leave him alone,’ she said fiercely, ‘or I will send for his father. He was not troubling you.’

‘No; but he is so ugly and awkward no one can put up with him,’ answered the stranger. And though the duckling did not understand the meaning of the words, he felt he was being blamed, and became more uncomfortable still when the old Spanish duck who ruled the fowlyard struck in:

‘It certainly is a great pity he is so different from these beautiful darlings. If he could only be hatched over again!’

The poor little fellow drooped his head, and did not know where to look, but was comforted when his mother answered:

‘He may not be quite as handsome as the others, but he swims better, and is very strong; I am sure he will make his way in the world as well as anybody.’

‘Well, you must feel quite at home here,’ said the old duck waddling off. And so they did, all except the duckling, who was snapped at by everyone when they thought his mother was not looking. Even the turkey-cock, who was so big, never passed him without mocking words, and his brothers and sisters, who would not have noticed any difference unless it had been put into their heads, soon became as rude and unkind as the rest.

At last he could bear it no longer, and one day he fancied he saw signs of his mother turning against him too; so that night, when the ducks and hens were still asleep, he stole away through an open door, and under cover of the burdock leaves scrambled on by the bank of the canal, till he reached a wide grassy moor, full of soft marshy places where the reeds grew. Here he lay down, but he was too tired and too frightened to fall asleep, and with the earliest peep of the sun the reeds began to rustle, and he saw that he had blundered into a colony of wild ducks. But as he could not run away again he stood up and bowed politely.

‘You are ugly,’ said the wild ducks, when they had looked him well over; ‘but, however, it is no business of ours, unless you wish to marry one of our daughters, and that we should not allow.’ And the duckling answered that he had no idea of marrying anybody, and wanted nothing but to be left alone after his long journey.

So for two whole days he lay quietly among the reeds, eating such food as he could find, and drinking the water of the moorland pool, till he felt himself quite strong again. He wished he might stay were he was for ever, he was so comfortable and happy, away from everyone, with nobody to bite him and tell him how ugly he was.

He was thinking these thoughts, when two young ganders caught sight of him as they were having their evening splash among the reeds, looking for their supper.

‘We are getting tired of this moor,’ they said, ‘and to-morrow we think of trying another, where the lakes are larger and the feeding better. Will you come with us?’

‘Is it nicer than this?’ asked the duckling doubtfully. And the words were hardly out of his mouth, when ‘Pif! pah!’ and the two new-comers were stretched dead beside him.

At the sound of the gun the wild ducks in the rushes flew into the air, and for a few minutes the firing continued.

Luckily for himself the duckling could not fly, and he floundered along through the water till he could hide himself amidst some tall ferns which grew in a hollow. But before he got there he met a huge creature on four legs, which he afterwards knew to be a dog, who stood and gazed at him with a long red tongue hanging out of his mouth. The duckling grew cold with terror, and tried to hide his head beneath his little wings; but the dog snuffed at him and passed on, and he was able to reach his place of shelter.

‘I am too ugly even for a dog to eat,’ said he to himself. ‘Well, that is a great mercy.’ And he curled himself up in the soft grass till the shots died away in the distance.

When all had been quiet for a long time, and there were only stars to see him, he crept out and looked about him.

He would never go near a pool again, never, thought he; and seeing that the moor stretched far away in the opposite direction from which he had come, he marched bravely on till he got to a small cottage, which seemed too tumbledown for the stones to hold together many hours longer. Even the door only hung upon one hinge, and as the only light in the room sprang from a tiny fire, the duckling edged himself cautiously in, and lay down under a chair close to the broken door, from which he could get out if necessary. But no one seemed to see him or smell him; so he spend the rest of the night in peace.

Now in the cottage dwelt an old woman, her cat, and a hen; and it was really they, and not she, who were masters of the house. The old woman, who passed all her days in spinning yarn, which she sold at the nearest town, loved both the cat and the hen as her own children, and never contradicted them in any way; so it was their grace, and not hers, that the duckling would have to gain.

It was only next morning, when it grew light, that they noticed their visitor, who stood trembling before them, with his eye on the door ready to escape at any moment. They did not, however, appear very fierce, and the duckling became less afraid as they approached him.

‘Can you lay eggs?’ asked the hen. And the duckling answered meekly:

‘No; I don’t know how.’ Upon which the hen turned her back, and the cat came forward.

‘Can you ruffle your fur when you are angry, or purr when you are pleased?’ said she. And again the duckling had to admit that he could do nothing but swim, which did not seem of much use to anybody.

So the cat and the hen went straight off to the old woman, who was still in bed.

‘Such a useless creature has taken refuge here,’ they said. ‘It calls itself a duckling; but it can neither lay eggs nor purr! What had we better do with it?’

‘Keep it, to be sure!’ replied the old woman briskly. ‘It is all nonsense about it not laying eggs. Anyway, we will let it stay here for a bit, and see what happens.’

So the duckling remained for three weeks, and shared the food of the cat and the hen; but nothing in the way of eggs happened at all. Then the sun came out, and the air grew soft, and the duckling grew tired of being in a hut, and wanted with all his might to have a swim. And one morning he got so restless that even his friends noticed it.

‘What is the matter?’ asked the hen; and the duckling told her.

‘I am so longing for the water again. You can’t think how delicious it is to put your head under the water and dive straight to the bottom.’

‘I don’t think I should enjoy it,’ replied the hen doubtfully. ‘And I don’t think the cat would like it either.’ And the cat, when asked, agreed there was nothing she would hate so much.

‘I can’t stay here any longer, I Must get to the water,’ repeated the duck. And the cat and the hen, who felt hurt and offended, answered shortly:

‘Very well then, go.’

The duckling would have liked to say good-bye, and thank them for their kindness, as he was polite by nature; but they had both turned their backs on him, so he went out of the rickety door feeling rather sad. But, in spite of himself, he could not help a thrill of joy when he was out in the air and water once more, and cared little for the rude glances of the creatures he met. For a while he was quite happy and content; but soon the winter came on, and snow began to fall, and everything to grow very wet and uncomfortable. And the duckling soon found that it is one thing to enjoy being in the water, and quite another to like being damp on land.

The sun was setting one day, like a great scarlet globe, and the river, to the duckling’s vast bewilderment, was getting hard and slippery, when he heard a sound of whirring wings, and high up in the air a flock of swans were flying. They were as white as snow which had fallen during the night, and their long necks with yellow bills were stretched southwards, for they were going—they did not quite know whither—but to a land where the sun shone all day. Oh, if he only could have gone with them! But that was not possible, of course; and besides, what sort of companion could an ugly thing like him be to those beautiful beings? So he walked sadly down to a sheltered pool and dived to the very bottom, and tried to think it was the greatest happiness he could dream of. But, all the same, he knew it wasn’t!

And every morning it grew colder and colder, and the duckling had hard work to keep himself warm. Indeed, it would be truer to say that he never was warm at all; and at last, after one bitter night, his legs moved so slowly that the ice crept closer and closer, and when the morning light broke he was caught fast, as in a trap; and soon his senses went from him.

A few hours more and the poor duckling’s life had been ended. But, by good fortune, a man was crossing the river on his way to his work, and saw in a moment what had happened. He had on thick wooden shoes, and he went and stamped so hard on the ice that it broke, and then he picked up the duckling and tucked him under his sheepskin coat, where his frozen bones began to thaw a little.

Instead of going on his work, the man turned back and took the bird to his children, who gave him a warm mess to eat and put him in a box by the fire, and when they came back from school he was much more comfortable than he had been since he had left the old woman’s cottage. They were kind little children, and wanted to play with him; but, alas! the poor fellow had never played in his life, and thought they wanted to tease him, and flew straight into the milk-pan, and then into the butter-dish, and from that into the meal-barrel, and at last, terrified at the noise and confusion, right out of the door, and hid himself in the snow amongst the bushes at the back of the house.

He never could tell afterwards exactly how he had spent the rest of the winter. He only knew that he was very miserable and that he never had enough to eat. But by-and-by things grew better. The earth became softer, the sun hotter, the birds sang, and the flowers once more appeared in the grass. When he stood up, he felt different, somehow, from what he had done before he fell asleep among the reeds to which he had wandered after he had escaped from the peasant’s hut. His body seemed larger, and his wings stronger. Something pink looked at him from the side of a hill. He thought he would fly towards it and see what it was.

Oh, how glorious it felt to be rushing through the air, wheeling first one way and then the other! He had never thought that flying could be like that! The duckling was almost sorry when he drew near the pink cloud and found it was made up of apple blossoms growing beside a cottage whose garden ran down to the banks of the canal. He fluttered slowly to the ground and paused for a few minutes under a thicket of syringas, and while he was gazing about him, there walked slowly past a flock of the same beautiful birds he had seen so many months ago. Fascinated, he watched them one by one step into the canal, and float quietly upon the waters as if they were part of them.

‘I will follow them,’ said the duckling to himself; ‘ugly though I am, I would rather be killed by them than suffer all I have suffered from cold and hunger, and from the ducks and fowls who should have treated me kindly.’ And flying quickly down to the water, he swam after them as fast as he could.

It did not take him long to reach them, for they had stopped to rest in a green pool shaded by a tree whose branches swept the water. And directly they saw him coming some of the younger ones swam out to meet him with cries of welcome, which again the duckling hardly understood. He approached them glad, yet trembling, and turning to one of the older birds, who by this time had left the shade of the tree, he said:

‘If I am to die, I would rather you should kill me. I don’t know why I was ever hatched, for I am too ugly to live.’ And as he spoke, he bowed his head and looked down into the water.

Reflected in the still pool he saw many white shapes, with long necks and golden bills, and, without thinking, he looked for the dull grey body and the awkward skinny neck. But no such thing was there. Instead, he beheld beneath him a beautiful white swan!

‘The new one is the best of all,’ said the children when they came down to feed the swans with biscuit and cake before going to bed. ‘His feathers are whiter and his beak more golden than the rest.’ And when he heard that, the duckling thought that it was worth while having undergone all the persecution and loneliness that he had passed through, as otherwise he would never have known what it was to be really happy.

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The first that went off met a Man with a bundle of straw, and said to him, “Please, Man, give me that straw to build me a house”; which the Man did, and the little Pig built a house with it. Presently came along a Wolf, and knocked at the door, and said, “Little Pig, little Pig, let me come in.”

To which the Pig answered, “No, no, by the hair of my chinny chin chin.”

“Then I’ll huff and I’ll puff, and I’ll blow your house in!” said the Wolf. So he huffed, and he puffed, and he blew his house in, and ate up the little Pig.

The second Pig met a Man with a bundle of furze, and said, “Please, Man, give me that furze to build a house”; which the Man did, and the Pig built his house. Then along came the Wolf and said, “Little Pig, little Pig, let me come in.”

“No, no, by the hair of my chinny chin chin.”

“Then I’ll puff and I’ll huff, and I’ll blow your house in!” So he huffed and he puffed, and he puffed and he huffed, and at last he blew the house down, and ate up the second little Pig.

The third little Pig met a Man with a load of bricks, and said, “Please, Man, give me those bricks to build a house with”; so the Man gave him the bricks, and he built his house with them. So the Wolf came, as he did to the other little Pigs, and said, “Little Pig, little Pig, let me come in.”

“No, no, by the hair of my chinny chin chin.” “Then I’ll huff and I’ll puff, and I’ll blow your house in.” Well, he huffed and he puffed, and he huffed and he puffed, and he puffed and he huffed; but he could not get the house down. When he found that he could not, with all his huffing and puffing, blow the house down, he said, “Little Pig, I know where there is a nice field of turnips.”

“Where?” said the little Pig.

“Oh, in Mr. Smith’s home-field; and if you will be ready to-morrow morning, I will call for you, and we will go together and get some for dinner.”

“Very well,” said the little Pig, “I will be ready. What time do you mean to go?”

“Oh, at six o’clock.”

Well, the little Pig got up at five, and got the turnips and was home again before six. When the Wolf came he said, “Little Pig, are you ready?”

“Ready!” said the little Pig, “I have been and come back again, and got a nice pot-full for dinner.”

The Wolf felt very angry at this, but thought that he would be up to the little Pig somehow or other; so he said, “Little Pig, I know where there is a nice apple-tree.” “Where?” said the Pig.

“Down at Merry-garden,” replied the Wolf; “and if you will not deceive me I will come for you, at five o’clock to-morrow, and we will go together and get some apples.”

Well, the little Pig woke at four the next morning, and bustled up, and went off for the apples, hoping to get back before the Wolf came; but he had farther to go, and had to climb the tree, so that just as he was coming down from it, he saw the Wolf coming, which, as you may suppose, frightened him very much. When the Wolf came up he said, “Little Pig, what! are you here before me? Are they nice apples?”

“Yes, very,” said the little Pig; “I will throw you down one.” And he threw it so far that, while the Wolf was gone to pick it up, the little Pig jumped down and ran home.

The next day the Wolf came again, and said to the little Pig, “Little Pig, there is a Fair in the Town this afternoon: will you go?”

“Oh, yes,” said the Pig, I will go; what time shall you be ready?”

“At three,” said the Wolf.

So the little Pig went off before the time, as usual, and got to the Fair, and bought a butter churn, and was on his way home with it when he saw the Wolf coming. Then he could not tell what to do. So he got into the churn to hide, and in doing so turned it round, and it began to roll, and rolled down the hill with the Pig inside it, which frightened the Wolf so much that he ran home without going to the Fair.

He went to the little Pig’s house, and told him how frightened he had been by a great round thing which came down the hill past him.

Then the little Pig said, “Hah! I frightened you, did I? I had been to the Fair and bought a butter churn, and when I saw you I got into it, and rolled down the hill.”

Then the Wolf was very angry indeed, and declared he would eat up the little Pig, and that he would get down the chimney after him.

When the little Pig saw what he was about, he hung on the pot full of water, and made up a blazing fire, and, just as the Wolf was coming down, took off the cover of the pot, and in fell the Wolf. And the little Pig put on the cover again in an instant, boiled him up, and ate him for supper, and lived happy ever after.

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One day, after they had made the porridge for their breakfast, and poured it into their porridge-pots, they walked out into the wood while the porridge was cooling, that they might not burn their mouths by beginning too soon to eat it. And while they were walking, a little Girl called Goldenlocks came to the house. First she looked in at the window, and then she peeped in at the keyhole; and seeing nobody in the house, she turned the handle of the door. The door was not fastened, because the Bears were good Bears, who did nobody any harm, and never suspected that anybody would harm them. So Goldenlocks opened the door, and went in; and well pleased she was when she saw the porridge on the table. If she had been a thoughtful little Girl, she would have waited till the Bears came home, and then, perhaps, they would have asked her to breakfast; for they were good Bears—a little rough or so, as the manner of Bears is, but for all that very good-natured and hospitable. But the porridge looked tempting, and she set about helping herself.

So first she tasted the porridge of the Great, Huge Bear, and that was too hot for her. And then she tasted the porridge of the Middle Bear, and that was too cold for her. And then she went to the porridge of the Little, Small, Wee Bear, and tasted that; and that was neither too hot nor too cold, but just right, and she liked it so well that she ate it all up.

Then Goldenlocks sat down in the chair of the Great, Huge Bear, and that was too hard for her. And then she sat down in the chair of the Middle Bear, and that was too soft for her. And then she sat down in the chair of the Little, Small, Wee Bear, and that was neither too hard nor too soft, but just right. So she seated herself in it, and there she sat till the bottom of the chair came out, and down she came plump upon the ground.

Then Goldenlocks went upstairs into the bedchamber in which the three Bears slept. And first she lay down upon the bed of the Great, Huge Bear, but that was too high at the head for her. And next she lay down upon the bed of the Middle Bear, and that was too high at the foot for her. And then she lay down upon the bed of the Little, Small, Wee Bear; and that was neither too high at the head nor at the foot, but just right. So she covered herself up comfortably, and lay there till she fell fast asleep.

By this time the Three Bears thought their porridge would be cool enough; so they came home to breakfast. Now Goldenlocks had left the spoon of the Great, Huge Bear standing in his porridge.

“SOMEBODY HAS BEEN AT MY PORRIDGE!” said the Great, Huge Bear, in his great, rough, gruff voice. And when the Middle Bear looked at hers, she saw that the spoon was standing in it too.

“SOMEBODY HAS BEEN AT MY PORRIDGE!” said the Middle Bear, in her middle voice. Then the Little, Small, Wee Bear looked at his, and there was the spoon in the porridge-pot, but the porridge was all gone.

“SOMEBODY HAS BEEN AT MY PORRIDGE, AND HAS EATEN IT ALL UP!” said the Little, Small, Wee Bear, in his little, small, wee voice.

Upon this the Three Bears, seeing that someone had entered their house, and eaten up the Little, Small, Wee Bear’s breakfast, began to look about them. Now Goldenlocks had not put the hard cushion straight when she rose from the chair of the Great, Huge Bear.

“SOMEBODY HAS BEEN SITTING IN MY CHAIR!” said the Great, Huge Bear, in his great, rough, gruff voice.

And Goldenlocks had squatted down the soft cushion of the Middle Bear.

“SOMEBODY HAS BEEN SITTING IN MY CHAIR!” said the Middle Bear, in her middle voice.

And you know what Goldenlocks had done to the third chair.

“SOMEBODY HAS BEEN SITTING IN MY CHAIR, AND HAS SAT THE BOTTOM OUT OF IT!” said the Little, Small, Wee Bear, in his little, small, wee voice.

Then the Three Bears thought it necessary that they should make farther search; so they went upstairs into their bedchamber. Now Goldenlocks had pulled the pillow of the Great, Huge Bear out of its place.

“SOMEBODY HAS BEEN LYING IN MY BED!” said the Great, Huge Bear, in his great, rough, gruff voice.

And Goldenlocks had pulled the bolster of the Middle Bear out of its place.

“SOMEBODY HAS BEEN LYING IN MY BED!” said the Middle Bear, in her middle voice.

And when the Little, Small, Wee Bear came to look at his bed, there was the bolster in its place; and the pillow in its place upon the bolster; and upon the pillow was the head of Goldenlocks—which was not in its place, for she had no business there.

“SOMEBODY HAS BEEN LYING IN MY BED—AND HERE SHE IS!” said the Little, Small, Wee Bear, in his little, small, wee voice.

Goldenlocks had heard in her sleep the great, rough, gruff voice of the Great, Huge Bear, and the middle voice of the Middle Bear, but it was only as if she had heard someone speaking in a dream. But when she heard the little, small, wee voice of the Little, Small, Wee Bear, it was so sharp, and so shrill, that it awakened her at once. Up she started; and when she saw the Three Bears on one side of the bed she tumbled herself out at the other, and ran to the window. Now the window was open, because the Bears, like good, tidy Bears, as they were, always opened their bedchamber window when they got up in the morning. Out Goldenlocks jumped, and ran away as fast as she could run—never looking behind her; and what happened to her afterwards I cannot tell. But the Three Bears never saw anything more of her.

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The parents were now very happy, and the christening of the little fellow took place with great ceremony. The Fairy Queen, attended by all her company of elves, was present at the feast. She kissed the little child, and, giving it the name of Tom Thumb, told her fairies to fetch the tailors of her Court, who dressed her little godson according to her orders. His hat was made of a beautiful oak leaf, his shirt of a fine spider’s web, and his hose and doublet were of thistledown, his stockings were made with the rind of a delicate green apple, and the garters were two of the finest little hairs imaginable, plucked from his mother’s eyebrows, while his shoes were made of the skin of a little mouse. When he was thus dressed, the Fairy Queen kissed him once more, and, wishing him all good luck, flew off with the fairies to her Court.

As Tom grew older, he became very amusing and full of tricks, so that his mother was afraid to let him out of her sight. One day, while she was making a batter pudding, Tom stood on the edge of the bowl, with a lighted candle in his hand, so that she might see that the pudding was made properly. Unfortunately, however, when her back was turned, Tom fell into the bowl, and his mother, not missing him, stirred him up in the pudding, tied it in a cloth, and put it into the pot. The batter filled Tom’s mouth, and prevented him from calling out, but he had no sooner felt the hot water, than he kicked and struggled so much that the pudding jumped about in the pot, and his mother, thinking the pudding was bewitched, was nearly frightened out of her wits. Pulling it out of the pot, she ran with it to her door, and gave it to a tinker who was passing. He was very thankful for it, and looked forward to having a better dinner than he had enjoyed for many a long day. But his pleasure did not last long, for, as he was getting over a stile, he happened to sneeze very hard, and Tom, who had been quite quiet inside the pudding for some time, called out at the top of his little voice, “Hallo, Pickens!” This so terrified the tinker that he flung away the pudding, and ran off as fast as he could. The pudding was all broken to pieces by the fall, and Tom crept out, covered with batter, and ran home to his mother, who had been looking everywhere for him, and was delighted to see him again. She gave him a bath in a cup, which soon washed off all the pudding, and he was none the worse for his adventure.

A few days after this, Tom accompanied his mother when she went into the fields to milk the cows, and, fearing he might be blown away by the wind, she tied him to a sow-thistle with a little piece of thread. While she was milking, a cow came by, bit off the thistle, and swallowed up Tom. Poor Tom did not like her big teeth, and called out loudly, “Mother, mother!” “But where are you, Tommy, my dear Tommy?” cried out his mother, wringing her hands. “Here, mother,” he shouted, “inside the red cow’s mouth!” And, saying that, he began to kick and scratch till the poor cow was nearly mad, and at length tumbled him out of her mouth. On seeing this, his mother rushed to him, caught him in her arms, and carried him safely home.

Some days after this, his father took him to the fields a-ploughing, and gave him a whip, made of a barley straw, with which to drive the oxen; but little Tom was soon lost in a furrow. An eagle seeing him, picked him up and flew with him to the top of a hill where stood a giant’s castle. The giant put him at once into his mouth, intending to swallow him up, but Tom made such a great disturbance when he got inside that the monster was soon glad to get rid of him, and threw him far away into the sea. But he was not drowned, for he had scarcely touched the water before he was swallowed by a large fish, which was shortly afterwards captured and brought to King Arthur, as a present, by the fisherman. When the fish was opened, everyone was astonished at finding Tom inside. He was at once carried to the King, who made him his Court dwarf.

The Queen was delighted with the little boy, and made him dance a gaillard on her left hand. He danced so well that King Arthur gave him a ring, which he wore round his waist like a girdle.

Tom soon began to long to see his parents again, and begged the King to allow him to go home for a short time. This was readily permitted, and the King told him he might take with him as much money as he could carry.

And so away goes lusty Tom, With three pence at his back— A heavy burthen which did make His very bones to crack.

He had to rest more than a hundred times by the way, but, after two days and two nights, he reached his father’s house in safety. His mother saw him coming, and ran out to meet him, and there was great rejoicing at his arrival. He spent three happy days at home, and then set out for the Court once more.

Shortly after his return, he one day displeased the King, so, fearing the royal anger, he crept into an empty flower-pot, where he lay for a long time. At last he ventured to peep out, and, seeing a fine large butterfly on the ground close by, he stole out of his hiding-place, jumped on its back, and was carried up into the air. The King and nobles all strove to catch him, but at last poor Tom fell from his seat into a watering-pot, in which he was almost drowned, only luckily the gardener’s child saw him, and pulled him out. The King was so pleased to have him safe once more that he forgot to scold him, and made much of him instead.

Tom afterwards lived many years at Court, one of the best beloved of King Arthur’s knights.

Thus he at tilt and tournament

Was entertainèd so,

That all the rest of Arthur’s knights

Did him much pleasure show.

With good Sir Launcelot du Lake,

Sir Tristram and Sir Guy,

Yet none compared to brave Tom Thumb

In acts of chivalry.

This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org

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There was once a man who had three sons, the youngest of whom was called the Simpleton. He was laughed at and despised and neglected on all occasions. Now it happened one day that the eldest son wanted to go into the forest, to hew wood, and his Mother gave him a beautiful cake and a bottle of wine to take with him, so that he might not suffer from hunger or thirst. When he came to the wood he met a little old grey man, who, bidding him good-day, said: “Give me a small piece of the cake in your wallet, and let me drink a mouthful of your wine; I am so hungry and thirsty.” But the clever son answered: “If I were to give you my cake and wine, I should have none for myself, so be off with you,” and he left the little man standing there, and walked away. Hardly had he begun to hew down a tree, when his axe slipped and cut his arm, so that he had to go home at once and have the wound bound up. This was the work of the little grey man.

Thereupon the second son went into the wood, and the Mother gave him, as she had given to the eldest, a sweet cake and a bottle of wine. The little old man met him also, and begged for a small slice of cake and a drink of wine. But the second son spoke out quite plainly. “What I give to you I lose myself—be off with you,” and he left the little man standing there, and walked on. Punishment was not long in coming to him, for he had given but two strokes at a tree when he cut his leg so badly that he had to be carried home.

Then said the Simpleton: “Father, let me go into the forest and hew wood.” But his Father answered him: “Your brothers have done themselves much harm, so as you understand nothing about wood-cutting you had better not try.” But the Simpleton begged for so long that at last the Father said: “Well, go if you like; experience will soon make you wiser.” To him the Mother gave a cake, but it was made with water and had been baked in the ashes, and with it she gave him a bottle of sour juice. When he came to the wood the little grey man met him also, and greeted him, and said: “Give me a slice of your cake and a drink from your bottle; I am so hungry and thirsty.” The Simpleton replied: “I have only a cake that has been baked in the ashes, and some sour juice, but if that will satisfy you, let us sit down and eat together.” So they sat themselves down, and as the Simpleton held out his food it became a rich cake, and the sour juice became good wine. So they ate and drank together, and when the meal was finished, the little man said: “As you have a good heart and give so willingly a share of your own, I will grant you good luck. Yonder stands an old tree; hew it down, and in its roots you will find something.” Saying this the old man took his departure, and off went the Simpleton and cut down the tree. When it fell, there among its roots sat a goose, with feathers of pure gold. He lifted her out, and carried her with him to an inn where he intended to stay the night.

Now the innkeeper had three daughters, who on seeing the goose were curious to know what wonderful kind of a bird it could be, and longed to have one of its golden feathers. The eldest daughter thought to herself, “Surely a chance will come for me to pull out one of those feathers”; and so when the Simpleton had gone out, she caught the goose by the wing. But there her hand stuck fast! Shortly afterwards the second daughter came, as she too was longing for a golden feather. She had hardly touched her sister, however, when she also stuck fast. And lastly came the third daughter with the same object. At this the others cried out, “Keep off, for goodness’ sake, keep off!” But she, not understanding why they told her to keep away, thought to herself, “If they go to the goose, why should not I?” She sprang forward, but as she touched her sister she too stuck fast, and pull as she might she could not get away; and thus they had all to pass the night beside the goose.

The next morning the Simpleton took the goose under his arm and went on his way, without troubling himself at all about the three girls who were hanging to the bird. There they went, always running behind him, now to the right, now to the left, whichever way he chose to go. In the middle of the fields they met the parson, and when he saw the procession he called out, “Shame on you, you naughty girls, why do you run after a young fellow in this way? Come, leave go!” With this he caught the youngest by the hand, and tried to pull her back, but when he touched her he found he could not get away, and he too must needs run behind. Then the sexton came along, and saw the parson following on the heels of the three girls. This so astonished him that he called out, “Hi! Sir Parson, whither away so fast? Do you forget that today we have a christening?” and ran after him, and caught him by the coat, but he too remained sticking fast.

As the five now ran on, one behind the other, two labourers who were returning from the field with their tools, came along. The parson called out to them and begged that they would set him and the sexton free. No sooner had they touched the sexton, than they too had to hang on, and now there were seven running after the Simpleton and the goose.

In this way they came to a city where a King reigned who had an only daughter, who was so serious that no one could make her laugh. Therefore he had announced that whoever should make her laugh should have her for his wife. When the Simpleton heard this he went with his goose and his train before the Princess, and when she saw the seven people all running behind each other, she began to laugh, and she laughed and laughed till it seemed as though she could never stop. Thereupon the Simpleton demanded her for his wife, but the King was not pleased at the thought of such a son-in-law, and he made all kinds of objections. He told the Simpleton that he must first bring him a man who could drink off a whole cellarful of wine. At once the Simpleton thought of the little grey man, who would be sure to help him, so off he went into the wood, and in the place where he had cut down the tree he saw a man sitting who looked most miserable. The Simpleton asked him what was the cause of his trouble.

“I have such a thirst,” the man answered, “and I cannot quench it. I cannot bear cold water. I have indeed emptied a cask of wine, but what is a drop like that to a thirsty man?”

“In that case I can help you,” said the Simpleton. “Just come with me and you shall be satisfied.”

He led him to the King’s cellar, and the man at once sat down in front of the great cask, and drank and drank till before a day was over he had drunk the whole cellarful of wine. Then the Simpleton demanded his bride again, but the King was angry that a mean fellow everyone called a Simpleton should win his daughter, and he made new conditions. Before giving him his daughter to wife he said that the Simpleton must find a man who would eat a whole mountain of bread. The Simpleton did not stop long to consider, but went off straight to the wood. There in the same place as before sat a man who was buckling a strap tightly around him, and looking very depressed. He said:

“I have eaten a whole ovenful of loaves, but what help is that when a man is as hungry as I am? I feel quite empty, and I must strap myself together if I am not to die of hunger.”

The Simpleton was delighted on hearing this, and said: “Get up at once and come with me. I will give you enough to eat to satisfy your hunger.”

He led him to the King, who meanwhile had ordered all the meal in the Kingdom to be brought together, and an immense mountain of bread baked from it. The man from the wood set to work on it, and in one day the whole mountain had disappeared.

For the third time the Simpleton demanded his bride, but yet again the King tried to put him off, and said that he must bring him a ship that would go both on land and water.

“If you are really able to sail such a ship,” said he, “you shall at once have my daughter for your wife.”

The Simpleton went into the wood, and there sat the little old grey man to whom he had given his cake.

“I have drunk for you, and I have eaten for you,” said the little man, “and I will also give you the ship; all this I do for you because you were kind to me.”

Then he gave the Simpleton a ship that went both on land and water, and when the King saw it he knew he could no longer keep back his daughter. The wedding was celebrated, and after the King’s death, the Simpleton inherited the Kingdom, and lived very happily ever after with his wife.

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Is it the newest in video game fun? Perhaps, a box-office, sci-if thriller? Not quite. Actually, these are weapons used by some very unusual bugs.

READY…AIM…FIRE!

The beetle is cornered by a nasty predator – the frog.

Like machine gun fire, the beetle blasts its clueless victim.

POP POP POP!

CRACK CRACK CRACK!

It’s a direct hit to the face with three shots of toxic vapour.  The frog leaps about in pain. The beetle scurries off to safety.

When it comes to chemical warfare, the Bombardier (bom-buh-deer) Beetle is the master. How? Chemicals are formed in a special organ found in the beetle’s body. This organ has two separate chambers where the toxins are formed. When the beetle feels danger is near, these chemicals mix together in another chamber.  Here it’s heated to the point of boiling. It then explodes out.  This gassy cloud burns and may even leave a blister.

The Bombardier Beetle also has a cannon-like rear end and can aim and fire where ever it wants. It’s found throughout the United States and Southern Canada.

ON GUARD

The insect creeps along a leaf.  Its six legs are slow and silent.  Its wings are tucked in tight.  The tough grey body has a pointed, wheel-like ridge. The victim hasn’t a clue what’s about to happen.

Suddenly, it lunges forward, grasping the prey.  Swiftly it clamps onto the fly and plunges down its sword.

The wheel bug is one of the largest insects in the assassin bug family.  It’s 35 mm in length.  The Wheel Bug also has two long antennas and a thin, narrow head. It’s from this special shaped head that its secret weapon is kept – the beak-sword. This works like a sharp drinking straw.  The wheel bug stabs its victim, filling it up with it a dangerous spit. Within 30 seconds the victims innards have turned to a soupy mush. The assassin bug now slurps away for about 2 hours.

These fascinating bugs can be found in the United States, east of the Rocky Mountains and in South Eastern Canada.

BOMBS AWAY!

Mom senses danger. It’s a villainous wasp hovering just overhead. She quickly gathers her 24 nymphs under her triangular body.

The wasp approaches.

Mom frantically waves her antennae.  Not fazed, the wasp flies even closer. Mom turns her tough, shield-like back and quickly buzzes her wings. The wasp ignores her threat and lands just out of reach. Mom kicks out her middle and back legs in another attempt to scare it off.

It works.  But the determined wasp only takes to the air and darts back and forth.

One of the nymphs edges out to see what all the commotion is about. The wasp　speeds towards it.  Mom’s ready and silently drops her most powerful secret weapon…the stink blob. The wasp catches a whiff of this noxious smell and zips away in the opposite direction. Lunch will have to wait.

Stink bugs range from 6 to 12 mm in size and come in various colors. Most are brown, grey and green. Some, like the harlequin stink bug, are black with bright yellow or orange markings. All stink bugs have a large triangular structure on their backs.  This raised covering points towards their hind end and is called the scutellum. As their name suggests, stink bugs also produce a chemical so noxious and foul that most insects and animals are repelled by it immediately.  However, the stench-gob is used only as a last resort since it saps the bug of most of its energy.

Not all insects are as protective of their young as the ‘parent bug.’ She will still protect her young even when they’re old enough to be on their own. When the young wander off they secrete a scent trail. If in trouble they send out a powerful alarm scent. It’s Mom to the rescue as she follows this scent path right to her nymph.

If you want to learn more about these and other weird insects, visit your local library, the internet or an insect museum.  And remember, the next time you see a bug, don’t bug it…you never know, it might just be loaded.

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Once upon a time, there was an ogre by the name of Norff.  He lived in the forest outside of a small village.  He was a nice ogre, and this is important because most ogres are not very nice.

Norff loved his house and really loved the village.  It was a cute little village; just the kind you’d find in a fairy tale.  When Norff first moved into his house, he thought the people of the village could look past his ogre self and see that he was really nice.  But they couldn’t see nice.  All they saw was ogre.

Norff tried dressing up in a nice suit and tie, so that the people of the village might see that he was really nice.  But they couldn’t see nice.  All they saw was ogre.

The problem only got worse when a cat and then a dog disappeared.  Everyone thought Norff had taken them to eat them, because of course all ogres are mean and love to eat dogs and cats.  The people were very angry and started to make plans to make Norff go away forever.

Norff was ready to give up.  As much as he loved his house, and as much as he really loved the village, he was sad that he had no friends.  Other ogres didn’t want to be around him because he was nice.  And the people of the village only saw that he was an ogre.  Norff had a decision to make.  He went for a walk.

It was a beautiful day in the forest.  The pine trees smelled so good, and the birds and rabbits, who had learned to trust Norff, came near.  Norff felt happy.  Then he heard something!  It sounded like there were animals in trouble!  Norff followed the sounds and at the end of the path found a large cage.  There, trapped in the cage, was a dog and a cat.  Norff was surprised and hurried over to help the dog and cat.

At first, both the dog and the cat were very scared.  They knew that ogres were mean and that they ate dogs and cats.  They thought that Norff would eat them for dinner!  But Norff talked to them and helped them to understand that he was there to help.  They soon knew that he was a nice ogre.

After Norff freed the dog and cat, he took them home.  The dog and cat were very hungry and very thirsty and they didn’t know where their houses were.  Norff fed the dog the yummiest, most delicious bone he had ever eaten!  Norff had amazing bits of the finest food for the cat, too.  Norff also gave both the dog and the cat milk to drink, and water.  He let them both take a bath to get clean, then gave them a very soft place to sleep.  Norff said good night and promised to find the dog and cat’s house first thing in the morning.

Norff got cleaned up and put himself to bed.  He lay awake for most of the night.  He felt good about helping the dog and cat, and he felt how important it was to return the dog and cat to their homes.  But he was a little worried that when it was time to go into the village that there might be problems.  He came up with a plan, then went to sleep.

The animals and Norff woke up as the sun was coming up.  Norff gave the dog and the cat a very healthy, good breakfast and packed a few treats and some water for the walk into town, just in case.

When the three came to the outside of town, Norff leaned down and whispered to the dog and cat that they all needed to be very quiet.  Norff went behind the buildings as quietly as possible until he and the dog and the cat came to the police station.  They all went inside.  The police officer in the station, Officer Dave, saw Norff and jumped up, ready to protect himself!  Immediately, however, Officer Dave saw that Norff had a dog and a cat with him.  This made Officer Dave stop because everyone knows that mean ogres eat dogs and cats, and yet this dog and cat were safe!  Norff explained that he had found the dog and the cat in a cage in the forest, and that he had rescued them.  The dog told Officer Dave that this was true, and that Norff had given him the most delicious bone to eat and sweet milk to drink.  The cat told Officer Dave that this was true, and that Norff had given her a very soft bed to sleep in.  Officer Dave realized that Norff was not a mean ogre!  He was a nice ogre!

Officer Dave decided that he had to make a change.  But how?  How could he help the people of the village understand that this ogre was a nice ogre?  He came up with a plan.

First, he sent Norff home to get as cleaned up as an ogre can get.  Then, he got a comfortable place for the dog and cat.  Finally, he made up fliers for the people of the village and posted them all over town.

The poster said, “Come and meet the nicest, most kind hero our village has ever seen!”  It told everyone to come the next evening to the park.

Officer Dave set up a stage on the large gazebo.  He set up a secret place for the dog and cat.  He set up a secret place for Norff.  He set up a podium and a microphone, along with speakers so everyone could hear his words.  Officer Dave made up a large, very fancy certificate, perfect for a nice, kind hero.  Then he went home.

All the next day, Norff clipped his toenails and fingernails.  He trimmed his ogre hairs.  He scrubbed himself in the bathtub and put on his nice suit and tie.  He polished his shoes and then looked at himself in the mirror.  Norff felt that he looked as cleaned up as an ogre can get.  He was ready.

Soon, there came a knock at his door.  It was Officer Dave, who had a disguise for Norff.  Norff thought this was a good idea.  Norff put on a mask, a wig, and went with Officer Dave to the park.  Norff felt excited and nervous all at the same time.  What if something bad happened?  Norff decided that he could only be himself.  He hoped that the people of the village would like him and want to be his friend.  He hoped that Officer Dave’s plan would work.  He took off the mask and the wig and he waited in his hiding place.

All of the people from the village had come to the park.  The sound was like hundreds of bees buzzing, as the people talked to one another about who the hero could be.  They were very excited, because they liked heroes and wanted to be friends with heroes.

Officer Dave stepped up to the podium right on time.

“Welcome, people of the village!” he said into the microphone.

The people clapped and cheered.  Then they got quiet so they could hear Officer Dave talk.

“You have all come to the park today so that I could show you a hero.  He is very nice.  He is very kind.  He is a true hero and I like him very much.  He saved a cat that was trapped in a cage in the forest.”

Officer Dave brought the cat out from the cat’s hiding place.  “Mrs. Finn, I believe this cat belongs to you?”

Mrs. Finn ran forward with her two children.  They had missed their cat.  “Yes, thank you so much!”

The family was happy to have their cat back, and the cat was happy to be back with her family.  Everyone cheered for joy!

Officer Dave tapped on the microphone, making a sound that caused the people of the village to quiet.

“He also saved a dog that was trapped in a cage in the forest,” said Officer Dave.

Officer Dave brought the dog out from the dog’s hiding place.  “Mr. Guster, I believe this dog belongs to you?”

Mr. Guster was an old man, and he hobbled forward using his cane.  Mr. Guster had missed his dog.  “Yes, thank you so much!”

Mr. Guster was happy to have his dog back, and the dog was happy to be back with his family.  The people of the village clapped even more loudly!  They were happy and they wanted to know who the hero of the village was!  They wanted to be the hero’s friend!

“There is only one thing left to do,” Officer Dave said.  “Would you like to meet our village’s nice, kind hero?”

The people cheered loudly!

“Here he is!  He is my new friend.  He is nice, he is kind, and he is a hero.  I hope you will like him, too!”

Officer Dave looked back at Norff, who slowly walked out into view.  Instantly the whole village was quiet.  There was not a single sound.  But then, Mrs. Finn began to clap.  And then Mrs. Finn’s children began to clap.  And then Mr. Guster began to clap.  Then, the entire village began to clap!  They were no longer scared of Norff!  They liked Norff!  He was a nice, kind hero, and they wanted to be his friend!

That evening, Norff went home.  He took off his fine suit and put on his pajamas.  He flossed and brushed his teeth with care and thought about the day.  It was the happiest day in his whole life!  He had new friends, and he could stay in the home that he loved, and he could stay in the village that he loved.

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One day there was a beautiful white horse. She lived in the snowy mountains far away. She was very happy, except that she didn’t want to live alone. So she decided to go on a journey to find the one horse that would be her best friend!

She traveled very far and came to a hot and dry land. It was quite different from her home in the snow. Soon she saw a horse that was also very different from her. He was as black as the night. The two horses became best friends and also fell in love.

One day while they were eating some grass, a lion jumped out from the bushes with a roar! Both horses were so frightened that their hair stood up straight! And, when they turned to run away, they ran straight into each other! The lion was very surprised to see the two horses all tangled up. Their legs, necks and tails were twisted together so that it was hard to tell which horse was which! The lion laughed and laughed so hard, rolling on the ground, that he realized he wasn’t hungry anymore and left the zebras, wiping the tears from his eyes as he went.

Finally the two horses got untangled. But, when they looked at each other they were both very surprised. There wasn’t a white horse or a black horse any more, but one white horse with black stripes, and one black horse with white stripes.

Later, when they had a family, all of their babies had black and white stripes and short hair sticking straight up. The other animals in the jungle decided to call them Zebras instead of horses. The horses didn’t mind, they still loved each other and their family.

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Or are they?

What if a metal fly could buzz around the room and return to his makers hand? Or a mechanical duck was so life-like it actually fooled the real ones? Or how about clockwork boys that could write stories or draw pictures? Would they still seem so unreal?

These early forms of animatronics were called, automatons (aw-tom-uh-tuhns). Once set in motion, these complex ‘toys’ took on a life of their own. What’s their secret? Even though they were powered by a simple turn of a key, inside was an elaborate set up of springs, driving gears, ratchet wheels and axles. Something like a clock. In fact, it was usually clock-makers or inventors who constructed them.

THAT FLY’S A LIE

One of the earliest forms of automaton was made in the late 1400′s by a German inventor by the name of Karel Grod. Grod was often invited to royal banquets and it was there that he would release his small invention, the metal fly.

This pesky bug would flit across the room, buzz around the guests at the long dining table and finally return to Grod. A few years later, Grod went on to invent a life-size, mechanical eagle that could be seen flying around the town.

A BIRD OF A DIFFERENT FEATHER…

In 1739, a man by the name of Jacques de Vaucanson invented perhaps the most famous automaton. Simply known as, ‘The Duck,’ this mechanical bird had over 400 moving parts in each wing alone. These intricate workings allowed it to flap it’s wings up and down. But that’s not all. The Duck was also known for its quacking and even looked like it was breathing. However, it’s most extraordinary feat was perhaps its ability to ‘digest’ grain. It would eat the food have a drink then proceed to poop out a greenish pellet.

Since the original duck has disappeared, these mechanical abilities still remain a mystery today.

BOY-BOTS

Two of the most fantastic, mechanical figures ever constructed were by Jean-Pierre Droz, a watch-maker, and his son Henri-Louis.

‘The Writer,’ a full-size boy seated at a desk was created by Jean-Pierre. This boy-bot would dip his pen in a bottle of ink, tap off the excess and begin to write a story. The sentences were always clear and correct and the hand moved to the beginning of each new line.

Jean-Pierre learned well from his father and created his own automaton. Titled the ‘Designer,’ this mechanical boy was much more advanced than his father’s. Designed to sketch pictures, this automaton paused to examine its work, corrected errors and even blew the eraser dust from the page.

This mechanical artist was so good King Louis XVI of France even posed for a portrait. After the automaton was finished with the kings picture, it put down the pencil and waved his hand to present its work. So impressed with his find, King Louis demonstrated it in England and had the Designer draw portraits of the English royalty as well.

Automatons are still being designed and made today.  In fact, you may remember the hit movie, Hugo, he was an automaton.  For more information and fun, check out my interview with automaton maker, Dug North, on Sunday May 29th on knowonder blog

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A storm was brewing.  Dapper Duck paddled to the shore as fast as he could—nothing was worse than a muddy duck.  Yuck!

He waddled out of the water just as fat droplets fell from the sky.  They pelted his feathers.  Waddle waddle waddle.  He darted towards his family’s nest.

“You’re in an awful hurry, Dapper,” Mother said.

Dapper waddled under the dock.  “It’s raining, Mother,” Dapper said.  “I don’t want to be a soaked duck.”

“Where’s Dara?” Mother asked.  She peeked behind Dapper, looking for his little sister.

Dapper shook out his feathers.  He frowned.  “She was right behind me.”

He stuck his head into the rain and skimmed the pond.  He looked at the bank.  He looked in the shallow water.  He looked to the deep end.  Dapper froze.

“She’s stuck in the storm!” he said.

Mother gasped.  “Save her!” she quacked.

Dapper looked at the muddy bank.  He hated mud.  He looked at the pounding rain.  He did not like to be soaked from head to webbed foot.  Then he looked at Dara.

“I’m coming, Dara!” he called.

Dapper dashed into the rain.  He dived into the water.  He paddled as fast as his webbed feet would go.  Closer, closer, closer!

Dara paddled furiously to stay afloat.  Waves crashed around her as the wind blew the dark clouds closer.

“Help!” Dara quacked.

“Hold on to my tail feathers,” Dapper said.  He blinked against the pounding rain.

Dara snapped her bill onto Dapper’s tail feathers and Dapper swam back to shore.  They waddled over the muddy bank and darted under the protection of the dock.

“Are you okay?” Dapper asked.

“Yes,” Dara quacked. “You’re my hero!”

Dapper ruffled his feathers.

“My!” said Mother.  “You did a dashing job, Dapper!”

Dapper shuffled his webbed feet.  “Thank you,” he said.

Mother hovered over Dara and Dapper looked down at his muddy feathers.  What a mess.  Nothing was worse than a muddy duck.  Yuck!

The storm slowly subsided.  Dapper peeked outside, where other ducks, geese, and birds emerged from their shelters.  Dapper waddled out from the protection of the dock.

“Where are you going?” Mother asked.

“I need a bath,” said Dapper.  He waded into the swollen pond.  A group of birds huddled together.  They broke apart as Dapper swam close.

“Good afternoon, Dapper Duck!” called Goose.  “You look exceptionally dapper today!”

Dapper glanced at his muddy wings.  “Really?”

Seagull flew over.  “I say that you are more dashing today than ever!”

Dapper frowned.  “But I’m all muddy.”

Mr. Mallard swam up.  “Good show, Dapper!  What bravery!”

Now Dapper understood. They saw him rescue Dara!

One by one the other birds came.  They quacked, honked and squawked their agreement.

Dapper felt the mud caked on his wings, but somehow, he didn’t mind it anymore.  In fact, he felt more dapper than ever.

“Thank you,” he told his friends.

Dara swam over to him.  “Three cheers for Dapper Duck, the most dashing of all the ducks!”

Dapper smiled timidly.  “Maybe being a muddy duck isn’t really so bad, after all.”

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Once upon a time, there was a happy cloud family that loved each other very much.

Father cloud was big and billowy with a fluffy mustache. He loved to play catch the lightning bolt and thunder tag with his children.

Mother cloud had long, velvety, fluffy hair and a sweet loving smile. She wore an apron with cotton candy, sour lightning rocks and kwispy cloud puff balls hidden in the pockets.

Sister cloud kept her hair in braids and loved listening to the latest thunder rock tunes.

Brother cloud wore suspenders to hold up his pants.

One day brother put a lightning bolt under sister. Just before it went “BOOM,” sister floated up, and father stepped on it. Woosh! His mustache went flying right off!

“It will take me a whole month to grow that back,” Father rumbled.

Buddy cloud was the favorite of the family. He was very small and carried his fluffy, fleecy baby blanket under his arm. Buddy loved it when Father threw him high up in the air and let him fall back down.

“Stop it Daddee,” Buddy giggled. “You’re making me drizzle.”

One day Brother hid Buddy’s blanket behind his back. Mother did not think this was funny.

“Blankie,” Buddy cried. “Give me blankie.”

“Buddy can’t sleep without his blankie,” Mother chided.

“Oh fine,” Brother said. He gave Buddy his blanket.

Sister loved reading to Buddy cloud. She read him stories like “Super Cloud,” “Little Red Riding Cloud” and “The Three Little Clouds and the Big Bad Wind.”

“Sisser,” Buddy said, “me ‘fraid of bad wind.”

“Me too,” Sister said, “but remember the good wind always helps in the end.”

Mother cloud sang a soft, soothing lullaby and rocked Buddy to sleep.

The next day, Mother cloud taught her children about the three kinds of rain.

“When you rain tears of sadness, plants will not grow,” Mother said.

“Yeah and when you rain tears of anger, they don’t grow either,” Brother said with a smirk. “Remember when father got mad and flooded that lady’s garden. Those plants were swimming for days,” Brother chuckled.

“AHEM, listen to your mother,” Father thundered.

“When we rain tears of happiness, the plants do best,” Mother said. “Now concentrate hard and rain on those three flower beds down there.”

Brother cloud tried first.

“Think happy thoughts,” Mother said.

“I’ll just think about Father flooding that lady’s garden,” Brother giggled. Brother started to laugh and rain poured out onto the flower bed below. The flowers bent over with the strain of the pelting rain.

“Not funny thoughts dear,” Mother insisted, “happy thoughts.”

“I can do it,” Sister said. “I’ll just think about the day Buddy was born.”

Rain poured gently out of sister onto a bed of colorful roses below. The buds opened beautifully.

“Perfect,” Mother said.

“Me try,” Buddy said.

Buddy tried hard but he couldn’t rain at all.

“It’s alright,” Sister said. “You will learn soon.”

Brother pinched Buddy.

“Ouch,” Buddy said, as he started to cry. His tears fell onto the flower bed. The flowers did not grow.

Mother zapped Brother with a lightning bolt.

“Ouch,” Brother said, “I was just trying to help.”

“Me want to cry happy rain,” Buddy said with a sniffle.

“You will learn Buddy . . . just let warm, happy thoughts fill your heart,” Mother said, giving Brother a scolding look. “We’ll practice again tomorrow.”

The cloud family enjoyed floating along together.

Without warning, a big, billowy, blustery wind rushed in. The wind was very stormy. The wind blew hard.

“Momma,” Buddy yelled, as the wind blew right at him.

“Buddy!” Mother Cloud screamed reaching toward Buddy, but the wind was too strong.

The wind blew Buddy far away from his family.

Buddy made a sail out of his blankie. He tried to steer back to his family. The wind wouldn’t let him go.

Buddy floated for days, until the wind finally stopped over a farm. The plants on the farm were brown and wilting because they needed water. A little boy and his family lived on the farm. They needed food. They prayed for rain.

Buddy missed his family. His tears poured down in great big drops.

“Look, mom and dad,” the little boy said. “It’s raining. That little cloud is saving our farm. Thank you, little cloud. Thank you for the rain.”

But the rain wasn’t a happy rain. Buddy wanted to help the boy, but he missed family very, very much.

“The rain does not seem to be helping,” the farmer told his family. “We need a steady rain or the plants are going to die.”

Buddy knew he had to cry happy tears for the plants to grow but every time he thought about his family, the unhappy rain just poured out.

Buddy drifted in front of the sun. A cool breeze shaded the boy and his father as they worked hard in the field.

“I love the shade,” the boy said.

Buddy felt kind of happy inside knowing he had helped the boy.

Buddy started giving the boy shade every day when he worked.

When the boy tried to fly his kite and it would not stay up, Buddy held it for him.

“Thank you little cloud,” the boy said smiling.

One day, the father was working hard on his tractor. Sweat poured from his red face. Buddy did his best to shade the father from the sun. The boy was working hard in a different part of the field. Buddy could only shade one of them.

“I wish another cloud was here today,” Buddy said. I know, Buddy thought, I can send my blankie over to shade the boy. Buddy blew his blankie over toward the boy.

The boy looked up and smiled, as the little cloud blanket shaded him from the sun.

The day was hot and long. The little cloud blanket started to wear away as it blocked the hot sun for the boy. By the end of the day, the blanket had worn away to almost nothing.

Buddy put the little piece of blankie that was left in his pocket. He had lost his most precious treasure; and yet he felt happy inside after sharing the thing he loved the most. Buddy let the sun shine through. One, little sad tear fell, when he thought about blankie.

Then, a miracle happened. Buddy rained a gentle, flowing rain, as happiness flooded his heart. From that day on, Buddy knew how to cry happy rain. Every time the plants needed water, Buddy rained on them. All the plants thrived.

Soon it was picking time on the farm. Many families arrived to buy food. The farmer had never had such a grand harvest of all kinds of fruits and vegetables: tomatoes as big as cantaloupes, bushels full of juicy peaches, truckloads full of watermelon, sweet corn, green beans, and squash. Everyone was happy.

Buddy Cloud was glad. Yet, seeing all the families reminded him of his own family. After everyone went home, the rain poured out of him.

The next day the farmer’s wife could feel the chill in the fall wind. A strong, good wind blew past the little farm. Several new clouds blew in.

In the distance Buddy could see one of the bigger clouds throw a lightning bolt. It reminded him of the game he played with Father, Brother and Sister, so long ago. Buddy rushed forward and caught the bolt.

“Son, is that you? No, it can’t be Buddy,” the big cloud sighed.

“Pappa!” Buddy cried. “Pappa . . . is that you?”

Mother cloud looked up and shouted, “Buddy . . . my dear, sweet Buddy!!!”

The cloud family surrounded Buddy in a big loving hug.

“Don’t you EVER get lost like that again,” Brother insisted.

“Oh Buddy,” Sister said, “I knew the good wind would help us find you!”

Mama gave Buddy a big kiss and said, “Look at how you’ve grown.”

The good wind started to blow Buddy and his family away from the farm.

“Not so fast,” Buddy said moving out of the path of the wind. “I want to stay and help the boy.”

“Don’t worry,” the good wind promised. “I will blow you and your family back here so you can help in the Spring.”

“Promise,” Buddy said.

“Of course!” the good wind smiled.

“Goodbye,” Buddy waved to the boy.

The boy smiled and waved goodbye.

The cloud family floated away together in a beautiful, colorful sunset.

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Sun was bored. He’d been in the same spot for over 5 billion years. He needed a break . . . a change of scene, maybe even new friends. He needed a vacation.

So Sun put on his travel clothes and left. He travelled fast and far. He saw many different solar systems. All the suns were different, the planets strange.

The first sun he came upon was big and busy and none too friendly. She only had three planets under her pull, but they were so busy revolving around her that they didn’t even stop to say “Hello.” Sun sped on his way and travelled further into space.

Soon he discovered another solar system with hundreds of weird and wonderful planets. Some were friendly and welcomed Sun as they passed on their orbits, but most just went about their business.

“Wow! The big city,” said Sun.

Here Sun visited parks and museums; galleries and shops. He went to the beach. He even went to the zoo.

After a few days, Sun became lonely. He missed his home and the old familiar planets. They were small and simple compared to these planets, but always friendly. Yet Sun had come this far, maybe he’d find a friend at the next stop.

Meanwhile, back at Sun’s home, all the planets were left in darkness. They drifted around like gigantic balloons. Mercury bumped into Venus. Mars stuck to Jupiter like a big wad of gum, and Earth floated lazily up into space.

The scientists from Earth were worried.

“What happened to the Sun?” they shouted.

The leaders from Mars and Jupiter held a big meeting to discuss the problem.

Saturn put out a call to other solar systems for help.

“I saw him leave,” Pluto shouted from far away. “He put on his sun glasses and just left. He went that way,” said Pluto pointing. But no one listened to Pluto anymore . . . except a small boy from Earth who quickly dashed off a letter to send in his cardboard rocket ship.

Dear Sun,

Where are you? We miss you. The animals are cold, the plants are droopy, and I’m afraid of the dark. Even the moon won’t shine. Please come home.

Love,

Oscar (from Earth)

Oscar’s trusty rocket zoomed into outer space carrying his letter. It travelled fast and far.

On the other side of the universe, Sun wandered aimlessly until “. . . Ooooh, what’s that?” Sun came upon yet another solar system. This one was HUMONGOUS and had two suns.

Seeing Sun, the bigger of the two suns sped over, “Hey stranger, wanna go swimming? It’s really hot today.”

“We were just headin’ over to that new amusement park, the Milky Way, to try out the water slide,” the other one said. “We hear it’s totally awesome!”

Sun had never been on a water slide before and he was getting tired of being alone.  He agreed to go.

Not only did they ride the water slide, they also rode the Super Satellite Wheel, the Meteor Go Round, and the Asteroid Rockin’ Roller Coaster.

“Now let’s try the Haunted Black Hole!” the bigger sun said.

“Hmm, I don’t think so. I have to be moving on,” Sun said. Earth had warned him about black holes long ago. “Thanks for the fun day, guys, but I better be going home,” and he left.

Sun realized, however, that he didn’t know where he was or how to get home. He soon thought of an easy way to decide:

“Eeenie-Meenie-Miney-Mo,

Catch a Martian by his toe.

If he hollers let him go,

Eeenie-Meenie-Miney-Mo.

My friends told me to pick the very best way,

And you are not it!”

Sun turned, and just as he prepared to travel at ultrasonic speed to the wrong corner of the universe, Cardboard Rocket landed lightly on his shoulder, opened its hatch, and displayed Oscar’s letter.

Sun smiled. Sun wept. He followed cardboard rocket like lightning back to his home.  The planets were thrilled to have Sun back. Mercury quickly sped back to its spot. Mars got unstuck from Jupiter, and Earth shot back down to its old orbit eager to get warm and grow its plants again.

“I’m home!” shouted Sun. “It was fun to go on vacation, but it sure feels good to return to my friends.”

Oscar just turned his face to the sky and waved.

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~  When many mice are together they are a mischief.

~  Too many porcupines cause a prickle.

~   A clutter of cats can be a comfort, even in a chowder.

~  A litter of puppies will leave you with a puddle.

~  When bats fly they cause a cloud.

~  A cartload of monkeys will be troop and a barrel of fun.

~ A study of owls will cause a stare and be filled with wisdom.

~ Squadron of pelicans is sure to be a scoop.

~  A cast of crabs may end up in a bushel, while their friends the clam lie in their bed.

~  Instead of flowers, how about a bouquet of pleasant pheasants?

~  A company of parrots will most certainly cause pandemonium.

And all these animals together?  It would be a zoopendous amount of fun!

Can You Guess?

Now that you’ve learned about animal groups, try to guess what a gathering of giraffe’s is called?

Hint; when giraffe’s are together it’s the same name as the famous Eiffel…?

If you guessed tower you’re right!

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Packrat jumped out of bed. “Yippee! Today is treasure hunt day!”

He munched a fast breakfast then dug through his nest. First he found his favorite hat. He plopped it on his head. Then he found his favorite sunglasses. He stuck them on his snout.

“Lovely treasures here I come!” Packrat sang.

He scampered past spiny cacti, but he didn’t see any treasures.

He scurried past thorny shrubs, but still saw no treasures.

Hmm. How about in the shade under that mesquite tree?

Packrat squinted nearsightedly through his sunglasses into the shadows. “Ooo, a cool-looking bumpy rock,” he squeaked. “It’ll be my perfect treasure.”

But it was kind of big, maybe even too big.

Packrat slid his front paws under the rock and…the rock giggled. “Hee-hee, ha-ha, that tickles,” it said.”

Packrat blinked. “Tortoise! I didn’t know you were a rock.”

“I’m not,” Tortoise said, giggling again.

“Oh.” Packrat frowned. “Too bad because you would’ve made a perfect treasure.”

“Maybe you can find a perfect treasure if you keep searching,” Tortoise suggested. “I’ll be happy to help. I’ve never hunted for treasure before”

“Let’s go!”

So go they did. But not fast because Tortoise had only one speed. SLOW.

They passed several big boulders and tall saguaro cacti with arms but saw nothing that looked like a treasure.

Soon they came to a small hole in the ground. “Eureka!” Packrat cried. “We’ll widen the hole and find my treasure hidden inside!”

But before he and Tortoise could start digging Tarantula’s hairy, scowling face peeked out of the hole. “What’s with the racket? Can’t a spider get some sleep around here?”

Packrat sighed. “Oh, dear me, it’s you, Tarantula. Why couldn’t you have been a treasure?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean I’m on a treasure hunt and even though Tortoise is helping I still can’t find any treasure.”

“Maybe you need more eyes? I have eight of ‘em. Let me come along and we’ll be sure to find treasure. And I’ll get to stretch and exercise my eight legs at the same time.”

“Let’s go!”

So go they did. But not fast because Tarantula and Tortoise had only one speed. The same speed. SLOW.

They passed more cacti, more boulders, more shrubs and more trees, but saw nothing that looked like a treasure.

Then they felt a gust of wind. And behind the wind was more wind in the shape of a swirling dust devil.

“I bet my treasure’s in the middle of that,” Packrat yelled. “Let’s duck behind this bush until it spins to a stop.”

They didn’t have long to wait. And then out of the settling dust stepped…

“Roadrunner!” Tortoise gasped.

“What a strange treasure,” Tarantula said.

“He’s not a treasure,” Packrat grumbled.

Roadrunner waved a foot. “Howdy, neighbors. Pardon the dust. I’m practicing for the upcoming Rough and Rocky Roadrunner Race. But did I hear someone say something about a treasure?”

Tortoise nodded. “Packrat’s on a treasure hunt. Tarantula and I are helping.”

“And we’re having no luck at all,” Packrat moaned. “Three times I thought I had found my treasure. And three times I’ve been wrong. I’ve struck out in my treasure hunt! Wah-wah-wah!” he sobbed.

“Dear me!” Roadrunner said. “Here, take a swig from my water bottle before you cry all your tears out and dry up and blow away in the wind.”

Packrat drank from the bottle. Then he drank some more. And some more.

“Oh no,” Tortoise said. “Packrat’s really upset. He’s going to drink so much he’ll turn into a hairy water balloon and pop!”

But Packrat didn’t pop. He handed the water bottle back to Roadrunner and smiled. “Thank you, Roadrunner. Thank you everyone. That much needed moisture got my brain working right again. I’ve realized I have found my perfect treasure. Three perfect treasures, in fact.”

“You have?” asked Tortoise..

“What are they?” Tarantula asked.

“Tell us quick,” added Roadrunner.

“Friends,” Packrat said. “Friends like you, Tortoise, and you, Tarantula, who helped me search. And a friend like you, Roadrunner, who gave me water so I wouldn’t dry up and blow away in the wind. Friends like you three are the best treasures of all.

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Grandpa sat in a chair in the lounge of the care center for the elderly with his eyes closed, his head hung low, and his hands folded across his lap. To any onlooker, he would appear asleep, and that’s exactly what he wanted. If he was sleeping, they wouldn’t bother him.

But Grandpa Sorenson wasn’t asleep. Grandpa Sorenson almost never slept, because he was, in fact, a Super Hero.

Like all people, though, even Super Heros get old, and when his wife had passed away a few years ago, his children came and told him he’d be better off in a care center, where he could meet new people, socialize, and have help whenever he needed it. His children all lived far away, now. His son was a doctor in Miami, and his daughter was a Professor in California. He was proud of them, and loved them very much, but he knew the last thing he needed was to be stuck inside a care center. Old Folks’ Home is what it is, he thought to himself. He chuckled out loud, but tried to stop himself to not ruin his disguise of sleep, so instead, it came out as a sort of loud snort that sounded like a mix between an elephant and a monkey.

Luckily, no one was close enough to bother him, and truth be told, no one would say much to him if he didn’t say something to them, first. Grandpa was sort of a loner at the home. He just didn’t fit in. Oh, the others all pretended to be nice to him, but they were just being polite. When he didn’t play their old-people games, or watch their old-people shows, the others gradually stopped inviting him to join them, and now, it was rare for anyone to even say hello to him as he walked down the hall.

Well, thought Grandpa, I don’t need them, anyway. They’ll all be gone in a couple of years, but I’ll still be here. Strong and able, and ready to save the world!

That sounded like a good idea, actually. Just what the doctor ordered. A good, exciting adventure would help clear the head, get the blood pumping, and break up the never-ending boredom of his new home.

But if he opened his eyes, or got out of his chair, the nurses would pounce on him. Those cursed nurses!, he thought. Why can’t they leave me alone? But he knew why. Because they were curious. They were on to him. They knew he wasn’t nearly as weak and feeble as the others. If only he hadn’t stopped that car from hitting Old Betty. Of course, he couldn’t have let it hit her, either, he supposed. Unfortunately, Betty had talked. Why didn’t the nurses just ignore her? Chalk it up to dementia?

Well, it is what it is, he decided. And I’m not going to just waste my life away, sitting here, afraid of some silly nurses. They can’t prove anything, anyway. Let them have their suspicions. I’m off to find adventure, danger, and hopefully a few people who will appreciate a helpful hand, even if it is an old Grandpa’s.

Grandpa stood up, and with an agility that all the other grandmas and grandpas envied, made his way to his room to gather his things. As he passed room number 45, though, he heard a sound that stopped him dead in his tracks. His Super Hero ears zoomed in on the sound. Yes, sniffles, he thought. Someone has been crying. He shook his head and tried to ignore the sound, to continue to his room, but his Super Hero heart wouldn’t let him. Here was someone who needed help, and needed it now.

He looked at the nameplate by the door. Mrs. Fettington. Oh no, he thought. Why her? She’s probably just crying because she woke up too late and missed Wheel of Fortune. But even though his mind didn’t want to be there, his heart moved his feet forward, and before he knew it, he was softly knocking on the door. It wasn’t closed all the way, and opened slightly when he knocked.

“Yes,” came a soft voice from inside. “Who is it?”

Grandpa cleared his throat. “It’s me, Mr. Sorenson. I heard crying. Is there anything I can do to help?”

“Oh, no, Mr. Sorenson. I’m sorry to have disturbed you. Please pay no attention to me,” and she started crying all over again.

Grandpa came into the room and sat on the chair next to her. “Please tell me all about it,” he said.

She proceeded to tell him all about her son, and her two grandchildren, and how they were coming to visit her in just a few hours for Christmas, and she didn’t have any presents for them. It wasn’t that she didn’t have any money – she just couldn’t get out of the home anymore. Her legs didn’t work right, and she got weak so quickly. She worried that this might be the last Christmas she would ever see her grandchildren and son again, and wanted to give them something special. She knew exactly the toys that they wanted, if only she could get them, somehow.

“Never fear, my lady,” said Super Grandpa, feeling enthused because he had just found a mission. Now, shopping might not seem all that adventurous to some of you, but to a man, in New York City, at Christmas time, it’s one of the scariest events of the year. It was perfect.

Mrs. Fettington gave him some money, and then he grabbed his jacket, scarf and hat, and stepped out his door.

“Mr. Sorenson,” said a nurse as she came toward him down the hall.

“Mr. Sorenson, we need to take your blood. We need to do a test.”

Grandpa didn’t stick around. He walked briskly the other way, pushed open the door, and ran around the corner of the building. He looked around to make sure no one was looking, then flew off into the air above.

He landed on the roof of the mall behind a large snowdrift, and quickly made his way down the stairs and inside. People were everywhere! Hundreds, even thousands of them, coming and going in all directions. It was complete mayhem. Grandpa knew exactly what to buy, and exactly what store it was in, but it was going to take Super Hero powers to get there and back to Mrs. Fettington in time.

He assessed the situation. He was on the third floor, and the store he needed was on the first. He looked at the stairs. Jam-packed with people. Then he saw the escalators. They were packed, too, but the handrail was completely open.

“Look out below”, he called, as he jumped onto the rail and slid past everyone. “Woohoo!” he called out, truly enjoying the ride.

With Super Speed he ran to the store, and bought the presents. Then he flew back to the home, and gave the gifts to Mrs. Fettington just as her grandchildren knocked on the her door.

“Thank you, so much!” said Mrs. Fettington, as tears filled her eyes. “You will never know how important this is to me. You are my hero.”

She gave Grandpa a hug, and a small kiss on the cheek. Grandpa blushed, but inside, he felt his heart swell with gratitude. And as he watched her grandson open the model spaceship, and her granddaughter open the fairy castle, tears crept into his eyes, as well.

Super Grandpa slipped out of the room and went to his room. He laid down on his bed, and for the first time since coming to the new home, he was pretty sure he had just made a new friend, and he was happy.

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Threatening black clouds moved ever-faster overhead, rolling in like a rough sea to announce the start of the rainy season. Following a blinding flash of lightening, the rumbling thunder vibrated the earth underfoot as though a great underground dragon had been disturbed. The wind whistled through the nearby trees. The light was fading fast.

Temba stood in the doorway of the family’s sleeping hut as he watched the approaching storm, a pang of fear shooting through his stomach. He knew that if it rained now the river would fill and his mother would be stranded on the other side.

His sister Tulu was cooking the evening meal, while their younger siblings chased each other and wrestled nearby in the family’s cooking hut. Temba could hear pretend growling and roaring, then the shrieks of laughter from Nonde and Sulu.

Suddenly, the rain fell cold and painful on Temba’s skin.

Temba wondered what he would do if his mother did not get back, but knew that Zulu men are warriors and do not show fear. I must go out and look for her, he decided.

He walked into the rain, leaving his young charges in the warmth and dryness of the cook hut. Temba found the path to the village deserted, the ground packed hard from the many feet that had worn the ground smooth. Even the huts that he passed were empty. Fear tied knots in his stomach now. With no one around, he knew that all he could do was return to the village, and hope that their mother would be back soon.

As he trotted back through the village, he heard screams from the cooking hut.

“Temba, help us!”

While he was gone, the pounding rain had triggered a flash flood that poured down the mountain hard enough to knock down part of the mud wall in the cook hut, letting the roof fall on Temba’s siblings, trapping them. Temba ran to the hut.

“Tulu, Nonde, Sulu, are you all right?” Temba shouted over the rain. He ran around the hut, looking for a way to reach the others.

How can I help them? I must get them out of there, he thought frantically. Oh, if only Father was here. He would know what to do. However, Temba knew that he had to be the man of the family while his father was away.

Temba looked around until he spotted a thin tree trunk that had been collected for the fire. He lifted the trunk and carried it across to the cooking hut.

“Go in there, please, go in there!” He pushed the trunk as hard as he could under the roof. The thin trunk was heavy and hard to push through the debris but once it was far enough under, he leaned hard on it, trying to lift the roof. At first nothing moved. He leaned harder, willing himself to be stronger and heavier.

“I will get you out of there – somehow!” he shouted over the howling wind.

“Hurry, Temba, please!” Tulu begged “The water is rising fast in here.”

Temba’s muscles ached. He put all his weight into the push and barely felt the roof shift. He was beginning to think that he had failed his parents. Even so, he refused to give up.

With all his strength, he pushed again, and suddenly the load was lighter. Temba realized other hands had joined him in pushing down on the trunk. God has heard my prayers.

“Push Temba,” a strong voice said beside him. “We can lift it.”

Temba’s knees shook from relief. “Mother, you’re back.”

Slowly Temba and his mother lifted the roof, until they had made enough space for his siblings to crawl out.

“Tulu, come quick!” Temba called to his sister. “Bring your brother and sister out here.”

One by one, the children crawled out from under the roof. Once they were all safely clear of the fallen debris, Temba and his mother let the roof settle down again. Temba turned to the younger children.

“I’m glad you’re okay, and I’m sorry I left you when I did.”

“You’re the best,” Tulu replied wrapping her thin arms around him. “If it wasn’t for your fast thinking, we’d still be trapped.”

“Temba, you have just proven that you are a man,” his mother added, laying her hand on his shoulder. “Your father will be proud.”

“But, Mother,” he said. “I should not have left them. It was my mistake that put them in danger.”

His mother smiled at him. “Everyone makes mistakes, but a man makes them right again. Trust me your father will be proud.”

The knot unclenched in Temba’s chest and he smiled. “Thank you, Mother.”

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Marc put on his fire-truck pajamas and snuggled under his cozy blanket.  His mother kissed him ‘good-night’.

“Sweet dreams,” said Mom, shutting the door.

Nestling his head on the fluffy pillow, Marc’s eyes closed and he drifted off to sleep.  A few minutes later he was startled by a snuffle, then a sniffle.  Was someone crying? He flung back the covers and jumped out of bed. He flicked on the lights.  The sobs were faint.  Where were they coming from?

The floor cre-e-eaked as he tip-toed around his room.  Quickly checking under the bed and peeking behind the curtains revealed nothing.  Marc stood still and cupped his ear to the closet door.  He held his breath and strained to hear the sobs. They were inside the closet.

“H-h-hello?”

“Are you the fireman?” Came a voice from inside.

Straining to see through the slats in the door, Marc pressed his nose up against the wood. “I’m Marc.”

“Well, are you a fireman, Marc? You have lots of fire trucks.  Even the bed and lamp shade are covered in them.”

“No, but I like fire trucks.”

Marc reached for the doorknob and eased it open. A very sad-looking, pot-bellied dragon stood inside  His pink transparent wings were wrapped around his enormous purple body.  His long neck curled downward and his large head hung low toward the floor.  A pool of tears drenched the carpet where he was sitting.

“I’m sorry for getting your carpet wet,” the dragon said.  “My name is Scortch.”

“That’s ok. Nice to meet you, Scortch.  Why are you crying?”

“I’m allergic to paper.  I sneeze whenever I am near it.”

“I’m allergic to strawberries, but I don’t cry about it.  I just stay away from them.”

“But I like to do Origami,” sobbed Scortch.

“What’s that?”

Reaching under his scales, Scortch pulled out a small square of colored paper.  He creased it this way, then that. When he was done, he held a small paper dragon in the center of his clawed paw. “It’s a special way to fold paper into shapes,” Scortch said.

“Wow! That’s cool,” said Marc.

“Ah-ah-ahchoo!”  A stream of flames from Scortch’s nose turned the little folded figure it into ashes.  “See?”

“Oh, “ Marc said.  “Now I see why you’re upset.”

Scortch stood from the puddle his tears had made. “I noticed you like fire engines and thought you were a fireman.”

“Yeah, I have a lot of fire trucks,” Marc said, pointing to the assortment red toy engines around his room.

“Origami is my favorite thing to do in the whole wide world,” said Scortch. “I was hiding in your closet because the other dragons make fun of me, because when I sneeze I always burn up everything I make.  I was going to ask if you could help me stop the fire that comes out of my nose when I sneeze, but you aren’t a fireman.”

“I don’t think you can stop it.  It’s just what dragons do.”

The new friends sat on the closet floor in silence.  Marc thought and thought for a solution. “I’ve got it!  I’ll be right back.”

Marc ran out of the room and returned after a few minutes.  “Here,” he said, handing Scortch a heavy, black object.

Scortch looked at it and was confused. “You’re giving me a metal helmet?”

Marc placed the helmet on Scortch’s long snout.  “My dad is a welder.  He uses fire to melt metal.  This helmet protects his face when he works.  If you wear it when you do Origami, it will block your sneezes and protect your paper animals from catching on fire.”

Scortch’s frown was replaced by a wide tooth-filled smile.  “That’s a great idea! Thanks.”

Reaching under his scales a second time, Scortch removed another colored sheet of paper and folded it.  As the mask hung from his shout, he made a second paper dragon.  He held it in his claw and waited… and waited.  No sneeze.  The mask blocked his urge to sneeze.  He handed the paper dragon to Marc.

Marc felt a smile on his own face.  “Can I try?”

“Sure. Watch me,” said Scortch. With more colored paper, Scortch folded the paper slowly.  Marc imitated everything his new friend did as best he could with his own slip of paper. By the end of the hour, Marc had an entire zoo of paper animals lined up on his bed.

“The helmet works!” Scortch said with excitement.

“Now you can make as many animals that you want,” said Marc.

“Can I visit you again?”

“That would be great!”

Scortch stepped back into the closet.  “See you soon, Marc.”  He gave a small wiggly wave of his claw as he closed the door.

Marc lined up his paper animals on the table next to his bed before getting back under the covers.  He smiled at the collection as he turned over and went to sleep.

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Not all animals and insects have normal ears, or a normal way of listening to the world around them.  Bats, bees and snakes are a few critters that rely of ‘sound-waves’ to hunt, navigate and avoid dangerous situations.

Bee-Vibe

Did you know bees have ears?  It’s called the Tympanum (tim-puh-nuh).  This small organ has a hole with a thin membrane stretched across it, something like a drum.  It’s located in the bee’s tiny abdomen and is considered the bee’s main “ear.”  As the bee moves its back-end up and down, this organ is able to “hear” vibrations in the air.

The bee’s feet and antennae also work as hearing.  They’re so sensitive they can pick up the smallest vibration around them.  This bee-vibe helps keep them safe from predators.

Stereo Sound Snake

Even though snakes don’t have outer ears that we can see, they do have fully developed inner ears.  It’s called the “cochlea” (kok-lee-uh).   Bones and muscles in the snake’s lower jaw also connect to the inner ear.  And just like the bee, this specially designed “ear” can pick up vibrations from the ground.

However, unlike other animals, the snake can unhinge its jaw one side at a time.  This is thought to allow the snake to hear in stereo sound.

Bat Mega-Phone

Bats use ‘Echolocation’ to navigate the night skies. This is a type of sonar. The Leaf-Nosed Bat, as its name suggests, has a leaf-shaped structure in its nose that acts like a mega-phone.  When the bat wants to locate something it emits a short “shout” (10-15 per second).  It then listens for the echo-info coming back.  The echolocation pulse only lasts a few thousandths of a second.  However, the bats brain and ears are so highly tuned they can interpret the brief silences in between calls.  This allows them to hunt, locate roosting crevices, and avoid bumping into things.

To learn more about the Sound Feelers, visit your local library, a museum, or the internet.

Wonder Words

~ Membrane – a skin-like structure that lines, connects, or covers a cell or part of the body

~  Cochlea – a Small bone filled with fluid that helps the snake hear by gathering sound.

~ Echolocation - the location of objects by reflected sound.

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Nathan usually wasn’t too excited about school, but today was different.  Today was show-n-tell, and what made it even more special than a normal show-n-tell day was the fact that Nathan was going to tell the class about his summer adventures with his dad and how he got the best job in the world.

He tried to wait patiently in his seat for the teacher to go through the roll and the announcements, but it was very difficult.  Finally, she looked at him with her eyes closed in slits and mouthed, “Sit Still!”

Nathan folded his arms on the desk and put his head down to try and look like he was holding still, but he couldn’t stop his leg from wiggling and bouncing up and down.

Finally, after an eternity, the teacher said, “Now, children, it’s time for Show-n-Tell, and today is Nathan’s turn.”  She gave one last look at Nathan, and with a pained look in her eyes that communicated her pleading desire for a quiet and normal presentation, took her seat.

Yes!, thought Nathan.  He grabbed his secret bag of cool surprises and headed to the front of the room.

“Hello, Class,” said Nathan, trying to remember his manners.

“Hello, Nathan!” said the class.

They were excited to see what he had brought.  He hadn’t stopped talking about what he was going to bring for two whole weeks!

“For Show-n-tell today,” said Nathan, “I want to show you what I’m going to be when I grow up.”

“Oooo,” said the class.

“I’m going to be a Carboy!” said Nathan with flair, as he pulled out his mechanic’s hat and put it on his head.

“A carboy?” asked Cindy, who sat in the front row.  “Don’t you mean a ‘cowboy’?”

“No,” said Nathan as he shook his head.  “I want to be a Carboy.  Like my dad.”  Nathan pulled out his mechanic’s overalls and put them on over his school clothes.  Then he put his worker gloves on.  His clothes were dirty and greasy, just like a good Carboy’s clothes should be, and he was proud to be wearing them.

But not everyone thought they were special.  “Eeeww, those are dirty!” said Julie.  “Don’t come close to me while you’re wearing those!”

“Yeah,” said Brian in the back row.  “Besides, Cowboys are what’s really cool!  Not a car mechanic.  Cowboys have guns and horses!”

Nathan knew the other kids might not think being a Carboy was cool, so he had come prepared.

He pulled out his air-powered drill.  “Now this is a gun!” he said.  “With this gun, I can screw tires on so tight that no cowboy anywhere could ever take them off again!  Plus, I can put four tires on a car faster than any cowboy can shoe his horse.”

“Aaaaa,” said the class.  They were impressed.

“Oh yeah,” said Brian, “Cowboys have horses!”

“I thought you’d say that,” said Nathan.

He pulled a long tube out of his bag and took off one end.  “I will need an assistant for this demonstration,” he said.  He looked at Debbie and winked.  He had a secret crush on Debbie and hoped she was enjoying his presentation.  She wrinkled up her nose and made a yucky face.

“I’ll help!” said Jeremy.

Together, the two boys took out a poster from inside the tube and unrolled it for all the class to see.  On the poster was a glossy, sleek, and very large engine.

“What is that thing?” said one kid.  “Yeah, what is it?  I’ve never seen one of those!”

“This, my friends, is much better than just one horse.  It is even better than 10 horses.  This is 350 horses!  And my dad and I built this engine over the summer.”

“Oooo,” said the class in unison, this time even more impressed.

Next, Nathan pulled out another poster.  As he and Jeremy unrolled it, “ooo’s” and “aaa’s” began erupting from around the classroom before Nathan even started talking.

“Now, you want to talk about horses?  This is the 1967 Ford Mustang Convertible.”  The red car on the poster gleaned with a shimmery power that captivated the children.  It raced down a windy, mountain road with deep green colors in the trees and grass in the background, and a profound blue colored sky above.

“This is the car my dad and I built over the summer.  The grease you see before you on my overalls and gloves is the same grease that lubricates this well-oiled machine.  The dirt and smudges you see are dirt and smudges that came from tender, loving care as we nursed this poor stallion back to health.  The holes and tears you see in my overalls are wounds of passion as our Mustang’s health improved and he began to fight against us so he could be free to race again in the wind!  And the tanned skin on my arms and face are evidence of the many hours of joy we have spent in the summer sun, riding our Mustang and roaming the wild countryside of the west!”

Nathan finished his speech and the class erupted in cheers.  They swarmed from their seats and thronged to the front of the room to touch the grease marks on his overalls, to hold the tools that had rebuilt the car, and to pour over the Mustang poster up-close.  Even Debbie came forward and took Nathan’s hand, looked him in the eyes, and said, “I love you!  Let’s run away together and start a ranch, where we raise lots and lots of Mustangs!”

Yes, thought Nathan.  I am a Carboy, and nothing can stop me now!

Something grabbed Nathan’s ear and pulled hard, bringing him out of his reverie.  “Ouch!” he said.

“Come on, young man.  You’re going to the principal’s office,” said his teacher.

“Huh?  Why?”

“For disturbing the peace.”

Nathan grinned.  Yep.  A true Carboy.

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