The rumbling grew louder. There was whining in it now. Even the squirrels who were playing the hardest couldn’t help noticing it.
“What is that sound?” said Zeck. “It’s driving me nuts. And I don’t mean that in a good way.”
“What would you say,” said Chai, “if I told you that it’s humans taking the forest away from around the buzzpaths?”
“Yeah, right,” said Zeck. “What would you say if I told you that it’s, that it’s—that it’s a swarm of giant bees, or locusts, maybe?”
“What would you say if I told you to put these nuts in your cheeks and take them to the other grove?” said Chai.
“Brlgbrrulbgbbrrll,” said Zeck.
The squirrels of the other grove began to sense that something was afoot. There was that awful noise, and there was also some kind of population explosion.
“Have you noticed,” said one elderly squirrel to his companion, “that there seem to be more of us than usual?”
“I thought maybe it was just me,” said his friend. “My memory isn’t what it used to be, but I keep seeing squirrels I don’t even recognize.* And not one or two, but a lot. Like that one!
“Excuse me,” he called out. “Are you from around here?”
The squirrel stopped. She took the nut from her teeth with her paws so she could speak.
“It’s me, Sherette,” she said sweetly.
“Ah yes,” said the old man. He didn’t remember her, but he didn’t want to admit it. “Sherette. Nice to see you. Carry on, then.”
And away she went.
“Hard to believe I could forget a face like that,” said the old animal. The next time she scampered by, he called out, “Hallooo, Sherette!” By the time after that, he had convinced himself that he really did remember her.
Meanwhile, TsTs coaxed the pups along an easy path, singing songs and cracking corny jokes.* When they reached the new place, she led them down a tree and right into the middle of the grove.
“We’re on a field trip!” she said to the first local they saw. “Is there a good place where we can set up camp?”
“‘Field trip?’” asked the squirrel.
“Yes,” said TsTs. “We’re going to a field. To see what it’s like.”
“Oh,” said the squirrel. “Um, you can stay anywhere, I suppose.” She looked up to suggest a likely spot. The trees seemed suddenly dotted with big brushy leaf-nests. She was sure there weren’t that many yesterday. Or maybe it just looked like more, with so many leaves down from the storm. But who did they belong to? And now, a squirrel she had never seen before ran up a tree.
“Well, who the heck is that?” she said, scratching her head.
“That’s Sherette!” said one of the pups. “Hi, Sherette!”
Sherette turned and waved, then went inside a nest.
“Sher-who?” asked the local.
“Sherette,” said TsTs quickly. “She’s with us. And it looks like she’s already got a start on our camp. Come on, kids! Up we go! Bring a leaf!”
The local squirrel, whose name was Buffy,* watched them go. Then she watched another unfamiliar squirrel, this one with a faceful of nuts, scurry along a branch. And here came one with a reddish tinge, in close conversation with two elderly grays.
“There must be a lot of these ‘field trips’ happening today,” she murmured. “And to think I never heard of one before.”
She felt so unsettled. Discombobulated. Was it these strangers, or that weird rumbling? It kept getting louder, and more drone-y and whiny and relentless. What the heck was it? She covered her ears and went off to her den.
Something was happening. Something was not right, something big. You couldn’t see it, but you could hear it and feel it. You could even smell it. It was happening ever closer, ever louder. It was harsh and grating and shrill, with thunks and wailing. Everyone was on edge. One by one, old-timers and newcomers alike crawled into dens and nests, and wished and hoped and waited for the bad feeling to go away. No one wanted to go back out and see what it was. It was too wrong out there.
Our squirrels, the game-playing squirrels, were in makeshift nests, which made it scarier yet. Some of them were doing better than others.
TsTs snuggled with the pups. By now, they thought she was the world’s best babysitter. When she told them it would be okay, they believed her.
In a nearby hollow, Brk’s mouth was dry. His right eyelid twitched. His tensed muscles pestered him impatiently to either fight something or flee. But he believed that he needed to be strong for his team. He had found them this excellent shelter, and now he would keep up morale.
“This, too, shall pass,” he said. “The darkest hour is just before the dawn. If we all work together, and do what needs to be done, we can whistle a happy tune.” Things like that. He had a million of them. And even though Chebby and Jutta and especially Tchke all knew more about what was going on than Brk did, his words made them feel calmer. So maybe he really was a leader. At least in this situation.
Chai’s team was in a drey that was barely holding together. It was also tippy. It wobbled each time someone moved, or even coughed. Zeck paced in circles around the others, trying to calm himself. Chai felt the drey tilt dangerously from side to side as Zeck circled.
“If we all just keep still,” he said, “I think—”
But he didn’t finish, because Zeck had disappeared through a weak spot in the floor. The last thing they saw was the surprised look on his face. Instinctively, everyone backed away from the hole. The drey went off balance and tumbled out of the tree with all of them (minus Zeck) inside.
Jed, the only squirrel still outside on purpose, was throwing together a quick nest when a movement caught his eye. He turned to see Zeck, then the drey, falling through the air. He winced as they hit the earth, inches and seconds apart.
“Ouch,” he said. But Zeck jumped up uninjured and scrambled inside the collapsed drey. The leafy heap heaved and thrashed as if it might erupt. Then it seemed to shape itself, from the inside, into a mound, and was still. Sort of.
Dotty and Jip’s team plastered themselves against the wall of the hollow Dotty had found. The opening faced back toward home, so noise came pouring in. On the upside, thought Dotty, I can’t hear Jip. She could see that he was still talking. She could tell he was scared. She was scared, too. They all were.
She willed herself to lean over and peer out of the hole. She couldn’t see anything unusual. Except—a lightness that shouldn’t be there. As if there were a clearing. Dotty studied it, puzzled, until a wave of sound whomped her in the face. She pulled her head back inside and shut her eyes tight.
Sherette’s team was squabbling. She stepped outside, believe it or not, to escape the noise. Plus it was getting stuffy in there. Too many squirrels. Paws over her ears, she stood on a limb and looked toward the racket. She saw the lightness, too. She frowned. And then she headed off to see what it was.
After a long time, the sound seemed to be moving by. Leaving. And then, abruptly, it stopped. One by one, the squirrels ventured outside, where they gathered into two clumps. One clump was made up of the squirrels who had always lived here. The other was made up of the game-playing squirrels. It was one of these new squirrels who spoke first.
“Is the game over now?” asked Dotty. “I don’t like this game.” She shook her head, trying to get rid of the ringing in her ears.
“Game?” asked one of the locals. “Is that what this is? A game?”
The two groups turned to face each other.
Sherette raced into the grove, breathless. She looked from one group to the other.
“Sherette!” cried the old man.
“Hallo,” she said politely. “Nuts to you.” Then she turned, searching, until her eyes found Jed.
“Our grove,” she said. “It’s—it’s gone!”
BOTH groups of squirrels turned toward Sherette. The old man chuckled. He said, “Sherette, you silly girl. Look around you. You’re in the Grove, dear.”
>
But his friends and neighbors stared at the newcomers in bewilderment.
“Who are you all?” one of them called out.
“Why are you here?” someone shouted. “Why did all of you come at once?” “What do you want?” A grumbling arose. The shouts turned quickly to “Get out of here!” “Leave us alone!” and “Go back to your own grove!”
“B-But—” said Sherette.
“Who’s gonna make us?” said Brk. He stepped forward, ready for a fight.
“Yeah,” said Jip. “Who?” He struck a menacing pose just aft of Brk, who he hoped to use as a shield if the going got nasty. Behind them, their baffled compatriots tensed up and prepared to defend themselves. The pups ran to their mothers.
TsTs turned to Jed.
“Now what?” she said.
Jed jumped up onto a stump where he could be seen by everyone.
“We are squirrels, like you,” he said. “And we brought our own nuts. May I tell you a story?”
“Story first, fight later,” as the saying goes. Jed hoped it would hold true. He wasted no time.
“Amid the thick and intertwining boughs, among the limbs, branches, and leafy twigs of our grove,” he began, “the buzzpaths ran. Even the very oldest squirrel cannot remember a time when they were not there. . . .”
The squirrels crept toward him. Without planning to, they stood closer and closer together. Maybe you have been in a group of people, all listening together to a really good storyteller. Maybe it’s your Uncle Norel at Thanksgiving dinner. Everyone listens together and laughs together and it makes us feel closer. It makes us feel like a family.
Jed was a quiet squirrel. He wasn’t a performer. But he forgot himself and he spoke from his heart. He was so sure now that every squirrel would want to hear this story that they did. He told of the hawk, the new grove, the reddish squirrels, Chai and TsTs and the terrible cutting. He told how no one would listen, and how they came up with the idea of the Game. By the time he came to the end, which was the part right before he started telling the story, everyone felt they had been at his side through every twist and turn. That didn’t mean they all believed what they were hearing. They weren’t sure they were supposed to. Maybe it was just an entertainment.
“Now, see,” said Zeck, “that was so much better than the first time you told it. And you put parts about us in. That was a good idea.”
“I’ve chewed my finger-claws practically down to nubs just listening,” said a squirrel from the new grove. “If something like that was to actually happen, I don’t know what I would do!”
“But it did actually happen,” said Jutta. “That’s the whole point. It did happen. Didn’t it?”
All eyes turned to Jed. He looked at the sky. Through the nearly leafless trees, he could see that the sun was about to fall below the horizon. There would be light for a little while yet.
“Come see for yourselves,” he said. “I think there is just time.”
DOZENS of squirrels looked out from the sawed-off edge of the forest. They gazed down in disbelief at the casually tossed mounds of chopped-up tree. Scraps of what had once been homes now littered the earth. The smell of freshly cut wood was overpowering. Above the wreckage, the buzzpaths hung lonely and bare.
“Why do they do it?” asked Sherette.
“Unbelievable,” said Zeck.
Even the four friends who had known what was going to happen had trouble looking at it.
“So this,” said Jed to the squirrels he knew and loved, “is why we played the game. And this,” speaking now to the squirrels of the new grove, “is why we came to your grove.”
His words fell into the silence like pebbles dropped into a pond.
“I know there are a lot of us,” said TsTs. “But we did bring our own nuts. As many as we could.”
“And we can bring more tomorrow,” added Tchke. “I’m sure we can still find quite a lot.”
“We didn’t have much time,” said Chai. “We tried to move everyone to the closest place that was safe.”
“As soon as the trees grow back,” said TsTs, “we’ll get out of your way.”
“That will take a long time, I think,” said Jutta. In her whole life, the growth in any one tree had been barely noticeable.
“Yes,” she said. “I think that will take a very long time.”
“I . . . I suppose you’re right,” TsTs said quietly.
It was one of those moments where anything can happen. Something big or something small. Something kind or something harsh. It’s so uncertain that the first one to speak can tip it one way or the other.
“It must seem so rude,” said Tchke, “that we moved all at once into your home. Maybe tomorrow we can find somewhere else to go.”
What the second squirrel says is important, too. In this instance, the old man from the new grove said, “Let us take it one step at a time, my dear. You have brought nuts. We shall see what we shall see.” So saying, he turned and headed home.
Chebby was the third to speak. He said, “I think that ‘game’ idea was deuced clever. I tip my cap to the squirrel who thought of it. Getting squirrels to listen to reason is like getting a tree to drop its nuts at your front door.”
Hearing this, Jip perked up. He had already forgotten about the game.
“The game!” he cried out. “Who won the game?”
All of the squirrels laughed then and, as laughing is as good as stories and games (if not better) at bringing everyone together, the moment tipped them all toward togetherness.
“It’s late,” said one of the new-grove squirrels. “Let’s go home. All of us.”
And in twos and threes and fours, they began to make their way into the darkening woods. Only Jed and TsTs and Chai and Tchke remained. And Jip. He was still waiting for the answer to his question.
Jed, a curious expression on his face, studied the silly squirrel.
“You won, Jip,” he said.
And off Jip scrambled, hooting and hollering, “I won! I won the Game!”
“What did you tell him that for?” asked Chai. “We’ll never hear the end of it!”
“If you think about it,” said Jed, “if it wasn’t for Jip, we wouldn’t have known what was coming.”
“I guess that’s true,” admitted Chai. “I guess a lot of things might not have happened.”
“Well, I feel like I won, too,” said Tchke quietly. “At least, for the moment.”
“For the moment,” repeated TsTs. “What more can a squirrel ask?”
“Live for the moment,” said Jed. “But bury a lot of nuts.”
“We’re squirrels,” said Chai. “That goes without saying. That’s how we roll.”
He turned to Tchke and said, “Race you to the grove?”
“You’re on,” she answered.
And they were off.
“I guess we’d better go, too,” said Jed. He and TsTs had not yet moved from their perches. Twilight had deepened into night.
“I feel so strange,” said TsTs. “I don’t know whether to be really happy or really sad.”
“I know what you mean,” said Jed. “I know exactly what you mean.”
A sliver of moon came out from behind a passing cloud. Pale silvery light threw faint shadows from the new stumps onto the earth. And it lit up small spots of white, all along the edge of the new clearing. TsTs peered at the spots. They weren’t mushrooms, they weren’t in clumps. They were spaced out, at intervals. What were they? The scent of cut wood was strong, but another scent found her nose then, and she sniffed. She sniffed and she smiled.
“What are you looking at?” asked Jed. “Why are you smiling?”
“Come with me,” she said.
He followed her down into the clearing.
“Something smells really good,” he said, his nose twitching. “But I don’t know what it is. Do you smell it?”
“Yes,” said TsTs. “I do. Here, taste this.”
She handed him one of the white spots. A creamy su
bstance covered one side of it.
“Wow,” said Jed. “What is this?”
“It’s a message,” she said.
“A message?” asked Jed. “What does it say?”
“I don’t know, exactly,” admitted TsTs. “But I think it’s a nice message.”
“It’s a tasty message,” said Jed. “Are there any more?”
“There are,” she said.
They had a few of the messages, then made their way to the new grove. They went slowly. It had been a long, long day—a long few days, really—and they were exhausted. But mostly, they had so much to talk about that they weren’t in a hurry. It was unusual to be outside in the night. So unusual that they were unaware of the dangers. Owls, for example. But it may be that Fortune decided to give them a break this once. They marveled at how the stars shimmered through the autumn branches. The sliver of moon glimmered in the deep black sky. There were sounds they weren’t used to. It was interesting how, although they could not see very well, the scent of friends old and new led them surely and unmistakably along.
When they reached their nests, they had to laugh. The nest TsTs had made with the pups, now with their parents, was a shambles. And Jed had been too busy urging everyone else along to do more than toss an occasional twig or bit of fluff onto his own heap.
“We’ll do better tomorrow,” said Jed. “Will you be warm enough? I can give you some of my leaves.”
“I’ll be fine,” said TsTs. “I’m so tired, I could sleep under a single blade of grass.”
Jed laughed.
“Good night, my friend,” he said. “And—thank you.”
“It was nothing,” she said. Though they each knew it was not nothing. It was not nothing at all.
“Nuts to you, Jed,” she said. “See you in the morning.”
Jed stayed out for just a moment longer. He was tired, but still too wound up for sleep. He sat on the limb and considered the stars. The unbelievableness of all these recent events. The infinite variety of squirrels. His mind was so full.
He was beginning to shiver, though. And then something large rustled in the undergrowth below and sent him diving for cover. A reflex. Once inside, even the hastily made drey captured his own warmth. It grew pleasantly cozy, and Jed grew pleasantly drowsy. Before he drifted off, he sent a silent good night wish to TsTs. Imagine, he thought, having the courage to leave your grove to find a friend snatched by a hawk. That’s not nothing, he thought. That is definitely something.
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