THE PECULIAR SQUIRRELS OF JOHNS ISLAND (A LOW COUNTRY FABLE)

Tags

Animals, Fable, Fiction, Low Country, South Carolina

In the far far past a tribe of squirrels lived in the great forests of the north in what we now call North America. It was a warm time in the history of world, and they fed well on chestnuts, acorns, and pine nuts. They were fat prosperous squirrels. Somewhere along the line they decided that fatness was a sign of prosperity, and prosperity was a sign of superiority. Naturally the fattest squirrels became the leaders, and married the fattest wives, and had the fattest children. Oh they had enemies like owls, hawks, and eagles, but their gray fur blended into the forest nicely and made them hard to find. Also the thinnest squirrels were always the ones that had to do the most dangerous food gathering, and therefore were the ones most likely to be eaten. So over the long passage of years being fat was no longer something that happened after they were born if they ate too much. They were born to be fat. We call that genetics. Eventually they became so different from squirrels in other places that they became their own special kind of squirrel. We call that differentiation of species.

Then over the years the weather became colder. For a long long time the change was slow. Gradually some animals developed white fur or feathers so they could hide in the snow or hunt without being spotted. Those that did survived, but those that didn’t like the squirrels began to dwindle. Many animals moved southward where it was warmer, but not the squirrels. The oak trees and the chestnut trees began to die too, leaving mostly the cold hardy evergreens, which reduced the available food. Then somewhere in the world a narrow part of the ocean froze solid and completely blocked the great ocean current which brought much of the warmth to the north. Then things became much colder, and huge mountains of ice, called glaciers, began to push into the forest, knocking down even the tallest and strongest trees.

For ages the squirrels resisted moving, even as they grew fewer and food became ever harder to find. But now they had no choice but to move south and look for a new home. Over many generations they kept moving south, but other animals had moved there long before them, leaving no place for the squirrel tribe. Over time, as they traveled they changed. The fattest squirrels were no longer the most likely to survive, because they were slow and easy prey for the hunters. The squirrels were often near starvation, and oddly, although they all lost weight, their skin did not shrink. It just became kind of loose and flabby, like a big wrinkly overcoat. To tell the truth, bedraggled, starving, and wrinkled, they were not a pretty sight. They became known as the ugly squirrels, and were chased out of forest after forest.

Finally they came to the swamps and thick forests of the South Carolina low country, and they settled on Johns Island, one of the many barrier islands along the coast. That was not an ideal place for the squirrels to live because it was filled with mosquitoes and ticks  and snakes, and many other dangers. However there were lots and lots of rotting trees with old woodpecker holes that could be easily enlarged to make shelters. Anyway by that time the once-fat-squirrel-now-wrinkled-squirrel tribe was desperate for a home, and Johns Island had room for them.

Most of the other animals shunned the squirrels. However the equally ugly possums welcomed them. That is how a young male squirrel named Abrandadorenta, which in the classical fat squirrel language meant he who climbs trees quickly, became a close friend of a possum named Steve. The squirrels had lost all of their past grandeur except for their grandiose names. So they clung to those. Maybe their pride had supported them through all their troubles. Different things prop us up. However when it came to names, the local possums weren’t so highfalutin.

So one day up high in an old oak tree, Abrandadorenta hunted acorns while Steve hunted insects. Steve’s favorite food was ticks. There is no accounting for tastes. Suddenly a bobcat started climbing up the trunk, trapping them, a bobcat named Bob. All male bobcats are named Bob. That’s how they got the name. Bobcats liked to keep things simple — hunt, kill, eat. Abrandadorenta ran to the thin outer branches. Steve thought about playing dead, but playing dead high in a tree is not recommended. So he tried one of the other possum tricks. He started shaking all over and foaming at the mouth. Bob took one look at Steve and decided to go chase the squirrel. He’d never cared much for possum anyway. That gave Steve his chance to escape.

Unfortunately for Abrandadorenta, Bob was a very agile young bobcat, and thin branches or not, he kept working his way closer and closer. Finally there was no where else for Abrandorenta to go, and Bob was approaching striking distance. Although he was certain he would die from the fall, the brave squirrel leapt from his branch. As he fell he instinctively spread out his four legs. The wind caught his open flabby coat and he glided lower to the trunk of next tree and escaped. Once the rest of the tribe learned that trick, it greatly improved their ability to escape predators. From then on they flourished in their new home. Instead of the ugly squirrels, they became known as flying squirrels. A much nicer name don’t you think?

Moral: Not all gifts come gift wrapped, and sometimes they open themselves.

THE LEOPARD, THE TORTOISE, AND THE GAZELLE (AN ORIGINAL AFRICAN FABLE)

Tags

Africa, Animals, Fable

In Africa a long long time ago there were places where people had yet to come and animals ruled supreme. In one such place the chief of all the animals, the mokonsi, was the leopard. Some other animals were bigger and stronger like the elephants and hippos and crocodiles, but the animals considered the leopard the most dangerous and didn’t want to get on his bad side. No one feared the peaceful elephants, and the hippos and crocodiles were only dangerous in or near rivers and lakes. The leopard could climb trees, and see at night better than most of the other animals, moving quickly and quietly through the trees, and he was strong with long teeth and flashing claws. So the leopard ruled the deep forest.

Now the leopard was not content just to be the mokonsi of the deep forest. He claimed to rule the vast grassy plains on the borders of the forest as well. Most of the animals there, the antelopes, warthogs, jackals, and even the big strong buffalos feared the leopard and accepted him as the mokonsi. All but the gazelle and his wife. The gazelles were so fast and nimble that the leopard could never catch them, although he often tried to sneak up on them in the night. The female gazelle grew tired of being stalked by the leopard, so she decided to ask her old friend the tortoise for help.

This was no ordinary tortoise. She was called the mother of all tortoises because she was the eldest of all the tortoises living in the entire world. She was hundreds and hundreds of years old and her shell was as big as a very large house and even had bushes and grassses growing on top of it. Animals often walked right by her thinking she was just another hill. All the animals respected her for her wisdom, and some even claimed that she had secret magical powers. In fact she possessed no magic, if by that you mean something supernatural, but her shell did contain wonders, wonders called books and scrolls. Long ago the tortoises had learned to chew and pound reeds to make paper, and they’d learned to read and wright in tortoise fashion. Now their loosely bound books made with crude paper weren’t as fancy as our modern books, but it is what is written inside a book that counts. In fact the inside of her shell was really an enormous library containing all the tortoise wisdom of the ages, which was a lot because they live so long, are very observent, and do a lot of thinking in their quiet shells. It was considered an honor, almost a holy pilgrimage, for elderly tortoises to make the long slow journey to give her the book they had assembled over the course of their lives.

All that aside, to the lady gazelle the tortoise was just an old and treasured friend who lived nearby, and a very wise one. She told the tortoise about their problem and asked for her advice. Her friend replied that she would think about it and to come back in a week. During that week the tortoise read a lot and thought about the problem, paying special attention to the section of her library labeled psychology. When she had a plan that she thought would work, she told the gazelle what to do.

A few days later the leopard came slinking around and asked the lady gazelle where her husband was. While staying out of leaping range, she told him the tortoise was using her magic to send her husband up to the gods to ask them to kill the leopard. The leopard was furious and took off at a run to find the tortoise. As soon as he left the male gazelle came out of hiding and they both raced off and got there well before the leopard. When the leopard arrived he saw the head of the male gazelle on the ground covered in blood and the tortoise holding a bloody axe in her mouth.

“Is he dead?” The leopard asked.

“No,” she replied after setting down the axe. “This is how I use my magic to send someone to the gods to appeal for help. He wants to replace you as mokonsi.  I’ve done this countless times through the years. He will be fully restored shortly.”

The leopard padded around huffing and puffing. “Then you must do the same for me so that they can hear my side.”

The tortoise obliged. The lady gazelle came out of hiding and dug her husband out of the dirt and washed off the red berry juice. They thanked the tortoise. And for awhile peace reigned over the forest and the grassy plains. But sooner or later another mokonsi always comes along.

Moral: While the distant gods are often deaf to our appeals, the axes here on earth are rather sharp.

THE ELEPHANT AND THE SONGBIRD (AN ORIGINAL AFRICAN FABLE)

Tags

Africa, Animals, Fable, Humor, Modern Folktale

This fable was inspired by my puzzling out a few Congolese fables published in 1966 in Lingala, I think as a grammar school primer, by Pere Paul Lepoutre. The originals were rather cryptic authentic oral tradition folktales and bear almost no resemblance to my stories. My stories were written for an American audience, and the writing is entirely mine. However I did fall in love with the delightful anthropomorphic animal characters in those tales. The good father deserves a mention, as do the anonymous Congolese story tellers who kept their folktales and culture alive. Special thanks to Susannah Glover Black for her illustration.

Before the Sahara Desert was fully formed, when there were still vast grasslands and even a few rivers and lakes in what is now almost all desert, along the borderland between the jungle in the center of Africa and those grassy plains, lived two unusual friends, an elephant and a songbird. They were unusual friends because most animals, including people who are just another kind of animal, prefer the company of those who look and act like they do. That way they don’t have to learn new ways of thinking and behaving. Learning how to get along with and appreciate others who are different takes some effort, but it is always worth it.

Big and strong with a voice of thunder or a thousand trumpets all sounding at once, the elephant was a dull gray color, except when he covered himself with brown mud or red dust, which he liked to do when the sun was hot or now and again just for the fun of it. The songbird was mostly green up top, and mostly yellow on the bottom, and really quite pretty. So tiny compared to his friend, the songbird could crawl into the elephant’s trunk and tickle it with his feathers, which caused the elephant to sneeze him up high in the air. The songbird thought that was great fun, and the fall back down didn’t hurt at all, because of course the he could fly. The elephant loved listening to his friend sing. It put him in such a good mood that he didn’t mind the sneezing, at least until his trunk became red and sore, which happened sometimes if they played the game too long. This elephant had four wives, because that is the way of elephants, while the songbird had just one wife. The elephant’s wives got along well. He was careful to treat them all the same. Making a lady elephant angry can be downright dangerous, even for another elephant.

Everyday the two friends searched for food together. Although he was too small to fly high or far, the little bird could fly to the tops of trees and spot ripe berries and other fruit. Then the elephant would butt the trees to shake down fruit or rake berries with his long trunk. Above all the elephant loved the cinnamon flavored bark of certain thorn trees, a species of acacia tree. Whenever they found the right kind of acacias that were just the right size, the elephant would slice the bark with his tusks and peel it off with his trunk. Usually butting trees and raking vines didn’t hurt them, but peeling the bark killed the acacias. The bark from the older larger trees didn’t taste nearly as good to the elephant, so he left them alone. Therefore there were always seeds falling and new trees sprouting, but it took at least ten years for the trees to reach the size the elephant liked best. He ate them much faster than they grew. Soon acacias of the right size were very hard to find. The elephant could have saved some of them to eat later. That is called conservation. Elephants don’t know how to do that. Neither do some people.

They ate other things too. Their wives made foofoo for them everyday. Foofoo has many names and is made from different grains or roots in different places. It usually looks like a mound of soft jiggly bread. You eat it by tearing off a small piece with your fingers (after washing your hands) and dipping it into the stew. Our two friends didn’t have hands, but a handy trunk and tiny beak worked just fine. Regardless of what it is made from, it takes time and hard work to make foofoo. African wives clean roots and grain thoroughly. Some root pieces have to be soaked several times to remove harmful toxins (things that would make you sick). Then they spread them out to dry, watching to make sure no animals steal them. Then the wives use big sticks (pestles) and large wooden bowls (mortars) to pound the grain or roots into a fine flour. The wives often work together, pounding the sticks in turn, clapping their hands to keep time like a jump rope chant. When the flour is ready they slowly add water until they get the consistency they want. Then they cook it slowly in pots. The foofoo was always delicious, as well as the sauces and stews the wives made.

However, since they had it everyday, the two friends didn’t really appreciate it. One starry evening they ate their supper under a knobby old tree. As usual the foofoo and sauce were perfect, but there was no cinnamon flavored bark for the elephant’s dessert. The elephant turned to his little friend: “Tomorrow we’ll go to a far place on the edge of the grassy plain. Not many big trees grow there. It’s a perfect place to find acacias. “Fine,” replied the songbird, “but let’s take our wives so that they can make foofoo.” “No,” trumpeted the elephant, as he stomped around causing leaves and small branches to shake down from the tree. “I’m tired of bothering with wives! I need a vacation! We’ll have bark and berries and fruit. We can do without foofoo for a few days.” When the two friends had an argument, which wasn’t very often, the elephant usually got his way because he could shout so loud and stomp the ground so hard.

So the next morning they started off and walked all day until they reached a lovely spot with plenty of fruit and acacia trees of just the right size. Soon they gathered all they could eat. The fruit and acacia bark was tasty, but it would have tasted even better if they had had some foofoo too and maybe a nice sauce. The next day the fruit and bark didn’t taste quite as good. It was exactly the same as the day before. Their wives made many different sauces and stews. Also they missed their foofoo. They’d eaten foofoo all their lives, at every meal, and supper didn’t seem right without it. For us it would be like eating a sandwich without bread. Yuk! By the third day they were so tired of food without foofoo, they hardly ate anything. That night they dreamed about platters of foofoo.

In the morning the elephant decided to call their wives. He stomped around and bellowed as loud as he could, “Wives, oh wives!!! Come to us and bring some foofoo!” They waited all day, but the wives never came.  The village was too far away even for the elephant’s great voice to reach. That night they nibbled on some fruit, but they went to bed hungry for foofoo.

The next morning the songbird announced, “Today I’ll call our wives.” The elephant laughed, “If our wives can’t hear me, how can they possibly hear you?” “Nevertheless,” replied the little bird in his gentle way, “I have a right to try too.” “Oh go ahead,” said the elephant. “But don’t blame me if we go hungry again tonight.” They went a bit deeper into the forest until they found a very tall tree. The songbird flew to the first branch, then the next and the next, until he couldn’t see his friend or even the ground. When he finally reached the very top, he perched on a branch and sang his sweetest song.

Two African fish eagles, which closely resemble bald eagles, were flying by. With their keen hearing and even keener eyes, they heard and saw the little bird. This pair had mated recently and were carrying twigs to build a nest. The female eagle dropped down to the tree, and the male eagle followed her. The male thought that they should be on about their business, but they were newlyweds, and if his mate wanted to listen to a songbird, well he would go along, at least for a little while. Because the eagles were carrying twigs for a nest, the songbird sang about how much he missed his wife and their comfortable nest, which he hoped would soon be full of tiny blue eggs. When he finished, the female eagle had tears in her eyes. Then the songbird asked her to use her powerful wings to fly to their little village and ask their wives to come at once, bringing everything they needed to make foofoo. Of course the lady eagle agreed to help. We can only guess what the male eagle thought, but seeing the mist in his mate’s eyes, he wisely decided to keep his mouth shut. It was full of twigs anyway.

The songbird fluttered down and rejoined his friend. They waited all day. The elephant was certain that their wives couldn’t have heard his tiny friend. The elephant had barely heard something, not even enough to make out the words, and he’d been standing right at the bottom of the big tree. Just at sunset the wives arrived. The elephant’s jaw dropped open in amazement. They had even brought some foofoo wrapped in big banana leaves. It wasn’t as fresh as usual, but it still tasted great to the songbird and the elephant. They praised their wives and told them how much they missed them.

Later they sat out under the stars rubbing their full bellies from time to time. Finally the elephant said, “I still don’t understand how our wives heard you and not me.” The little bird laughed, “My friend you have legs like tree trunks and a voice of thunder, but I can sing, and I . . . I have wings!”