I drowsily woke up to the voice of my sister, Emma, instructing me to wake up. I lifted one of my heavy eyelids and saw that my bouncy sister was hovering over me, fully dressed and ready for the day. She held two buckets in one hand, and in another was a stack of clothes for me. In the back of my head, I vaguely wondered what my sister was doing, bursting energetically into my bedroom at six o’clock on a vacation. Suddenly, something clicked. As I slowly crept out of my warm and comfortable bed, I remembered that every morning our family vacationed to Florida, my sister and I had a tradition of running out to the beach to see the beautiful early morning sunrise. The thought of this tradition fully awakened me, and I carelessly threw on my clothes, grabbed a couple of light windbreakers, and took the extra bucket from my sister. Emma and I dashed out the condo door, sprinted down three flights of steps, and then finally arrived at the wooden boardwalk that led to the beach. We skipped over it eagerly, and then plopped ourselves down on the cool, soothing sand, only a few feet away from the receding tide. Emma and I had made it just in time. As we faced the vast ocean and gazed out into the deep blue sky, the new sun was just becoming visible. The sky changed into a dazzling orange hue, and splotches of pink, yellow, and blue were overhead. I watched in amazement and was awed at the natural beauty of the Earth. After the sky had reached a pastel blue color, my sister and I decided to stroll along the shoreline. We each held a blue bucket that was empty at the moment, but would soon fill up with unique shells and smooth sand dollars. During our ten-minute walk, Emma and I were too overcome with the beauty of the scene to say anything to each other. Just as we were about to turn back, something caught my interest. Barely fifteen feet away from the coast was a sandbar which was clustered with a large number of seagulls. The seagulls appeared to be circled around some inanimate object. Each gull was screeching at the top of its lungs. Although I had seen many seagulls before, I had never seen anything quite like this. I suggested to my sister that we discover what the commotion was all about. We waded out to the small sandbar. As I got closer to the rambunctious birds, I noticed that they were pecking at little brownish things. Emma ran to the cluster of gulls, and a few of the birds decided to leave, but most remained. Now I could clearly make out what the birds were fighting over. Ten baby loggerhead sea turtles were helplessly sprawled on the wet sand. The seagulls’ sharp beaks were pecking at them angrily, and a couple of the turtles were even dangling from the gulls’ mouths. I sympathized with the powerless little turtles who were struggling to survive. I wanted to help them somehow, but I couldn’t think of a way. I had tried yelling at the gulls, but they wouldn’t budge. Instead, they squawked back at us, as if they were laughing at our pitiful attempts to save the turtles. I sympathized with the powerless little turtles who were struggling to survive After five painful minutes of furrowed eyebrows, I finally decided to run through the huddle of seagulls, despite my fear of the birds, and try to scare at least half of them away. I recounted my plan to myself over and over, and came to the conclusion that it was the best plan I had. I took a deep breath, and trying not to think about the needle-sharp beaks of the gulls, ran through the circle of screeching birds. Several flustered gulls retreated into the sky, but a good portion of them stayed rooted to the sand. I decided to take another shot at it, remembering the saying, “Failure only occurs if you don’t try again.” Keeping this quote in mind, I attempted again, and only a few of the gulls remained. I knew I was getting closer to my objective. With Emma’s help on my third shot, we were finally successful. My sister and I hurried over to the remaining baby turtles, which were still struggling on their backs in the sand, confused by what had just happened to them. I was hesitant about moving any of them, since I knew that loggerheads were a threatened species. I also remembered that I had read that sea turtles had to make the journey to the ocean by themselves, so they could recognize their native land when returning from the sea to mate. Anyway, I knew that if we just placed them back in the ocean, the movement of the tide would be sure to trap the turtles back on the sandbar. Emma and I knew that we had to make a move, or else the turtles’ chance of survival would diminish to almost nothing when the seagulls returned. After brainstorming together, we came up with a reliable plan. Emma would run up to our condo to fetch our dad, who would call the Wildlife Society. This way we figured that the turtles would be safe. I waded back to the beach and kept a close watch on the sandbar, watching for any signs of high tide. I stretched out on the warm sand and waited for the return of my sister. As I was about to shut my eyes, I felt something small scuttle over my arm. Thinking it was a crab, I jumped up in surprise. I looked down and saw a little brownish creature. I peered closer at it and saw that it was another baby sea turtle, eagerly crawling toward the blue ocean. I looked around in the sand and saw several more sea turtles, also on
Animals
Samantha and the Stag
A white tail bobbed in the bushes and Samantha’s ice-skate skidded to a messy stop. The girl made no sudden moves. Slowly, she lifted her head and took a cautious step towards the edge of the pond, which lay in the center of the pasture. The animal before her, a cinnamon-colored stag, stood motionless. She wished to gape openly, to move towards him and stroke his flawless coat, fondle his large ears, touch his immense antlers and follow him wherever he would lead her. She felt somehow connected to the creature, and wanted to be nearer to him. Instead, for fear of frightening the animal, she tore her gaze from his form and advanced another step, gliding smoothly towards the edge of the ice. The deer looked as though he was preparing to bound away, but he could not seem to decide whether or not to stay or go. He stood, frozen for a few more moments of indecision, swaying one way as if to say “I will leave,” and the other way as if to say “I will go.” Samantha, trying to avoid looking at the creature and afraid to move any further in his direction, clicked the blade of her ice-skate on the ice. The deer turned his delicate head and shook his antlers vigorously at her. The one small crime she had committed, the clicking of her ice-skate blade, had led him to a decision. He pivoted towards the woods, springing over the field’s rear gate. Trotting a few graceful, prancing steps, he halted and swung around to face her, willing her towards him, pawing the ground for emphasis. She knew she was to go with him, follow him. He wanted to take her somewhere, and the connection she felt to him was strong. She ripped her focus away, briefly reminding the panicking part of her, the part of her that said the buck would not stay, that she would return soon. If she was wrong, the deer would have fled by the time she got back and she could forget she had ever seen him, or even pretend he had been a figment of her infamous wild imagination. She knew she was to go with him, follow him Purposefully, she strode up to the fence on the opposite edge of the pond enclosure, climbing over it and stepping into her paddock. A spotted pony with mischief in his eyes stared at her plaintively. He was looking for food or a treat and saw no reason he should be subtle about his begging. Sam ignored him and gathered a bridle and riding hat off hooks in the small stable. She put the bridle on, fastening the straps and buckles with the ease of many years of practice. Then she fed the pony a sugar cube from her slushy pocket. He eyed the sugar analytically, and extracted it from her palm. Apparently he did not think highly of wet sugar. Carefully, she walked him to the place she had last seen the stag. There he was, holding his head gallantly, as if posing for a photograph he had waited ages to have taken. Sam got as close as she dared and swiftly mounted her pony. This was enough to startle the buck and off he dashed, leaving a trail behind him as he made his way through the stiff grasses of winter. Sam felt an urge she could not control. She had to follow him! The connection she felt to the animal strained, and, with a wave of her arms, Samantha and her pony were chasing after him. They hightailed it over the field fence and raced across the next pasture, following the trail the stag left. Astonishingly, the buck allowed the pair to get increasingly closer. Soon they were inching up alongside him, getting nearer every second. Finally, when they were running nose to nose, the deer distanced himself slightly. Samantha took the hint. The deer did want his own margin of personal space, but did want them to follow him. Sam understood and continued along peaceably behind him. She had a creeping sensation, however, that the comfortable pace wouldn’t last long. Soon enough, she found her unpleasant assumption to be true. She, the pony, and the buck were headed directly for a frozen stream. This posed great danger for the threesome. The stream could not be trusted with their weight! Obviously the deer did not see it, and even with much patience and an enormous amount of coaxing, her pony refused to slow. She wanted to explain the danger, but couldn’t! Her pony was dipping into a peril he could not see, a peril he could not even acknowledge, as he didn’t know it was there! In a panic, Sam yanked on the reins, snapping them from side to side. With her pony’s attention captured, she leaned back and dragged her reins above her head, lifting her pony into a half-rear; the only sensible way to help him recover his footing and keep him out of trouble. The buck, seeing the stream only as he came upon it, made a scrambling effort to stop but failed. His front legs slid off the bank and onto the surface that was the frozen creek. His haunches groped through the snow, searching for a grip, but, over all of the protests of the rest of his body, momentum slid his rear onto the ice as well. Now he had to muster all his strength and any balance he possessed to stand. With a strangling grunt and a heave he was on all fours once more. Before Sam could take note of what was happening, the stag was racing along the creek. With much splaying of his legs and many close calls, the buck made his way along the stream, somehow managing to stay upright. The girl, astonished at these proceedings, sprang into action. She snapped her reins from left to right and achieved a quicker pace. The clever
Fort Cuniculus
Brumm was woken by the distant thumping sound of the sentry’s back paws. He was lying in a small, warm chamber with his twin brother, Trumm. He lifted one of his ears and listened more closely to the sound. It wasn’t urgent, just the thump that told the residents of Fort Cuniculus that the sun was two ear-lengths from the horizon. Brumm yawned widely and hopped out into one of the fort’s many corridors. The main residents of Fort Cuniculus were rabbits, most of whom were still sleeping, but the temporary residents, hares, were up and about, mainly for an early meal. Hares were always hungry. Brumm chuckled to himself and hopped out of the underground area into the open rabbit city. To the left of his tunnel was the main square at the base of the hill, but he hopped the opposite way, towards some dusty grass clumps. Suddenly another rabbit hopped out to him. “Drumthro wants to talk to you. Come on.” Brumm hopped after the rabbit, wondering why the leader of Fort Cuniculus wanted to talk to a regular soldier. The large, muscly rabbit was sitting in a large chamber at the end of Fort Cuniculus’s main tunnel. “I have noticed your fighting talent and bravery in the last skirmish with the foxes. You are very resourceful and smart. Also, you have a good sense of humor. Because of this I have made you a senior officer.” Brumm could not believe his ears. The first thing he managed to say was, “Really?” but then he composed himself and said, “Thank you, sir. Do you want me to do anything for you, sir?” Just then the Rose appeared with her rosellas “Yes, I do. One of our patrols thought he saw fox tracks west of here. I have a feeling they are up to something, and by the ear, if foxes are up to something, they are always up to no good. Get some soldiers and find the rosellas. Ask them to scout the area all around Fort Cuniculus, especially to the west. Report straight to me. Off you go.” Soon Brumm with five soldiers was on another hill, opposite the fort. Normally this was the resting and feeding place of the rosellas and their queen, Rose. She wasn’t there, so Brumm decided to wait for her. Suddenly a sound resembling a small earthquake broke the midsummer morning. Two kangaroos jumped up to the fort and started jumping on one of the tunnels, making it collapse. One of the kangaroos shouted out, “Hah, there goes one of your precious tunnels. But that is only the start of our revenge. You invaders eating our Australian grass is bad enough, but you eat the roots too! You will turn the whole of Australia into a dust bowl!” And the kangaroos jumped off. Brumm reminiscently chewed a grass shoot together with root and snorted. Honestly, patriots. There were hundreds of tunnels in the fort; it would take the kangaroos all year to block them all up. Just then the Rose appeared with her rosellas. They were a jolly lot, always ready to help the rabbits and even readier to play a practical joke on them. Brumm explained their predicament to Rose, the “most beautiful and bright rosella to fly the skies,” according to her mate, Rosso. She immediately sent a couple of rosellas to scout around and invited the rabbits to a lunch of berries in nectar, seed, grass and flower salad and a rosella speciality, nut crunch. The news spoiled their appetites immediately—a very large army of foxes, gathered from the surrounding countryside for miles around, about thirty animals, was advancing on the rabbits and kangaroos. Brumm refused Rose’s tea menu and went straight to the fort. He told the news to Drumthro, who looked really worried. “With the kangaroo threat, although not very dangerous but still looming, and the food stocks down low, we really need help. Listen, do a large sweep of the area and try to find some other animals to help us. Take Brigade 4, you are now officially its commander.” Drumthro handed a badge with a tiny emerald on it and the number 4 to Brumm. * * * At exactly five ear-lengths the fourth brigade departed from the fort. They set off north. Soon they heard a wailing and then a voice, “Help, please help, someone! I’m stuck! Ah000000000!” Brumm told the brigade to wait and went ahead with a reconnaissance party. The noise was coming from a deep pit beneath a tree. In the pit was a large dingo. He had clearly fallen in and got stuck in the mud that collected at the bottom. Brumm sized up the situation and then called out to the dingo, “Don’t move. We’ll get you out if you promise not to harm us.” “OK, I promise, but hurry!” The efficient rabbit called the brigade to him and organized one party to dig a tunnel to the bottom of the pit, and another to dig out the steep walls closest to the dingo and the supposed tunnel exit. Soon the dingo was in the tunnel, and then on the ground. He bowed slightly to Brumm and said, “I am the king of all the dingo packs here. I fell into the pit when chasing foxes. My pack had gone the other way and did not hear me. If you had not gotten me out of there, I would have perished. How could I ever repay you?” “Firstly, you could agree on a truce between yourself and Fort Cuniculus. The dingoes will never harm any hare or rabbit from the fort. And secondly, you said you have a pack. How big is it? We need an army to defeat the foxes attacking us, and a reliable defense against the kangaroos.” “I agree to the truce. My dingoes will never harm any creature from your fort. About my pack, we are twenty in number and sworn enemies of
