by Peter Brown
But the parade couldn’t last forever. As the sun went down, the other animals began drifting away, one by one, and when the parade finally arrived at the Nest, only the original members remained.
“Here we are,” said Mother Bear, helping Roz down into the garden. “Now, wasn’t that better than crawling all the way home?”
“Oh, yes, that was wonderful!” said the robot. “I cannot imagine a better ending to this day. Thank you very much.”
“Yeah, that was amazing!” squeaked the gosling. “My friends won’t believe me when I tell them I rode across the island on the back of a bear!”
“I’m glad you enjoyed yourselves!” Mother Bear smiled. “It’s the least I could do after all the trouble these two caused.” Her smile became a frown, and she glared at her cubs, who suddenly took great interest in a pebble on the ground.
It was late, and it had been a long, difficult day for everyone, so the bears said good-bye and headed back to their cave. Brightbill and Roz stood in the garden and watched their new friends lumber away. And then the gosling said, “Mama, do you think you’ll ever walk again?”
“I am not sure,” said the robot, “but I know who to ask for help. Now go get ready for bed.”
CHAPTER 48
THE NEW FOOT
Mr. Beaver squinted at Roz’s stump.
“I’ve never built a foot before.” He stroked his whiskers and muttered to himself. “There are really three problems to solve. The foot needs to grip the ground. And it needs to be durable. And then there’s the issue of fixing it to the leg. I might have to consult a few friends.”
“Will she ever walk again?” said Brightbill.
“What’s that?” Mr. Beaver was lost in thought. “Oh, not to worry. You just sit back and leave everything to me. I love a challenge!”
Mr. Beaver plunked into the pond, and returned a while later rolling a large section of a tree trunk. “Say hello to your new foot!” he said, slapping the wood with his tail.
“Hello, new foot,” said the robot.
“That’s the spirit! This beauty is from one of the hardest trees I ever chewed. I just need to make a few modifications.”
Mr. Beaver placed the piece of wood next to Roz. He squinted, repositioned the piece, and squinted some more. With his claws, he marked different spots on the wood. And then he put his big chompers to work. The beaver chewed and gnawed and carved up that piece of wood, turning it over and over in his paws.
Chitchat looked down from a branch and chattered through the quiet moments. “This reminds me of the time I saw a fox catch a lizard by the tail and somehow the lizard’s tail fell off and he got away and later I saw that the lizard got a new tail and now Roz is going to get a new foot and everything will be fine…”
The wooden foot took shape, and before long Mr. Beaver was standing beside a beautiful carving that resembled a boot. He tried to slide it over Roz’s stump, but the opening was too small. So he scraped out more wood until it was a perfect fit.
“Very good,” he said, spitting out a wood chip. “My friends should be arriving any minute with the next few things we’ll need. And there they are now! I’d like you all to meet Bumpkin, Lumpkin, and Rumpkin. But I call them the Fuzzy Bandits.”
Three fat raccoons shuffled into the garden, dragging a tangle of vines behind them.
“Good day,” said Bumpkin.
“Good day,” said Lumpkin.
“Good day,” said Rumpkin.
You might already know this, reader, but raccoons have very nimble hands. And the Fuzzy Bandits used theirs to skillfully tie those vines around the robot’s leg and around her new foot. The vines caught nicely on all the dings and dents and scrapes. Once they were tied good and tight, Mr. Beaver threw back his head and hollered, “Trunktap! We could use your assistance!”
There was silence.
And then three quick taps echoed down from the forest canopy.
“Ah, that’ll be him,” said Mr. Beaver, smiling.
A very handsome woodpecker swooped into the garden. “You called?” came the woodpecker’s musical voice.
“Indeed I did! Everyone, this is my wood-pecking pal, Trunktap. Now, Trunky, we need some tree resin, the really sticky stuff. Can you help us out?”
“Of course I can!” said the woodpecker. “You’ve got a perfect pine right here!”
Trunktap hopped over to a crusty old pine tree and pecked a few deep holes in the bark. Thick, syrupy resin began oozing down the trunk. Mr. Beaver scooped up handfuls of the resin and smeared it all over the wooden foot and the vines until everything was glistening with stickiness. And when the resin dried a short time later, Roz’s foot was finished.
“This is wonderful!” said the robot as she strolled around her garden. “I am as good as new!”
Mr. Beaver and Trunktap and the Fuzzy Bandits went away feeling pretty happy with themselves. They’d done a very nice thing. But it was the first wooden foot any of them had ever made. And within a week the vines were coming undone and the foot was sliding loose. So they returned, determined to get it right. They found even harder wood and even tougher vines. They experimented with resin, heating it by the fire, letting it boil and thicken, until it became an indestructible glue. They kept tinkering with their design until, finally, Roz had herself a wooden foot that she could rely on.
“Huzzah!” Mr. Beaver rapped his knuckles on the new-and-improved creation. “I knew we’d get it right.”
Roz moved slower than before, and she had a slight limp, but she was back to her old self again, and that was a relief to everyone, especially Brightbill.
CHAPTER 49
THE FLIER
With coaching from his mother, Brightbill was becoming a truly exceptional flier. He wasn’t the biggest or the strongest, but he was the smartest. You see, he and his mother had started studying the flying techniques of other birds. They’d sit for hours and watch how hawks and owls and sparrows and vultures moved through the air. Then they’d go up to the grassy ridge and Brightbill would practice what he’d learned. Soon, he was diving and swooping and darting and soaring around the island. The adult geese frowned at his flying tricks, but the goslings thought he was amazing.
Each morning, a gaggle of them would wait on the water for Brightbill to lead them into the sky. And then a few hours later he’d return home to Roz, shaking his tail feathers and honking about his latest airborne adventures.
“Mama! The other goslings didn’t know that warm air rises. So I found an updraft and we spent the afternoon circling around and around and hardly flapped our wings at all!”
“Mama! Did you see that lightning storm today? We knew there was trouble when the wind started blowing from the north, so we flew down to some shrubs and waited for the storm to pass.”
“Mama! We just tried to fly in formation! We all took turns at the point, but everyone liked following me the best, so I led most of the time.”
CHAPTER 50
THE BUTTON
Brightbill was thinking about the small button on the back of his mother’s head. His mother was thinking about it too. They couldn’t stop wondering what would happen if the button were pressed. And one day, they decided it was time to find out.
Roz sat on the floor of the Nest. Her son nervously stood on a stone behind her.
“I am ready when you are,” said the robot.
“Okay,” said the gosling. “Here we go.”
Brightbill took a deep breath.
Click.
Roz’s body relaxed.
Her quiet whirring slowly stopped.
Her eyes faded to black.
“Mama, can you hear me?”
There was no answer. Brightbill waddled around and looked at his mother’s face. Her strange spark of life had gone out. The gosling had never felt more alone.
He was ready to switch her back on. But what if she didn’t wake up? What if she woke up different? The gosling was afraid to press the button, and he was afraid not to press
the button.
Brightbill took a deep breath.
Click.
Roz’s body tensed.
Her quiet whirring slowly started.
Her eyes began to glow.
“Mama, can you hear me?”
“Hello, I am ROZZUM unit 7134, but you may call me Roz.” The robot spoke these words automatically, in a language Brightbill didn’t understand. His little heart raced as his worst fears seemed to be coming true. But a moment later, her familiar voice returned, and the robot said in the language of the animals, “Hello, son. How long was I out? It seemed like only an instant to me.”
“You were out for a few minutes,” said the gosling as he hugged his mother. “But it seemed like forever to me.”
CHAPTER 51
THE AUTUMN
The days were getting shorter. The air was getting crisper. And one morning, Roz walked out to find a layer of frost on the garden. Autumn had come to the island.
The tree leaves, which had been green for the robot’s entire life, turned yellow and orange and red. Then they let go of their branches and floated down to the ground, and the forest gradually filled with the sounds of creatures scurrying through dead leaves. Tree nuts were also falling, thunking onto roots and rocks and occasionally clanging off the robot. The smell of flowers faded as blossoms withered. All the rich scents and colors of the island were draining away.
The animals were also changing. Furry animals were growing more fur. Feathery animals were growing more feathers. Scaly animals were starting to look for new homes.
“Yurp. It’s cooling off,” croaked one frog to another. “Before long it’ll be time for sleeping.”
“Yurp. I’d better start looking for a good hole,” croaked the second frog. “Have you found one yet?”
“Nah,” croaked the first frog. “I’ll look for a hole next week. For now, I’m going to enjoy the warm sunlight while it lasts. Yurp.”
Many of the island animals were already thinking about their winter hibernation. Frogs, bees, snakes, and even bears would soon disappear and spend the next few months resting out of sight.
And then there were the birds. Some birds, like owls and woodpeckers, would spend the winter nesting and eating the island’s few remaining edibles. But the migratory birds were preparing for the long journey south to their warm wintering grounds. And among the birds destined to leave were the geese.
CHAPTER 52
THE FLOCK
Brightbill slowly waddled into the Nest. He had a confused look on his face.
“Mama? The other goslings said that we have to leave the island soon, and we won’t return for months and months. Is that true?”
“That is true,” said Roz. “You know that geese migrate south for the winter.”
“Will you migrate with us?” said Brightbill.
“I cannot fly or swim, so I will spend the winter here on the island.”
“Can I stay with you?”
“I do not think that is a good idea. I think you should migrate with the flock.”
“How long will the migration take?” said Brightbill. “Where will we fly? When will we come home?”
“I do not know,” said Roz. “Let us go ask the others.”
And so the robot and the gosling walked around the pond, to where Loudwing and her friends were chatting. “Hello, everyone,” said Roz. “Brightbill has some questions about the flock’s upcoming winter migration.”
“And we’d be happy to answer them!” said Loudwing. “What would you like to know, little one?”
“How long will the migration take?” said Brightbill. “Where will we fly? When will we come home?”
“It’ll take us a couple of weeks to fly south,” said Loudwing, “depending on the weather.”
“We’ll join other flocks at a beautiful lake in the middle of a great, sprawling field,” said another goose.
“And we’ll come back to the island after four or five months,” said someone else, “depending on the weather.”
As they walked back to the Nest, Brightbill said to his mother, “Lately I’ve been feeling this strong urge to fly. Not just around the pond or the island, but to go on a long flight. A journey.”
“Those are your instincts,” said the robot. “All animals have instincts. They help you survive.”
“Do you have instincts?” said the gosling.
“I do have instincts. They help me survive also.”
“My instincts are definitely telling me to fly south for the winter,” said Brightbill. “I just wish you could join us. I’m going to worry about you while I’m away.”
“Do not worry. I will be fine,” said Roz. “How bad could winter be?”
CHAPTER 53
THE MIGRATION
It was the night before the migration, and Brightbill was sleeping fitfully. Roz watched him toss and turn until he finally crawled up into her arms, and she rocked him to sleep, just like the old days.
Early the next morning, Brightbill waddled outside and looked at the pond. The water was perfectly still. A few lazy clouds drifted above. Geese were already gathering by the beach. And then tiny claws scampered down from the treetops.
“So today’s the day huh?” said Chitchat, perched on a branch. “You’re going to see so many new things and meet so many new animals and if there are any squirrels at your wintering grounds please tell them that Chitchat says hello!”
“Today is the day,” said Brightbill. “The flock will be leaving soon.”
“Are you excited or nervous or scared?”
“I’m all of those things.”
The squirrel whispered, “Well don’t worry about your mother I’ll look after her so you know she’ll be perfectly fine.”
Brightbill smiled.
“I am afraid it is time to go,” said Roz as she stepped out of the Nest.
“Okay, Mama,” said the gosling. “See you in the spring, Chitchat!”
“Have a nice migration Brightbill!” The squirrel scampered back into the treetops. “Come home with lots of exciting stories but not too exciting because I don’t want anything scary to happen to you good-bye!”
The geese were honking with excitement and hustling around as they made their final preparations. Several of the fathers huddled together, discussing their flight plans, while the mothers took a head count.
“There you are, Brightbill!” Loudwing honked from the middle of the crowd. “We’re just about to begin!”
“May I have your attention, please!” said the biggest goose. “As most of you know, my name is Longneck, and I’ll be leading this year’s migration. I’m asking everyone to please join your families for takeoff. Once we’re all airborne, each family will take its position in our V formation, and we’ll start the first leg of our journey. Are there any questions?”
“I have a question,” came a booming voice. “My son will not have any family with him. Where does he fit into the formation?”
Everyone turned to Longneck.
“He can fly with me,” said the big goose. “I hear Brightbill is a very clever flier—I could use his help at the point.”
A moment later, the geese began flapping and honking and making their way into the air. A cloud of feathers floated down around the robot and her son.
“You are not a gosling anymore,” said Roz. “I am proud of the fine young goose you have become.”
Brightbill fluttered up to his mother’s shoulder.
“Thanks, Mama.” The young goose wiped his eyes. “Is this where we say good-bye?”
“This is where we say good-bye for now. Spring will soon be here, and we will be together again.”
“I’m going to miss you,” said Brightbill as he nuzzled his mother.
“I am going to miss you too,” said Roz as she nuzzled her son.
The goose took a deep breath. Then he shook his tail feathers, flapped his wings, and joined the flock.
At first, the geese flew in a disorganized jumble. But each go
ose slowly drifted into position until the flock formed a wobbly V. At the lead was Longneck, and behind his left wing was Brightbill. They circled in the sky until the V pointed south, and then the geese began their long migration. Roz climbed to the top of a tree and watched as the flock slowly faded into the horizon.
CHAPTER 54
THE WINTER
The island was quiet. The migratory birds had all left, the hibernators were asleep, and everyone else had begun their simple winter routines. Everyone but Roz. Now that she was alone, our robot didn’t know what to do with herself. She stood in her gray garden and watched a sheet of ice slowly form on the pond. Sometimes she could hear her good friends the beavers going about their business beneath the ice, and she wondered when she would see them again.
Roz stood there until snowflakes started drifting down from the sky. The flakes swirled in the breeze and slowly piled up on the ground and on the trees and on the robot. So she crouched into the Nest, slid the stone door behind her, and sat in darkness.
Hours, and days, and weeks went by without the robot moving. She had no need to move; she felt perfectly safe in the Nest. And so, in her own way, the robot hibernated.
Roz’s body relaxed.
Her quiet whirring slowly stopped.
Her eyes faded to black.
She probably could have spent centuries like that, hibernating in total darkness. But the robot’s hibernation was suddenly interrupted when a shaft of sunlight fell upon her face and carried energy back to her empty battery.
Roz’s body tensed.
Her quiet whirring slowly started.
Her eyes began to glow.
“Hello, I am ROZZUM unit 7134, but you may call me Roz,” the robot said automatically.
