Tales From The Glades Of Ballymore

by Bob Brooks

  He guessed there was about a foot of snow, and there would probably be a bit more before it ended. It was not yet time to venture out, but it was time for a breakfast of hot oatmeal. He shivered a bit and went inside.

  The snow stopped falling by midday, and Bartholomew took a flight around the pond. It had been many years since Ballymore had experienced that much snow. What an incredible sight! However, it also meant that the snow was in some places where it wasn’t wanted. Some animals were already out and clearing a path. He noticed that the cottages on the west had a lot more snow blown up against their doors. Some animals would have trouble getting out.

  The swans and ducks were circling the island, and he flew to them. Within minutes he had several volunteers. The group first went to the moles’ front door on the west. Using their wings, they were able to flap away much of the snow. Luckily, it had been light and fluffy. The weasels lived next door. Not surprisingly, they were taking care of the snow themselves. The last cottage that needed some clearing was Petunia Porcupine’s. It took them about ten minutes to open a path to her door. She was very appreciative and invited them in for tea and cookies.

  The next task would be to create a path around the pond. That wouldn’t be easy, and Bartholomew was considering options. He didn’t know it then, but the problem was already being taken care of by Sam Snapping Turtle.

  Sam had gotten up early, also. He was fascinated by the winter scene. He plowed through the snow from his front door to the pond. The six inches covering the ground had no effect upon him. Sam was the largest and strongest animal in Ballymore. He pushed the snow aside and flattened it with ease. When he got to the pond, he immediately saw that a path was needed around the pond. He decided that he would do it himself. He began walking north. Even though it wasn’t difficult for him to move through the snow, it would still take a long time to go around the whole pond.

  After Petunia Porcupine’s tea and cookies, Bartholomew flew around again. It didn’t take him long to notice Sam. The big turtle was nearing the bluebirds’ treehouse, and Bartholomew landed in front of him.

  “Good morning. You have taken on a very big task. Thank you.”

  “Hello, Bartholomew,” said Sam. “Yes, I guess it is, but I love the snow, and I’ve never seen so much.”

  “Neither have I and I’m much older than you.”

  “I hope I can walk all around the whole pond before it gets dark.”

  “I think that is a bit too ambitious to finish today. I will arrange for you to stay at Petunia Porcupine’s tonight. What you are doing is fantastic. I’m not sure what we would have done if you weren’t here,” said Bartholomew.

  “Thank you.”

  “I’ll go talk to Petunia. Don’t rush,” advised the owl.

  “I won’t. Goodbye, Bartholomew.”

  Bartholomew then flew to the bluebirds’ treehouse and asked them to inform everyone about what Sam was doing. Sam continued his plowing and was warmly greeted by everyone as he passed their cottage. The trek became more difficult as the snow got deeper on the west side, but he made it to Petunia’s by late afternoon. She knew he was coming and had prepared a hot dinner for him. He was pretty tired, so he retired right after dinner.

  He continued plowing early the next morning. Again, everyone was waiting to greet him as he passed. Frequently, there was the offer of a hot tea or cookie. The path was finished by early afternoon, and off he went to bed. Ballymore was now reconnected thanks to Sam.

  Later that day, the mole kids were having great fun playing in the snow, and they decided to build a snowman. It didn’t take long for their neighbors, the weasels, to notice. Wilde and Wilder were in a mischievous mood again. The moles and their snowman looked like great targets.

  Wilder looked at Wilde, and they grinned.

  “Let’s do it,” said Wilde.

  The first barrage of snowballs caught the moles by surprise. The weasels had a lot of practice hurling nuts and were quite accurate with their snowball throws. The moles were sent tumbling. Thus began the Great Ballymore Snowball Fight of 1892.

  The moles were no match for the weasels, but they tried. They did manage to land a few hits but got the worst of it by far. They were almost ready to surrender when a large snowball splattered on the back of Wilder’s head. It knocked off his beret. He wheeled around in surprise. Dr. Brigit and Morris Muskrat had come from the north in support of the moles. Now, it was a more even fight.

  The moles cheered the much needed reinforcements. Now, the weasels concentrated their firepower on the newcomers and virtually ignored the moles. Brigit and Morris had the protection of a large tree and were much more difficult targets.

  As Wilde and Wilder were battling the northern forces, more reinforcements arrived from the south. Robbie, Rachel and Rain Rabbit joined the moles, and now, the weasels were taking significant hits from two sides. It was a challenge, but they enjoyed challenges.

  Wilde yelled, “Let’s use our divide and conquer strategy.”

  That meant they would concentrate their snowballs on one of the “enemy”. They chose Dr. Brigit. Within a one minute period, she must have been hit ten times and was pummeled backward into the snow. As she got up to clean herself off, several more snowballs knocked her down again. With that, she gave up and retreated.

  That was a significant loss for the amateur army, but she was quickly replaced by Birk and Birch Beaver. They were happy to join the battle next to Morris.

  The weasels were now being driven backward towards their cottage.

  “We could use some reinforcements ourselves,” said Wilder.

  Wilde shook his head in agreement. Just then Finn Frog appeared. He broke through the “enemy” line of rabbits and moles and hopped over to support of his friends. Wilder welcomed him with a hug. Finn turned out to be a pretty good snowball thrower, and the battle line shifted back and forth.

  The yelping and yapping from the fight could be heard all across Ballymore and attracted much attention. Several animals came to watch including the ducks and swans. They decided not to join in and sat a safe distance away on the pond. It soon became obvious that they favored the amateur army against the professional weasels.

  Bartholomew watched from a nearby tree and, not surprisingly, remained neutral.

  The battle raged on. Fighters on both sides were getting tired when incoming air support decided the outcome. Coming over the pond in a straight line was the entire Bluebird family. Everyone saw them. Which side would they join?

  They flew over the scene, circled and landed on the weasels’ roof. They immediately began making snowballs. Branna, Brie, and Britt each picked up a snowball and took off. Within seconds the snowballs found their targets — Wilde, Wilder, and Finn.

  Now, the aggressors were being attacked from the north, the south, and from above. That demoralized them and encouraged the amateur army which then doubled its efforts.

  It was obvious to all observers that the end was near. The decisive blow was struck by Branna Bluebird. She picked up a large snowball and decided upon a direct attack. She headed straight for the back of Finn’s head. He never saw it coming! The large snowball and she made a direct hit. Splat! Finn was knocked down and buried under the snow. Branna quickly fluttered back up to the roof to reload.

  Finn was dazed as Wilder pulled him out of the snow and brushed him off. A new barrage from the rabbits knocked them both down again.

  As he got up, Wilder yelled, “We need a new strategy!”

  Wilde yelled back, “I think it’s time for a strategic withdrawal.”

  The three animals backed towards the door of the cottage and scampered quickly through it to safety.

  The Great Ballymore Snowball Fight of 1892 had come to an end. A resounding cheer went up from the amateur army and most of the audience. Everyone gathered in front of the weasels’ cottage and congratulated themselves. Then, even quicker than the army had formed, it broke up and disappeared.

  As Robbie Rabbit was leaving,
he yelled back at the cottage, “You’ve been Weaseled!”

  Bartholomew was amused by the snowball fight and found it gratifying how the animals joined together to finally win one against the weasels. It was all in good fun.

  He looked up at the sky. Since Grenby was hibernating, he found he was observing the weather more than usual. Frequently, after a snow, it turned clear and colder. That didn’t happen this time. It had remained cloudy, and the temperature seemed slightly warmer (or less cold). Hmmm.

  The following morning it began to sleet. The sleet rat-tat-tatted off of the cottage windows. After a couple hours of the noise, the sleet changed to a cold light rain. Since the temperature was still below freezing, the rain froze, and a slippery, shiny glaze quickly covered everything.

  The chipmunk kids thought it looked like fun and went outside to play, but it was too slippery, and that idea was soon given up. Slowly they managed to crawl back indoors. A little later, Petunia Porcupine needed some water for baking. Without thinking about the ice, she walked out to the water pump. She immediately slipped, and before she knew it, she slid all of the way down to the pond. She wasn’t hurt, but it took a while for her to crawl back in her cottage, without any water.

  The light freezing rain continued throughout the day, and the layer of ice covering Ballymore grew thicker. Tree branches began to bend down under the weight.

  As darkness fell, the rain stopped, and all was quiet. The clouds cleared, and a crescent moon rose. Bartholomew gazed out his window at a magical, sparkling wonderland. Every branch, on every tree, glistened as though lighted from within. Long icicles hung from cottage eves. Ice crystals even created a halo around the moon. He wished he had a painting of this incredible scene. Across the pond, Farley Frog was also looking out his window and appreciating the view. He had the same idea as Bartholomew and was making sketches that would one day result in an exquisite painting.

  Overnight, the temperature rose, and the magic melted away. By morning there was little left. It was almost as if it had been an illusion or dream. Many stuck a nose or paw out their door and were pleasantly surprised by the temperature. The weather wasn’t warm, but compared to frigid, the change was very welcome.

  Bartholomew, quickly, made it clear that no one should venture out onto the pond anymore. The ice could not be trusted. The warmer weather stayed for the next few days, and the snow melted. The ground unfroze and became soggy.

  On Thursday, in the middle of the night, Sam Snapping Turtle was awakened by a loud noise. It was obviously coming from outside. He got up and looked out his front window towards the pond but saw nothing. It was a quiet, starlit night, but every couple of minutes, the silence was shattered by a loud cracking sound. He went outside and walked to the pond. The noise was coming from the pond. The ice was breaking up!

  Large chunks of ice were breaking off and trying to float down the creek. However, the creek wasn’t wide enough, and they were getting stuck. Worse than that, they were forming a dam that was blocking the water flow. Sam realized that this was serious. If the water couldn’t flow down the creek, Ballymore would be flooded.

  Even though it was only 3 bongs in the morning, he felt he had to tell Bartholomew. He immediately left for the owl’s home. As he walked along the edge of the pond, he saw that jagged cracks had appeared everywhere in the ice. The water level had already risen a bit. He reached Bartholomew’s and climbed the steps to the treehouse.

  Knock! Knock! Knock!

  In all of the years that Bartholomew had watched over the Ballymore community, no one had ever banged on his door in the middle of the night. He was awakened from a sound sleep and immediately became concerned.

  He rushed to the door and opened it. Sam was out of breath as he walked in.

  “Sam, what is it?”

  “The ice is cracking, and the pond water is rising! We’ll be flooded!” said the turtle breathlessly.

  “Now, calm down,” instructed Bartholomew. “Here, sit down, and I will make some tea.”

  Sam told Bartholomew everything he saw and heard. It didn’t take long. Bartholomew agreed that it appeared to be a serious matter and thanked Sam for coming so soon. After the tea they hurried back to the creek.

  Bartholomew saw that the ice was, indeed, piling up, and there was little water getting by. This was a problem that needed action, but it needed thinking first.

  “Well, there is nothing to do tonight, and we do have some time. Let’s both go back to bed and deal with this in the morning,” said Bartholomew.

  Sam agreed, said goodnight, and returned to his cottage. Bartholomew flew home. Before going inside, he pushed a tall stick into the mud at the edge of the pond. He marked the water height on the stick and noted that the time was just now 5 bongs. That would give him the information he needed to calculate how fast the water was rising.

  When he finally got back to bed, he couldn’t sleep. He was trying to think of ways to break up the ice jam. He wondered how much time they had until the first cottage was flooded. That cottage would be the frogs’ or Grenby’s, he guessed.

  At 8 bongs, the daily knock on the door came from Branna Bluebird. He briefly told Branna about the new problem and asked her to inform everyone that there would be a meeting at the creek at 11 bongs.

  Branna and her family spread the word quickly. Of course, the animals saw the ice breaking up, and they saw the dangerous ice jam when they arrived at the creek later that morning.

  When Bartholomew got there, he found many worried looks. There was good reason. The situation was the same as last night, if not worse. Giant pieces of ice continued to fight with each other to try to fit into the small entrance to the creek. They were very slowly shifting, crunching, and piling up onto each other. Almost no water was flowing as the ice blocked up everything. The creek looked very strange empty of water. You could walk across it without getting wet.

  Bartholomew spoke to the group.

  “As you can see we have a problem, but it is a problem that we will solve. I have taken some measurements and calculate that we have about two days before the rising water threatens the first cottage — Grenby’s. After this meeting I will have to wake him and give him the news. We have to figure out a way to safely break up this ice and let the water flow into the creek.”

  The frogs were safe, at least for a while. He had remembered that they could close a cover at the bottom of their pool. That kept additional water from coming in.

  He continued, “I have one idea, but do any of you have any thoughts?”

  Finn jumped up.

  “Yes, Finn?”

  “There is warm water coming into the pond west of the island. If we could get that water here, it would melt the ice.”

  Bartholomew had a quick reply. “Yes, there is. However, it would be very difficult to get that water here, and it would take too long.”

  Branna was next. “We could build a fire on each side of the creek and melt the ice.”

  “Yes, I thought of that, also. It could work, and we will try it. Thank you, Branna.”

  No one else spoke. So, for the moment, there was only one plan.

  Bartholomew said, “Let’s build two fires and hope for the best. I would like Burton to help supervise. We should start immediately. I am going to talk to Grenby now. I’ll be back soon.”

  Burton walked forward and began assigning jobs to everyone.

  Bartholomew flew to Grenby’s hut. He knew there would be no point knocking on the door. Grenby was fast asleep. So, he entered the hut and walked to the lower level. There, he found Grenby curled up in a ball in his bed, under a heavy quilt.

  He began to shake him gently.

  “I’m sorry, but I have to wake you.”

  Grenby grumbled but didn’t wake. Bartholomew shook him again. Grenby rolled over and looked at the owl through one eye.

  “I hope you have a good reason for ruining my sleep.”

  “Yes, unfortunately, I do,” answered Bartholomew. “The pond water i
s rising, and you might be sleeping underwater in two days.”

  Grenby sat up slowly.

  “What are you talking about?”

  Bartholomew explained everything to him. He wasn’t happy, but he understood.

  “How can I help?” he yawned.

  “We are building fires at the creek. You can help with that if you would like.”

  “Let me get dressed, and I’ll be there directly,” said Grenby as he yawned again.

  “Thank you. I am going back there now. See you soon.”

  “Bye,” responded Grenby.

  He crawled out of his warm bed and began to dress.

  When Bartholomew returned to the creek, the animals were bringing fuel from the woods. The moles, frogs, and chipmunks were gathering twigs and small kindling. The beavers, rabbits, and squirrels were carrying larger pieces. The swans and ducks were assembling two piles of wood, one on each side of the creek. The remaining animals had built a campfire and were bringing and preparing food. It appeared that they all would be there for a long time.