by Bill Wallace
Thunder tilted his head to the side and glared down at the tortoise. “What do you mean, dumb? You calling me dumb?”
Berland tilted his head to the side and glared right back at him. “I know your parents told you to look before you leap. They should have told you to look before you squat. Who else would plop their rump over an open burrow? Don’t you know snakes love burrows and prairie dog tunnels? If I’d been a rattlesnake, well . . .”
Berland sighed and started to back into the shade of his burrow. “You’re dumb, all right. But you have to be the luckiest roadrunner I ever met in all my seventy-five seasons. If that had been Tess, even dumb luck wouldn’t have saved you. She’d be picking her teeth with your tail feathers.”
“Berland. Wait. Who’s Tess? Don’t leave me. Please.”
Chapter 15
Berland fussed and fumed a little, but he stayed. Thunder needed someone to talk with. Even more important, after the close call he’d had, the young roadrunner was more than ready to listen. He could tell Berland sensed that.
The old tortoise explained that Tess was the bobcat who lived down the canyon. Although she usually stayed beyond the place where the rocks had fallen to hold the water, she occasionally came to hunt in this wide part of the valley. “The crows are probably what brought the coyote,” Berland said. “Crows tell other crows when there’s food. When there are that many crows, and that much noise, always be on the watch for predators. Scruffy heard them and came to see what there was to eat. It’s a wonder Tess didn’t come to check it out, too.”
He also told Thunder that Tess’s paws and pads were much broader than Scruffy’s. “If she had been chasing you, moving fast, she wouldn’t have gotten stuck in the mud.”
Thunder was just getting ready to ask Berland what mud was when he saw the coyote lunge and stumble from the edge of the cattails. He was covered from the tips of his paws to his belly with a slick, slimy, gooey coat of black. He stood for a moment, panting, then shook. Little black droplets filled the air and scattered all about. He raised his right front paw and shook it. Then his left hind paw. Then his left front, and finally his right hind. Still covered and dripping, he flopped down and started rolling.
He rolled and rubbed against the sand on one side, flipped to his back, then scraped his other side in the dirt. Once on his feet again, he walked a ways, found some dry grass, and dropped to his belly. Then he crawled and rubbed and flopped some more.
“Mud?” Thunder asked.
“Mud,” Berland agreed. “It’s what happens to dirt when it gets very wet. Where the cattails are, there’s also decayed plant stuff mixed in. Mud can’t hold you up like dry dirt. It lets you sink. Your feet were wide enough to keep you moving—as long as you ran. If you had stopped, you would have sunk in the mud and been stuck there, just like Scruffy.”
Thunder watched as the coyote went back to the rocks where Speedette, Agile’eka, and Brisk had been while he and Rocket were racing. The coyote sniffed around a minute or two, but the trail was cold. So he checked out some nearby brush for a rabbit. When he found nothing, he crossed the dam and disappeared.
“I like this valley,” Thunder said. “Agile’eka and I talked about living here. Raising a family of our own. We’re both too young, but maybe in a year or two. Now . . . I don’t know . . . Scruffy and Tess . . . maybe it’s just too dangerous to claim this as our territory.”
“No matter where you go in the desert it’s going to be dangerous.” Berland yanked his head inside his shell. “It’s a harsh place. Food is hard to find—water even harder. There are always coyotes or bobcats or something that wants to eat you or bite you or sting you. This valley is a good place. There’s enough food for two families of roadrunners, and no one has claimed it. When your time comes, I don’t know why it shouldn’t be yours. If . . .”
He poked his head out once more. “If you’re smart and strong . . .”
“But I’m not very smart,” Thunder confessed. “I’m not very strong, either. I tried to fly when Scruffy was chasing me, and I could barely get off the ground. My feet are too big. Too heavy to lift. I just can’t—”
Suddenly Thunder felt something hitting his chest and wings. He glanced down. Sand flew at him again and again.
Berland always used his feet to dig. This time, he shoved the sand at Thunder—first with one foot, then the other. “You’re just making excuses. There you go. Being lazy again.”
Thunder felt his head crest bristle. “My stinking feet are huge. How can I—”
But before he could finish, Berland kicked another pawful of sand. “So your feet are huge. Big deal! So what?”
“So I can’t run through brush or tree limbs. I can’t fly. I can’t—”
“Can’t. Can’t. Can’t,” Berland mocked. “With you, it’s always ‘I can’t.’ ” He kicked another pile of sand at Thunder. “The first night we met, I told you to move. You said, ‘I can’t.’ But you did. The next day you walked. The next day you ran. Then . . .”
He paused, glaring at Thunder out of one eye. “Then you spent a whole day pouting because you didn’t like your name. Now look at you. You’re big and strong. It’s easy to tell you’ve had no trouble catching food. You’re fast, too. You were beating that other roadrunner. You managed to get away from Scruffy. For someone who ‘can’t’—you seem to be doing pretty good. How did you get so fast?”
“I practiced,” Thunder said proudly. “I ran and ran and ran. Even when I didn’t need to.”
“And you got stronger and faster.”
With a sigh, Thunder lowered his head. His beak scraped the sand. “But I still can’t fly.”
“So practice that.”
Thunder glanced up and shook his head. “I have! I’ve tried and tried. I still can’t get more than eight inches off the ground. I still can’t fly more than ten feet, no matter what I do. Nothing works. Nothing helps. I just don’t know what to do.”
Berland climbed all the way out of his burrow. He walked to the edge of the cliff, where he could see over. “I was born in this very valley,” he said. “There were eight of us who hatched about the same time. We crawled from the sand—each to go our own way. I am the only one of the eight to survive.
“Two years later, I was crossing this valley. It was like today. The time when the tarantulas hatch. Before the noon sun was high, the crows filled the air. Their calls and caws were almost deafening.
“At two seasons, my shell was hard and my legs were much stronger than when I was a baby. But since I was still small, I wasn’t safe from the crows. They pick up small tortoises, fly high in the air with them, then let them go to crack their shells and eat them. I was walking along, minding my own business, when one swooped down and grabbed me.
“Luckily, I was close to a rock. I caught it with both front feet and held on. That old crow lifted me—and that rock—clean off the ground. But with the rock, I was too heavy for him to get me more than an inch or so in the air. The crow tried again, but I held my rock. Another crow came, but I was still too heavy to lift. I held that rock for dear life until night came and it was safe to move on.
“What you need to do, kid, is find your rock. Then you have to practice. Train. Exercise. Get in shape. After you do that, then you need to . . .”
• • •
Way into the night, the two talked. And Thunder listened. When the morning sun climbed to the sky, Berland moved on his way. Thunder went to find Agile’eka.
Chapter 16
Agile’eka was dozing under a mesquite when Thunder first spotted her. Since he and Berland had stayed awake all night talking, he was out and about before first light. He started the search for his rock, even though it was almost too dark to move around.
He saw Agile’eka only an instant before she saw him. He raced toward her. She sprang to her feet. Eyes wide and head crest high, she sprinted across the flat to greet him.
They raced toward each other so fast they barely managed to stop before they crashed.
So excited that she couldn’t keep from hopping all around, Agile’eka rubbed her neck feathers against his.
“I thought the coyote got you,” she said, her clattering almost a whimper. “You disappeared into those tall weeds. He was right on your tail feathers. I could hear him crashing around and . . . and . . . as long as he stayed in there . . . I . . . I just knew you were a goner.”
He explained to her about the mud. About how his feet were big enough to keep him from sinking, but the coyote’s weren’t. He also told her not to try the same trick with the cattails, because with her little, dainty feet, she’d sink like a rock.
He told her about Winterfat, who was Scruffy’s mate, and how they usually hunted together. But yesterday she’d stayed in their den to nurse the new pups. Then he told her about Tess.
“Bobcats are quick. They can leap almost as high as you can fly. You’re not even safe in a tree,” he explained. “With their long, sharp claws, they can climb higher than even the strongest roadrunner can fly.”
When Agile’eka asked him how he knew all these things, he told her about Berland. Well . . . he tried to tell her about Berland. It was really hard to do, because, even though he’d described Berland to her before, she still had never seen a gopher tortoise. Neither had Speedette, who showed up about the time he was trying to explain again. They listened to Thunder’s description but kept looking at each other and rolling their eyes.
“A head that looks like a snake?” Speedette asked when he finished.
“Little short legs?” Agile’eka added. “Lives inside a rock?”
“Only he calls the rock a shell? And he carries it with him wherever he goes?”
“Right.” Thunder smiled. “That’s it.”
Smirking, both girls blinked about five times while they looked at each other. “We just don’t get it. We think you’re making it up. If there were such a strange animal, why haven’t we ever seen it?”
Thunder puffed his chest feathers out, proud of himself for knowing the answer before they asked. “Gopher tortoises spend most of their time underground, in their burrows. Berland’s territory is a seven-mile circle. One end is at the edge of the short grass prairie where I was born. The other is the ridge just above this valley. In between, he has eleven burrows. He spends his days there, when it’s hot. He feeds at night. Sometimes—if he’s found a lot to eat—he might spend five or six days before he moves on to the next burrow. He’s like underneath the sand most of his life. That’s why you never see him.”
Speedette shook her head, and, spotting Brisk beside a cholla, trotted across the flats to ask him about the strange creature Thunder had described. Rocket watched from the edge of the pond, far down the valley.
Alone once more, Thunder turned to Agile’eka. He told her about his rock. What Berland had told him he needed to do so he could fly.
“What do you mean, you have to leave?” Agile’eka pouted. “I love this valley.”
“I told you. I have to find my rock,” Thunder explained. “I’ve looked all over. I can’t find the right one. I have to keep searching until I find it. Will you go with me?”
Her eyes tightened. She looked at him a moment and gazed around the valley. “Why can’t you stay here?”
“If I stay here,” Thunder explained with a sigh, “I will not survive. If Scruffy and Winterfat come at the same time, or if Tess comes—there will be no more Thunder. But once I’ve found my rock, once I’m in shape, once I’ve trained and worked out and am ready, we can come back. Come with me. Please.”
“You’re leaving to go find a rock?”
“Yes.”
“You’re talking a rock rock? Or a rock like your friend Berland?”
“A rock rock.”
She looked around again. “There are lots of rocks here. Why do you need to leave the valley to find a rock when there are so many here?”
“I haven’t found the right rock. I started looking before light. I’ve searched this whole valley and the ridges on either side. It’s not here.”
“I really like this valley, Thunder. There’s plenty to eat. We have friends here.”
“As soon as I find my rock,” he promised, “as soon as I’m ready . . . we’ll come back.”
Agile’eka hesitated a moment. And in that instant, Thunder felt his heart sink deep in his chest. She turned to him and fluttered her eyes. “I really like you, Thunder. You’re nice. I think you’re kind of cute, too. But . . . but . . .” she stammered. “Tell you what. You go find your rock and work out. I’ll wait for you. I’ll be right here when you come back. How does that sound?”
His heart was heavy. His fat feet were even heavier. They thumped the ground as he ran. The sound seemed so loud it echoed against the valley walls. It followed him to the ridge, to the mesa beyond. No matter how fast or how far he ran, the sound followed him. Almost as if repeating his name, “Thunder. Thunder. Thunder!”
Chapter 17
Three months later, and far, far from his beloved Agile’eka and their beautiful valley, Thunder’s big feet didn’t feel nearly as heavy. Not that they were any smaller or lighter. His feet were still huge. They still thundered on the desert floor. But everywhere Thunder went—everywhere he searched—he ran. He slowed only when sneaking up on food, or resting in the shade. As the days grew shorter, the nights cooler, his rest times became fewer and fewer.
He ran on the sand. He searched out brush and fallen limbs and ran there. Pebbles didn’t bother him. He could dodge around the bigger boulders. The medium-size ones caused him to trip and stumble. So he searched out those areas and ran there. His legs were strong. So strong that he hardly noticed the weight of his big feet.
His heart—even stronger than his legs—still felt heavy. He was alone. And loneliness made his journey seem endless.
• • •
He met a few other roadrunners. Startled by the sound of his running, most raced away before he could greet them. A few laughed at him.
Sad and alone, he felt that maybe Berland had lied to him. Either that or the old tortoise was loony as a bug. Still he kept looking. Searching. At times he didn’t even understand why.
The hot breath of summer gave way to the cool breezes from the north. When winter chased summer to the south, food was hard to find. The bugs must have been blown away along with the summer breeze. Snakes and lizards hid beneath the rocks or sand. Many days he went hungry. Other times he was forced to eat mesquite pods or other plants just to stay alive.
He tried not to think of Agile’eka. The memory of her only made him feel even more alone.
When spring drove winter back to the high mountains in the east—where it belonged—he finally saw what his father had called rain, the drops of water that fell from the sky. They joined together in the arroyos and chased one another, tumbling and scampering to form streams and pools. The bugs must have floated back on the drops of rain. Suddenly they seemed to be everywhere.
He had a close call with a coyote or two. Nothing he couldn’t outrun or dodge. He saw a bobcat—up close and personal—for the first time. He saw the whiskers twitch only seconds before the cat leaped from behind a creosote bush. With Thunder’s speed, it was all the time he needed to escape.
The sun warmed the land and it was a time of plenty again. When he saw other roadrunners, there were always two. It was the beginning of his second season. A time of new life in the desert. It made him long for Agile’eka. Made him feel more alone than ever.
“You’ve got to be the luckiest roadrunner in the whole wide world.” That’s what Berland had told him. But Thunder didn’t believe that anymore. Not until he topped the crest of a high mesa . . . and tripped. He’d looked over the area—as always—to make sure there was no danger. He’d seen the cluster of stones and boulders at the edge. But he stumbled anyway.
Irritated and disgusted with himself, Thunder snapped his head around to glare at what caught his fat foot. Suddenly his eyes flashed wide. Right size. Right shape. Give it a tr
y. He hopped on the rock. Eight toes wrapped about it—four on the front, four on the back. He tested it. Still gripping with his toes, he first tried to lift his right foot. The claws held. Then his left foot.
Perfect!
Hanging on tight with both feet, Thunder flapped his wings as hard as he could. When he could flap no more, he gritted his beak and flapped even harder.
He flapped so hard that he felt as if his head crest would fly clear off his skull. He strained so much that he thought his whole head might explode. Still the grip of his feet held fast.
At long last, Thunder had found his rock!
His heart soared with a new hope. It thumped proud and strong in his chest. Now he could dream of Agile’eka again. Now he could truly trust and believe everything Berland had said. The old tortoise’s words—words he’d heard the night they stayed up and talked until the morning sun—surged through his head as strong and loud as his blood surged from his heart.
“With those feet of yours, you must always be watchful. See danger before danger sees you. But this is not enough. Danger is always with us in the desert. Your legs must be stronger than the fastest roadrunner. This is the only way you can escape the coyotes and bobcats. And before you can return to this place—the valley where Tess lives—you must fly. Your feet are heavy. So to fly, your wings must be stronger and more powerful than any roadrunner’s.
“I will tell you how to do this. First you must find your rock. If it is too small, with those big feet you won’t be able to get a grip on it. If it is too big, your claws will slip and not hold. It must be your perfect rock.
“Next you must practice. Every day, you must try to lift the rock from the ground. You don’t really have to lift it, but you do have to try your hardest. This is the only way to make your wings strong enough to fly with those feet of yours. You will know when you are ready. Then and only then will it be time to return.”
