Stand Up and Whistle

by Phyllis Perry

  Mary Jo had practiced with the mic at an earlier rehearsal and now smoothly removed it from the stand and held it. Jeannie put the music in place, and turned to smile at her friend.

  Mary Jo nodded and Jeannie began the introduction. After the opening bars, Mary Jo began to sing in her clear voice. Each haunting note filled the hushed auditorium. Shivers ran across Jeannie’s back and down her arms. When the song ended, there was a moment of absolute silence before the wild applause began.

  Jeannie walked over to Mary Jo, and the girls bowed together before leaving the stage as the tumultuous clapping continued.

  Outside in the hall, they hugged before going back into room ten. “You were absolutely wonderful!” Jeannie said.

  Mary Jo carried her roses with her to the final group curtain call on stage, and the students bowed as the audience gave them a standing ovation.

  Then, to avoid the crowds in the halls, the performers came down the stage steps and stood along the front of the auditorium. Family and friends quickly came to greet them.

  “Look!” Mary Jo shouted, as three figures neared them. Hurrying forward with Mr. and Mrs. Matthews was Karen.

  “I didn’t know you were coming!” Mary Jo said as the sisters hugged.

  “I didn’t either until the last minute,” Karen said. “I hadn’t planned another trip home so soon, but Mom and Dad decided I should be here for your stage debut. You were fantastic, kiddo!”

  Jeannie’s parents came hurrying up to join the little group and offer their praise.

  A voice to Jeannie’s right said, “You two were great!” Jeannie turned to see Geoff.

  “Yeah,” Chester said. As others crowded up to offer congratulations, the boys turned to leave. “See you tomorrow,” Geoff said.

  After the boys left, and while their parents were talking, Mary Jo turned to Jeannie and hugged her. “I’m so happy tonight,” she said. “And I owe it all to you. I was too scared to sign up and take a chance. But you believed in me. And you made it happen. Thanks! This is one ‘memory’ that I’ll treasure forever!”

  Jeannie hugged her back, wrapped for a moment in euphoria. She just hoped the City Council meeting tomorrow would also have a happy ending.

  Chapter Twelve

  Betsy Keasley from Animal Defense had promised to attend the City Council work session and to let Jeannie know right after school on Friday what decision had been made about the prairie dogs. Jeannie wished she’d been able to convince her parents to let her skip classes and attend the meeting. But they reminded her that this was not a regular Council meeting. It was a work session. There would be no citizen participation allowed. Jeannie couldn’t say or do anything even if she attended.

  Jeannie and Mary Jo rushed home from school and hadn’t long to wait. At promptly 3:30 p.m. the bell rang, and both girls ran to open the door.

  Betsy Keasley stood there. Jeannie tried, but she couldn’t read the expression on Betsy’s face. Had they won or lost? Forgetting her manners, Jeannie blurted out, “What happened?”

  “She did it!” Betsy said, and a smile broke out on her face. “Maria Mendoza convinced the other two commissioners to agree to relocate the prairie dogs this weekend. Jeannie, you’ve saved them!”

  Jeannie felt the tears in her eyes. She turned to Mary Jo and silently hugged her while she tried to get hold of her feelings so that she could speak. Then she turned back toward Betsy. “It wasn’t just me,” she said. “Lots of people had a hand in saving them. But boy, am I happy!”

  “You should be,” Betsy said. “Without you, it wouldn’t have happened. You’re the one who blew the whistle on Keelor Construction. When you came into my office a couple of weeks ago, no one at the Animal Defense Fund knew anything about the plans to exterminate the colonies at Longview and Willow Creek. Congratulations!”

  “Thanks,” Jeannie said.

  “And that’s not all,” Betsy went on. “The National Wildlife Federation is going to use this case as an example of the threat to the prairie dog species when they file a petition next week with the Fish and Wildlife Service asking for an emergency listing of prairie dogs as threatened under the Endangered Species Act.”

  “Wow!” Mary Jo said.

  “Wouldn’t it be great if there were laws preventing poisoning from happening anywhere else?” Jeannie asked.

  “There may be one day,” Betsy said. “Meantime, we’ll all gather at the Willow Creek site at nine o’clock tomorrow morning. The state transport trucks will be there. If any of your friends want to come along, we could use their help. Wear old clothes and gardening gloves, and expect to be dirty and wet. Now I’ve got to hurry off. I’ve got lots to do between now and then.”

  As soon as Betsy left, Jeannie got on the phone and called Geoff and Chester to share the fantastic news. Both said they’d come and agreed to catch the number 6 bus and ride together to the prairie dog field.

  After hanging up the phone, Jeannie had a terrible thought. Karen was home for the weekend. Did that mean that Mary Jo would be with her instead of helping Jeannie relocate the prairie dogs tomorrow?

  “Uh . . .” Jeannie said, “Can you come tomorrow, Mary Jo? Or do you need to be home with Karen?”

  “Of course I’ll be there tomorrow,” Mary Jo said. “We’re in this together. But I’m going to hurry home right now to enjoy Karen while I can!”

  __________

  When the bus rounded the corner Saturday morning and reached the stop closest to Mary Jo’s house, Jeannie’s spirits soared. There was her best friend, hair back in its familiar braid, dressed in jeans and a camp shirt waiting for the bus.

  “Hey!” Jeannie said, scooting over in her seat. “I’m sure glad to see you, Miss Star of the Extravaganza! Are you ready for this?”

  “As ready as I’ll ever be,” Mary Jo said.

  When Geoff and Chester got on at the next stop, Jeannie noticed that they both wore baseball caps; she wished she’d thought of that. It was going to be a scorcher today, a final blaze of Indian summer before cooler fall weather set in.

  The four of them rehashed the glories of the Extravaganza most of the way to their destination. It was hard to remember that only a month ago, they were almost strangers.

  By the time Jeannie and the others jumped off the bus and headed out into the prairie dog field, she saw that several trucks were parked, and about three dozen people had gathered. The sun beamed down from a cloudless sky. Jeannie breathed in the smell of warm earth. She was feeling glad this morning that both she and the prairie dogs were alive.

  “Hey!” Betsy called. “Glad to see you guys. Neil Monsett from the Prairie Ecosystem Conservation Alliance is right over there.” She pointed out a man wearing a white t-shirt with a picture of a prairie dog and the words “Good Dog, Not Bad Dog” on the front. “He’s going to organize the relocation today. We’ll get started in just a few minutes, I think.”

  “Uh oh!” Geoff said, suddenly poking Jeannie in the ribs and pointing out toward the street. “Look who’s coming.”

  Jeannie stared in the direction he pointed and was scarcely able to believe her eyes. Climbing out of their parked truck were Mr. Watson and Bobby. The two hurried across the field, and when they reached the group, Mr. Watson was the first to speak.

  “Thought I owed it to you folks to help out today,” he said simply. “And Bobby wanted to come, too.” Mr. Watson reached down and put his arm around his son’s shoulders.

  “I’m glad you’re here,” Jeannie said. And she meant it.

  At that point, Neil Monsett shouted, “Gather ‘round, folks, and let me explain what we’re up to this morning.”

  People moved in closer so that they could hear. “What we do,” Neil explained, “is use tanks of soapy water to flush the prairie dogs out of their burrows. The dogs have to pop up out of one of the openings, because if they stayed put, they’d drown. The h
ard part is being quick enough to catch one when it comes up out of a hole. You have to grab it and hold on tight to the fur behind the neck.

  “The people wearing these special white t-shirts are experienced dog catchers.” He laughed, and the crowd joined in. “So catching the prairie dogs is their job. But the rest of you can help in lots of ways. Some of you can use the hoses to flush out the prairie dogs. Others can take the animals from the dogcatchers, hold them, and towel them off. Some of you can put a saline solution into the animals’ eyes to wash out the soapy water. And others can put them in the cages in the trucks. Betsy Keasley will help assign you to a job on one of the four teams.”

  In no time at all, the four teams were at work. Jeannie was assigned to Team A, saline solution. She was given a clear plastic bottle of liquid and asked to stand by. Geoff was sent to tend the water hose on Team B. Chester had the saline solution job for Team C. And Mary Jo was sent to work the water hose on Team D. Bobby was to be a “stacker” in the truck, and Mr. Watson was given an extra pair of gloves and designated to be a “handler.”

  It was an exciting moment when the pumps were started and the soapy water was sent gushing down into the first prairie dog tunnel. Jeannie had a fleeting thought of how terrifying this moment must be to the little animals underground. Holding her bottle tight, Jeannie tried to scan the whole field to take everything in. It wasn’t long before two prairie dogs came rushing out of their flooded tunnels.

  Two tee-shirted adults pounced on the dogs, holding them tightly in gloved hands. They gave them to the handlers who quickly rubbed the wet dogs with towels, drying them off, and then one held a prairie dog out in front of Jeannie. “Get close to the eye,” one of the adults explained, “and squirt in a good shot of the solution.”

  Jeannie promptly did as she was told. She squirted saline in first one eye of the prairie dog, and then the other. Next a handler took the damp bundle of fur and rushed over to a truck where a man stood waiting with a small open cage. The prairie dog was dropped in, and the cage closed and given to a stacker who carried it to the far back of the truck.

  This same routine was followed throughout the morning. Jeannie soon felt she was an expert at eye rinsing.

  “Let’s take a break,” Mr. Monsett finally shouted as an old bus came lumbering up to the side of the field at noon. “Grab a seat on the bus and we’ll go over to the Rec Center for a box lunch.” He didn’t have to call twice.

  Everyone hurried over to the bus and climbed on. Mary Jo saved a seat for Jeannie right behind Chester and Geoff. Mr. Watson and Bobby sat right across from them.

  “That’s darn hard work,” Mr. Watson observed to no one in particular. He mopped his sweaty forehead with a sleeve of his now grimy shirt.

  “Yeah,” Bobby agreed. “But it’s fun, too. Those dogs are kinda cute.”

  Jeannie looked at Mary Jo, who was a mess, and realized that she must look the same—dirt-streaked cheeks and flyaway hair, muddy shoes, and wet pant legs. Jeannie tried to smooth her hair behind her ears.

  At the Rec Center, after everyone had washed up and looked slightly more presentable, the teams gathered in a meeting room. Round tables and brightly colored plastic chairs were scattered about. At a long table at one end of the room was a stack of box lunches. And there were glasses, buckets of ice, and half a dozen flavors of soda. There was also a big urn of coffee and the strong aroma filled the air.

  “Look!” Jeannie said. “There’s Mr. Hathaway!”

  “Hi, folks!” Mr. Hathaway said in his most jovial voice. “Help yourself to lunch and something to drink, courtesy of Keelor Construction.”

  “Can you believe it?” Mary Jo whispered.

  “It’s a miracle!” Jeannie answered.

  “It’s politics,” Chester said.

  After making choices for box lunches and sodas, the Watsons, Chester, Geoff, Mary Jo, and Jeannie all sat at a table together. Jeannie felt a little awkward at first, but soon everyone was talking like old friends. The one topic that wasn’t mentioned was Ryan Watson. Jeannie couldn’t help but wonder how he felt when his dad and brother left that morning and he stayed stubbornly at home.

  The bus finally took them all back to the prairie dog site. Jeannie shaded her eyes and studied the field. She saw one of the prairie dogs run outside its burrow. To her astonishment, it stood on its hind legs, threw its front paws high toward the heavens, chattered, bowed down, and then leaped into the air. It repeated this action three times before it finally disappeared down into its burrow.

  “Did you see that?” Jeannie asked.

  “Yeah,” Geoff said. “Looked like an audition for an Extravaganza act.”

  The afternoon was much like the morning. Hard, hot work. At one point, a prairie dog squirmed and slipped out of the hands of the dogcatcher. He ran straight at Jeannie, and almost without thinking, she bent down, and caught him by the fur at the back of his neck.

  She held on tightly to the squirming bundle, which was a lot heavier than she’d expected, until the handler took him from her. As she squirted saline in its eyes, the prairie dog winked and gave her a knowing look. Jeannie winked back, positive that it was Whistler. She watched him being carried off to the truck. She vowed that as soon as she could, she would hike in the open space at Scrub Jay Ridge and try to see her old friend in his new digs.

  By five o’clock, Jeannie was sunburned, wet, and dirty but filled with a sense of accomplishment. One truck had already pulled away with its load of prairie dogs and the second was nearly full.

  “Do you think we got them all?” Jeannie asked Betsy, who came walking by.

  “I sure hope so,” Betsy said. “Neil is going to take one more check of the field, and then we’ll call it quits. This is a good healthy colony, and I think they’ll thrive in their new home.”

  Two more prairie dogs were flushed out, and then the workers decided to call it a day. Thanks were given all around and then everyone scattered.

  Chester, Geoff, Mary Jo, and Jeannie dragged themselves over to the corner to catch the number 6 bus. When it came, they rode up front on the bench seat. The two girls sat together in the middle and Geoff sat next to Jeannie while Chester sat next to Mary Jo.

  Jeannie looked over at the mess that was Mary Jo and then down at her own mud-streaked clothes. Thursday, they had looked their prettiest and right now she thought the two of them had never looked worse. But Jeannie had never felt better in her life. She was proud of herself, and she was proud of her friends, too. Working together, they had made a difference—an important difference.

  The rest of the ride home was pretty quiet.

  Jeannie was lost in her own thoughts, which were quite a jumble. She was bone tired, wet, and uncomfortable. But she wasn’t thinking about that. She was thinking about the prairie dogs.

  Whistler was safe. There was hope for the future of prairie dogs. Mr. Watson and Bobby and Mr. Hathaway turned out to be not so bad after all. It seemed amazing what someone could do if they tried. Even a kid in middle school could cause change if she just stood up for what was right. And when friends joined in and the numbers added up, standing together, they could make a difference.

  Jeannie heard something through her fuzzy thoughts. It was Geoff whistling the melody from “Memories.” Jeannie smiled and thought to herself that her own memories of the past few weeks would last a long, long time.

  About the Author

  As a teacher in California, New Jersey, and Colorado, Phyllis J. Perry was always looking for the best, most interesting books she could find for her students. Not always successful in finding exactly what she wanted, she promised herself that one day she would write to fill that void. Retired and writing full time now, she has published more than eighty books for children and adults.

  Many of her books have been about animals. She has written about training rescue dogs, about poisonous sea creatures off the coast
of Australia, about tigers, crocodiles, bats and even mice. It was only natural that the plight of prairie dogs would catch her attention and result in a book for young readers. Since she lives in Colorado, just a short drive from Rocky Mountain National Park, it is also natural that several of her nonfiction books are about the park and some of the exciting historical figures involved in its creation.

  Phyllis loves the theater, not only attending plays in her area, but also acting in roles in local venues. She enjoys sight-seeing trips to National Parks, especially in Alaska. When she isn’t writing, in the theater, or sight-seeing, she can often be found immersed in reading a good British mystery.