A Bevy Of Movers And Shakers
copyright 2005 Once upon a time, in the land of chinaberry trees and colorful thinkers, there lived a lush, green meadow where flowers bloomed, and many different creatures came to drink at a small pond. This meadow flourished, even though the surrounding land was rocky and forbidding. Each passing day saw the flowers in the meadow thrive, the family of creatures drinking from the pond in peaceful harmony, living happily ... away from the thorny flora and rocky cliffs beyond the forest. One day, as the creatures in the meadow were going about their usual pursuits, the resident frog hopped onto a lily pad in the pond and yelled to the raccoon, “Hey! Stop that! I’m sick and tired of the way you keep washing your food in this pond. I swim here, and you keep gunking up my water with that silly pastime of yours.”
“Oh?”, said the raccoon with wide-eyed amazement. “Well, let me tell YOU something! I don’t like the way YOU croak all the time either! Dadblasted, infernal noise! ‘Rib-it, rib-it, rib-it’, all the live-long day and night! Why don’t you stop that monotonous blathering and try catching a few flies with that silly tongue of yours?”
Hearing the ruckus between the frog and the raccoon, the goat trotted over, snickering, “Hey, you two, if you want my opinion, you’re both a couple of ignoramuses.”
“We DON’T want your opinion!”, chimed the frog and the raccoon. “Who do you think you are butting into our conversation?”
“Well”, said the goat, “I don’t like the way either of you do anything. You, frog ... croaking and hopping all over the place, disturbing my daydreaming. And you, you dumb raccoon, washing, washing, washing. You make too many ripples and too much noise splashing the water in the pond. Can’t you wash without making waves?”
“A-a-a-a-a-men!”, said the squirrel. “But, listen here, goat ... I’ve been meaning to say something about the way YOU bleat. What an awful racket you make! And those stupid stories you keep telling. They are SOooooooOOOoooo boring, and your style is dreadful! Why don’t YOU either shut up or get new material?! Better yet ... Get -- A -- life!”
As the four formerly friendly creatures’ bickering increased, the aardvark ambled over, dropping a few stray ants from his snout as he declared, “I think you are ALL bumbling idiots. In MY opinion, this meadow has gone to wrack and ruin. This would be a much better meadow in which to live if you’d follow MY standards.”
“Keep your big nose out of this!”, railed the chipmunk, who had joined the hubbub. “Everyone around here knows that YOU are responsible for the invasion of fire ants in this meadow. Why don’t you do your ant-eating in the anthill and keep them out of here?”
“Well, YOU certainly have no room to talk, you dopey chipmunk!” hissed the cat. “I keep stumbling over all those goldarned nuts you and that demented squirrel keep gathering. Why in tarnation can’t you keep the things piled up neat and tidy? And furthermore, who said you could put them in the berry bin? You’re supposed to keep them in the nut house!”
“Humph! Well I’ll tell you what, by darned! I sure don’t have to stay here and take this!”, shrieked the chipmunk. “GOOooooD-BYE!”
“Me either”, croaked the frog, hopping away. “GOOD-BYE!”
“Good-bye and good riddance!”, the rooster crowed, “I don’t have time for all this chicken-scratchin’, and hootin’ and hollerin’ anyway. I’ve got better things to do!”
Before long, all the creatures in the meadow had become disenchanted with each other, and, one by one, they left their once-loved home. Without the creatures, the meadow became a sad and lonely place. The flowers wilted and died, and the sweet, crystalline waters of the pond became stagnant and murky.
Time passed.
One day an explorer happened upon the meadow, and seeing vestiges of the creatures who had left, he became curious and began to look about for signs of life. As he was walking along the explorer heard a faint noise ... a weak, forlorn, bleating sound. The curious explorer followed the sound until he came upon the goat, partially hidden under a small chinaberry sapling which had taken root at the edge of the pond.
“Hello, goat!”, said the explorer. “Are you here by yourself?”
“It seems so”, replied the goat. “There used to be many creatures here, and we celebrated with great merrymaking in this meadow, but everyone grew weary with each other and departed to look for greener, more fascinating meadows.”
“That’s strange”, said the explorer, “for I think this meadow is quite pleasing.”
“Well”, said the goat, “Any meadow can look inviting, but it takes a little effort for one to be completely engaging. Some meadow-dwellers who lived here only wanted to watch as others tried to keep the meadow thriving, and others never liked the way their meadow-mates went about their endeavors. It was impossible to satisfy everybody.”
“What a shame”, murmured the explorer.
"Yes, it is a shame", said the goat. "But now that you're here maybe we can entice the others to return and help put the meadow back to its former beauty."
Time passed.
One by one the meadow inhabitants began to return, and once again the field was a thriving place.
A new day dawned, and all of the creatures were busy with their daily routines when they heard a sound coming from the vicinity of the pond. The goat ran to see what it was. “Come quick, explorer!”, shouted the goat. “Look!”
“YO-HO!”, chirped a yellow-breasted bird, perched atop the new fountain at the center of the rippling water. “My name is ... FITB, and I have come to sing in this strange place.”
"Hello ... and welcome!", said the menagerie of comrades.
And the bird said, “You are certainly an odd lot! Sort of dumb and silly, really, and in dire need of help! But never you mind, I will soon set you on the right path. I've been everywhere, done everything ... I've seen all and know all ... and I sing better than any bird you've ever heard!"
