ROOTABAGA SAGA (Incipit)

I borrowed a book from the library, and learned a funny thing:  I no longer need to write anymore, because everything I have to say  has already been said – in Rootabaga Stories.  (Mr. Sandburg wrote that.)  Anything I ever have thought or put to paper, it’s already right there in that book!

But people are that ornery, that most of them refuse to read it, even though it’d do’m a power of good.  So I reckon I’ll keep on writing.

So anyhow  here’s a story you might not know,  even though it really did happen.

This very morning, in fact.

WOODCHUCK TALES

(1) The Tale of the All-scared Woodchuck

From the top of the hill, I perceive, at the bottom, the telltale furry blur of a browsing woodchuck.  He likewise perceives me, and, despite the distance, he takes flight.

(2) The Tale of the Not-scared Woodchuck

            Yet not ten minutes later, as I walk through the world, I come upon another, suddenly, around a bend, and well within danger distance.  But he does not make a break for it.  So I stop in my tracks, and whisk off my hat, and wave it, and bow, and start making my patented vegetarian not-gonna-eat-you sounds.  He considers, is satisfied, and resumes his browsing.

            This goes on for a while.  I take a step forwards; he considers; I pantomime universal peace between Man and Woodchuck; and he goes back to browsing, eventually not even keeping me in his field of view,  occasionally even coming a smidgen closer.

            Bond, bond, bond.

            And as heart-stopping climax to this suspenseful engagement – he leaves (with a certain waddly dignity) his little patch of grass, and crosses the asphalt path on which I’m standing, to reach (for reasons best known  to his own furry self) the similar little patch of grass on the yonder side.

            I now have a name for this particular woodchuck.  I call him, “My Special Woodchuck Friend.”

(3) The Tale of the All-scared Woodchuck, part II

            On the way back, I again encounter the first woodchuck, back at his browsing.  This time I’m too quick for him:  Before he can move a muscle – Off comes the hat, on comes the Vegetarian Pacifist sound.  Yet despite the utterly non-carnivorous tenor of my behavior (though admittedly a tad eccentric), he quickly scuttles off.

            I think I’ll call this one “Mr. Scaredy-chuck.”  See how he likes that!

[You want s'more Rootabaga, y'all just click right here:
http://worldofdrjustice.blogspot.com/2012/10/carl-sandburgs-rootabaga-stories.html ]