It Was Just One Day - Clark Mahoney (rainbow fish read aloud TXT) 📗

feet always gave themselves away, so noisy, click, click, their feetsies making so much racket. He could always track their scared departure on rocks, logs, and leaves. It was so easy, with his amazing hearing skills. But, this critter wasn’t moving any feet. Instead, there was a slight buzzing sound, a rippling of the air, at super fast speed.

Okay, well, I’ll just have to track this meal by sight, he decided, so off he lumbered through the sagebrush, parting it easily with his wide girth. He looked left, and right, and, wait! There it is, a flyer. He paused, nose pointed straight at his dinner, uncertain if he should venture forward, for he knew about this type of airborne critter. Not only would they fly to the trees at his approach, they were also notorious for swarming, and stinging, any soft-nosed critter like himself who dared to seek the delights of their hive. Ouch, he thought. Do I want to chance a sore nose for the sake of food?

He thought for a moment, and decided to just wait, to see where this flyer flew off to. Which tree? He knew all the local flyer hangouts in this canyon. None were nearby. The nearest was quite a ways up river, in a tree perched high on the side of the hill. He had tried many times to climb this hill, but always came tumbling down after just a few steps. It was way too steep for a chubby badger. Well, maybe a FAT badger is the more accurate description, hee, hee. Where did this flyer live? The yellow and black color pattern told him that she lived in a colony, with lots of other stinging flyers. She would probably head home now that he was there, and then he could sneak in, and quickly make a lunge for the soft, and very tasty, wigglers who lived deep inside the flyers home. Mmmmm. This could turn out to be a rather grand dinner after all, if only he wasn’t worried about his nose.

 

Chapter 8

This valley was never quiet. There was always something buzzing, clicking, snapping, crooning, or chirping. Bee loved the sounds of the dark, far away, and so mysterious. She’d often sit at the edge of the hive, late at night, while the others bees were resting, listening, and wondering what was out there. She was a curious bee. She wanted to know.

As a young bee, she could only hear vibrations, the essence of what communication with sound involves, buzz, buzz. With time, she learned to decode these vibrations, to learn where flowers were located, buzz, over to the left, buzz, fly past the grove of trees. Then, she began to understand the other words that her hive-mates were trying to tell her, such typical things as “Hello,” and “How are you?” and “Watch out! There’s a spider on that flower.” She used her antennae and feet to decode the messages, and got very good at it. In fact, she got so good, that she realized that she was also hearing the sounds, and words, of other critters outside of her hive, especially at night, when the other bees got silent and rested.

Tonight, as she sat there alone on the leafy carpet covering the canyon floor, she began to listen again. She relaxed, ceased her buzzing wings, and focused, diverting her attention from seeing, to hearing. And that is when the magic happened.

Off to the right, about two hundred bee-lengths away, was the gurgling of the water as it rushed downhill. And, there, somewhere near the shoreline, she heard a croak, croak. Far above her, in the tree that cast its eerie shadow across the land, was a chorus of chirp-chirping. And, behind her, far, far away, she heard the crick, cricking of hoppers.

She could hear, and feel, the swaying of the giant tree above her as the wind rushed down the valley, and pushed the leaves and branches back and forth in its wake. As it swayed left, she felt that. As it swayed right, she felt that.

And, just upstream, about a hundred bee-lengths away, she heard the low breathing of a very large critter, followed by the parting of a bush, as it leaped forward in a burst of speed. That woke her from her game, as she realized that the sound of paws on dirt was coming directly toward her, and she had only seconds to escape.

 

Chapter 9

He was minding his own business. That’s what he always did. He didn’t care about what other critters were doing. Their life, their problems, their worries, well, he just couldn’t care less. He was entirely focused on filling up his belly when he was hungry, and avoiding danger when it was near, and sleeping through the winter, and staying out of the hot, hot sunshine.

Danger? Blah! He did not like big critters, or noisy critters, or slithering critters. That was why he was so quiet. He hadn’t spoken a word, or peep, or squeak, to anyone since, well, since that big tree fell into the creek ages ago. He kept to himself.

Poke, poke, he used his snout to move the leaves away. Poke, poke, where are the critters hiding? This was how he worked best. And today, well, he’d come across an ant trail, black ones, BIG, with hairy abdomens. He didn’t really like these crawlers, as they had VERY large pinchers on the front, and sometimes, they’d get his lip, and ouchie. But, mostly, it was gobble, gobble, mmmmm.

He’d eaten about fifty ants, when he tired of their bitter taste, so he went for a short walk, up past the pointy bush, over the smooth rock, around the poofy-leaf tree, and to the soft log. Up he climbed, and looked around, wondering if there might be some grubs somewhere nearby. He loved grubs, soft, juicy, so easy on the stomach. If you ate too many ants, well, your stomach kinda burned. But, just one or two grubs, and well, your stomach was sooooo happy, full, but not too much.

As he stood there, thinking about where to look first, he heard a sound, something behind him. It sounded like a bunch of feet, running at once. Ah, there it is. He saw the final segments of a centipede disappear under the leaf-pile. Centipedes were NOT part of his diet. They fought too much when you tried to eat them. Plus, they gave him indigestion.

He also saw a spider, crawling up a web. Nope, definitely not a part of his diet.

And, a buzzing bee, off to the side. It was looking straight at him. Hmph! What should he do? He didn’t eat bees, and he certainly never spoke to one. They were always too busy, working, working, working. Nope, that’s a strict no-no. He’d learned the hard way not to mess with bees when he was younger. But wait, it wasn’t looking directly at him. It was looking just past him, behind him. What was it looking at?

He turned his head, slowly, and that’s when he saw the most terrifying sight ever, the scariest thing a lizard could see coming straight out of his nightmares. OMG! This was it! The end is now! My life is over, he thought.

A badger stood there, having snuck up behind him quickly, so fast, that he’d not noticed, and was bending his head toward him, with gaping jaws open.

With no time to lose, Lizard turned his head, bent his knees, and leaped for safety. But, it was too late, as he found himself in the jaws of Badger, his mortal enemy. This was it. Goodbye cruel world, goodbye.

He felt Badger’s teeth tear into his skin.

 

Chapter 10

Escape! Escape! Fly away to safety! That’s what all flyers thought as danger approached. They’d been warned of that as little ones. When danger is near, to the sky you must go, as the old ones had taught.

She arose in fear, legs shaking, wings beating feverishly, and flew up towards safety. Rising, rising, she found herself above the fray, and saw the one who shook the earth with his approach. It was Badger. She’d seen him on several occasions, digging for dinner on cool evenings, searching for wigglers and crawlers. Once, she’d seen him below her hive, watching, watching, for what reason she was unsure.

Although his footsteps thundered in her body, she realized that another critter had been nearby, but had NOT sensed his approach…a lizard. He sat on a stump, oblivious to the approaching danger, bloated belly, staring in wonder at what was around him.

Her eyes saw it all. She wanted to turn away, but couldn’t. Badger arrived, less than a body length away from the lizard, who turned, too late, only to see teeth glistening in hungry anticipation. He tried to flee, jumping to the right, but it was too late. Badger’s jaws closed around the striped lizard, and bit down.

It was almost too much for Bee to endure. She’d been taught to protect the hive from intruders at all costs. Always help in time of need. And, well, here was a time of need, for one individual, and her natural instincts were to help, but how? She had one weapon, her stinger, but every bee knew that to sting a foe was to give up your life. She didn’t want to die, yet there was a lizard, losing his life in a most horrific way, and it hurt her to hover there in safety while he was in mortal danger.

She heard the crunch, of teeth, grinding into flesh, and saw the badger shaking his head, back and forth, back and forth, intending to break the spine of the lizard, and cease its movements. That’s when she saw it, saw the lizard’s body torn in two, one piece flying in one direction, and the other piece flying in the other. It was such a sad thing to see.

The piece that landed on the hill-side of the badger lay still, unmoving, while the piece that landed on the creek-side of the badger wiggled, and jumped, and moved back and forth. The badger pounced on the moving part, intent on killing it, and ending its struggles. He bit, and chewed, and shook that little piece with ferocity and vengeance, until it ceased its movement. Bee watched it slide past the teeth, and into the throat of the badger, now gone. Gone. Lizard was no more.

Tears of sadness clouded her eyes, knowing that another critter had ended his journey on this place we call home, and his last thoughts were of horrifying fear, and his final sensations were of intense pain. It hurt her too much on the inside, and so she turned