The blind woodchuck and her cousin lay side by side on the flat rock in the early fall sunshine. Shirley’s feet pointed north next to the woodchuck’s head and the other set of paws went south, but their stomachs were side by side.
A deep growling came from the middle.
“Was that me or you?” asked Shirley.
“Does it matter? Hibernation is a just few weeks away and we are not ready for it.”
The end of the Fat Bear Contest signaled that all the animals should be reaching their peak sleep weight, but it had been a drought filled season and cicadas had been scarce. The woodchucks were hungry. They preferred the summers when the thirteen or seventeen year broods all emerged at once and some 20 million cicadas walked around looking for dates. They could be scooped up off the ground and eaten like popcorn. A few years ago, there had been so many that the woodchuck had made a centerpiece out of a wicker horn filled with the husks of the dead bugs. It was very festive.
“Did you know that the big years the cicada broods come out are always prime numbers?” mused Shirley. The woodchuck didn’t want to think about math even when she was full and just ignored her. Three raccoons ambled by and she waved.
“Hey, you guys!” she called, “That must have been some delicious cappuccino you had today!”
The raccoons looked confused. “Coffee gives me heartburn,” said one and the others nodded. “I just drink it after 7pm because I need it to be nocturnal.”
“You guys are so funny!” laughed Shirley. “You’ve got frothy milk all over your snouts!” The raccoons looked alarmed and rushed to a nearby brook to stare at their reflections.
“Oh shit,” said the first one, “that’s not from cappuccino.”
“I am foaming at the mouth,” moaned the second one, “That’s a bad sign.”
The woodchucks backed up as they realized what that could mean. “Now calm down —maybe it’s not what you’re thinking,” said Shirley. “Did you eat something that disagreed with you?”
“I had some pretty good sushi I found in the dirt on the forest floor,” said one raccoon.
“I had some of that, too! It had kind of a fishy, umami flavor and it was wrapped in seaweed,” chimed in another.
“I had a Taco Bell Chalupa Supreme I stole off of someone’s picnic blanket.” The third raccoon hung his head in shame.
“Dude! That’s what it was! You can’t be eating junk like that!” scolded the woodchuck.
“Wait a second,” said Shirley. “I heard that the forest rangers were trying to control rabies in wild animals and developed a vaccine that was being dropped in the woods in small fish cubes. When you eat them, it pops a liquid center filled with medicine and you cannot get the disease! The foam is just a side effect.”
The raccoons were horrified. “I don’t want to be vaccinated! My children will be born with a tail!”
“Of course they’ll be born with a tail—you’re a raccoon,” pointed out Shirley.
“But they’ll be mutants! Or have OCD and continually wash their paws! Or they’ll be . . .” the raccoon pointed at the two animals “. . . woodchucks!”
“They can’t make me wear a mask!” shouted one defiantly, as the other raccoon clutched his arm and said he couldn’t lift it.
“You didn’t get a shot; you ate a fish cube! This is a good thing— it protects you. You know who doesn’t want you to get this vaccine? That weirdo who collects raccoon penises! Now get out of here; oh, and Taco Bell, go eat some sushi. A chalupa is not going to keep you from getting rabies.”
The raccoons scampered off, arguing about the health benefits of tacos vs. quesadillas. The woodchuck’s stomach growled again, and she tried not to think about burritos.
“I forgot to tell you about this huge rock I found,” mentioned the woodchuck, not talking about nachos. “I was out wandering, and I found this really tall hunk of stone. I thought if I climbed it I might be able to spot some cicadas, but it was way more than a couple of chucks high. It was slippery and had all these weird angles jutting out. But I found a way inside and get this!—it was hollow! There was some kind of ancient cut out petrographs at the top, and you could see the whole prairie for miles and miles.” She showed Shirley the picture she had taken on her phone.
“I know what that is!” said Shirley. “It’s the new building that houses memories of what this country used to be like before the weasel took over! Those are not prehistoric carvings— they are letters from an inspirational quote that is at the top.”
“No, I’m pretty sure you’re wrong,” said the woodchuck. “That rock looks like it’s been there a thousand years. I think those holes were from the thrashing tails of dinosaurs.”
Shirley did not consider herself very literary but she knew how to read. She had just finished Yesteryear, and wholeheartedly agreed with the author Ann Patchett who had said: “I am not the audience for this book.”
She thought about arguing but decided it wasn’t worth the energy. She had been very moved by the building and the surrounding areas; it made her tear up when she remembered what the meadow had been like only ten years ago.
“Wait a minute!” Shirley snapped her talons. “There are beautiful gardens and trees all around that big rock. I’ll bet they dropped some of that fish sushi in that area as well. It works on all kinds of animals. We can get dinner as well as a rabies vaccine!”
“Can I get a burrito there?” asked the woodchuck.
“Sure,” said Shirley, who was not above a little fib to get her cousin protected. “There’s a delicious restaurant there—it’s called TacObama Bell.”
• • •
There is NO co-ordinated NO KINGS March on October 17th—instead look for smaller rallies and other Day of Service projects happening in your town as we prepare for the November 3 election. And just in case things go off the rails, here is some important information about what we can do. (Also, I agree with Shirley and Ann Patchett about Yesteryear.)
