yes, you can rely on me, Gondzor. Will Zornova be there too?” Zornova is our District Ranger; she’s a bison.
“Yes, she should return from Falls District in time for the meeting. You can depend on Zornova” Gondzor responded, as he began to turn the pages of the report with his left wing. Most Canada Geese are left-winged, you know.
The afternoon zipped by in a blur of activity. So after a quick meal I raced to the meeting. Oh, it was a regular knock and tumble session, that meeting was. The ungulates began chanting even before Gondzor arrived “give Thimblewicket the hoof! Send Thimblewicket to beg for tourists’ peanuts!” Poor Thimblewicket was so agitated that she kept running her tail through her forepaws as she sat with the other rodents in the balcony. The small rodents always sit in the balcony to avoid being trod upon.
As soon as Zornova, who had arrived in time, called the meeting to order Bugler demanded to be heard. “Yes Bugler, you may have your say. But come to the point and keep your voice down, I warn you, or I will have you thrown out on your antler.” Zornova would not be cowed by Bugler, one of the largest bull elk in the park.
So Bugler spoke for the ungulates, or at least many of them, “I tell you, Madam Ranger, we ungulates are the chief draw of the park. It is for us that the tourists come to Geyser District. It is to see our proud and majestic physiques and to take pictures of us with their cameras that they travel here from all over the country, from all parts of the world. I must tell you that we large ungulates bear the brunt of the workload. We must hoof it all over the district to be in meadow number twenty-three by dawn then we are expected to prance over to field number seventy-three until sunset.”
“Yes, Bugler’s right; too much is expected of us. Grimla, Romla, and the other mountain lions don’t have to put up with such a schedule. And then that tourist-brained Thimblewicket sends Udena, with her delicate lungs, and me into the midst of a blazing inferno!” interjected Tromengard.
Zornova, banging her hoof on the floor brought the meeting to order again, and just in time, for a chorus of high-pitched shrieking was issuing from the balcony. “Tromengard,” threatened Zornova, “you must wait your turn like everyone else. Now be silent or I will ask you to leave.”
Tromengard moved back, but then lay down on the floor in a sulk. Bugler continued, “we demand a ten percent pay increase, a six hour day, and a three week summer vacation for all the larger ungulates. If we don’t get what we demand then we will not work, we will call a strike!” Most of the larger ungulates rumbled their hooves on the floor, signifying their approval.
“Madam Ranger! Madam Ranger! I protest, I protest,” squeaked forth the voice of Thimblewicket, the golden-mantled ground squirrel. “These large ungulates always demand too much. They think they are all that the people come to see! I’ve had it up to my forepaws with their regal insolence. I move that we reject their request, and reject it immediately!”
Zornova responded, “Thank you for your views Thimblewicket, this is not the first time you have expressed them. Morgorgor you may now speak your mind. All the animals spread apart creating a wide opening as Morgorgor the porcupine shambled forward. They sought to avoid her sharp quills.
“Madam Ranger,” Morgorgor began “I move that you appoint a special committee to consider Bugler’s request.”
At this point Pabatackle, who had been spitting pinecone seeds at various animals in the audience shouted, “I second Morgorgor’s motion and request an end to this boring meeting.”
After the motion passed Thimblewicket and Zornova selected a committee made up of Morgorgor the porcupine, Pabatackle the otter, Rittiticket the ground squirrel, Romla the mountain lion, Keeble the mule deer, Brogoff the black bear, Quququic the warbler, and me Blinkers the raccoon, to make recommendations on wages, hours, and benefits. Zornova left us with the admonition. “Summer will soon be here and we cannot afford to have a strike after two years of strikes by the bison, antelope, and eagles. We must come up with a solution and we must do it quickly.” The committee was directed to report back within two weeks.
“Madam Ranger I object!” shouted Bugler. “There is no reason why we should wait so long for a silly report, when it is inevitable that we ungulates shall be vindicated and our request granted.”
“Silence!” thundered Zornova, “I warned you not to raise your voice Bugler. If you continue to shout, you will be thrown out.”
Bugler raised his antlers high above the crowd but did not speak, for he along with the others present glanced toward Alexia, the grizzly and the bison Tennial, the district sheriff and her deputy. Bugler, though puffed with pride, knew better than to confront Alexia.
Before any further fuel could be thrown into the heated meeting there was a sudden clamor. Cawdor, the raven, swooped down before those assembled and landed in front of Zornova and the unflappable Gondzor.
“Oh my, oh my, it’s such a tragedy! Oh horror, horror, horror, horror, horror, what a black day this is! This day will long be remembered as a day of infamy, incredible infamy!” jabbered the almost incoherent Cawdor.
“Cawdor calm yourself!” ordered Zornova.
“Do take a deep breath and then relay your message,” interjected Gondzor, in his most soothing deep voice.
Cawdor took a deep breath, but before he could speak he toppled over and fainted into a heap of black feathers. It was then that Wanda, who had followed Cawdor in through the upper window, flitted forward. In the midst of the present commotion no one had noticed the entrance of the diminutive Wanda, the brown moth.
“Madam Ranger,” said the sedate moth “may I be allowed to continue where Cawdor left off in his report?”
Yes Wanda, please put an end to our deep curiosity,” answered Zornova.
“Cawdor is correct,” said Wanda “there has been a great tragedy. A bus struck Dozema the skunk, and she is dead. Cawdor and I were on duty near meadow sixteen, where highway seventy-three crosses the river. Several of the deer were grazing nearby, so cars full of tourists had stopped by the roadside.”
“A people family got out of their car to take pictures of the deer, Freckles, Gambit, Swasher, and little Thicket, I believe,” Wanda continued. “While the two parents were taking pictures their small daughter wandered out into the highway, following Gimlet the butterfly; Gimlet had inadvertently caught her attention. At that moment a large bus came around the curve, and apparently the driver did not notice the child in the road, for he did not slow the bus to a stop.”
“Dozema, who had been eating pine nuts on the far side of the highway, was the only one paying attention. She knew that the little girl would be killed if she did not act. To save the child she ran towards the girl hissing and squeaking in a threatening manner. The frightened child turned and ran quickly back to her parents and out of the bus’s path. But Dozema was hit by the left front tire and tossed into the gravel by the side of the road.”
“The tourists left quickly; all were complaining of the bad smell. A man from another car, who had turned around in time to see Dozema’s heroic act, remarked to his wife as he got back in the car, ‘I didn’t know that skunks ever became rabid; how fortunate for the child that the beast was hit by the bus. What a stink, we’ve got to get out of here quickly!’”
A hush had fallen over those assembled for the meeting, as Wanda told her sad tale. Even Bugler let his proud neck droop; tears began to fall from many eyes. When Wanda finished her story Morgorgor shambled forward. “Madam
