The Claustrophobic Gopher
For the Munchkins
“If you have a dream and ambition, then go for it.”
Eddie the Eagle
A collaborative story written by the Weeden & Minor families during our 2020 COVID quarantine.
Contents
Gopher Junior (‘GJ’)
“Hurry, hurry, GJ, we’re not safe until we’re underground.”
“But, Mommy.”
“Please realize how dangerous it is for us gophers. Bigger animals want to eat us, and the gardener sets traps to catch us.”
“But, Mommy.”
“Here, now quickly, down our gopher hole.”
“But, Mommy, our home is so dark and tight. Why can’t I stay outside? I want to breathe the fresh air and feel the sun’s warmth!”
“No more buts, GJ, unless it is your little butt in front of me running down the hole. Now!”
Once inside, Mommy plugs the hole, and they are safe. She loves her tiny tunnel home. It is right below a vegetable garden, and, in fact, some of the vegetables actually grow down into their front foyer. When Mommy or GJ crawls through, they nibble a bite of a carrot, a beet, or a potato. They call it ‘tuber eats.’
However, sometimes they like food other than carrots and beets, so they emerge from their tunnel to the greater garden above. Their little garden would be an Eden except for a gardener who doesn’t like sharing it with the gopher family. He lives in a nearby white house with a tool shed to the side, which contains many tricky traps to catch gophers.
Mommy has repeatedly explained to GJ that he must never eat anything that isn’t growing on and attached to an actual plant.
While Mommy and GJ were in the garden, they discovered the peas were ripe. Each of them stuck many peas into their pocket cheeks on each side of their mouths.
In their jet-black tunnel, GJ feels the entrance to the pantry with his sensitive whiskers, and Mommy and GJ take the wonderful ripe peas they’ve gathered from their pocket cheeks.
The first couple of peas pop out onto the pile they’ve made from previous trips. However, the peas GJ has jammed into the back of his cheek and needs Mommy’s help extracting them. Mommy then feels the pile with her whiskers and squeaks, “At last, we have enough peas to last us through the winter and won’t need to make any more dangerous trips outside. For the next couple of months, we can nestle and sleep in our cozy little home.”
Each takes a pea and crawls into their little dining room. There, they gnaw on their delicious dinner, but each is chewing their own separate thoughts. Mommy is relieved they have plenty of food for the winter and will no longer risk outside trips. She smiles and yawns, just thinking about the enjoyable months of eating and sleeping that lie ahead.
GJ chews on his pea but is sad because he will no longer see wonderful outdoor sights, instead of nothing but black, and smell the fragrant flowers instead of the moldy smell of the tunnel. He begins to feel the darkness and tightness of their tunnel. His heart pounds, he sweats, he shakes, and then he says to himself (but out loud), “Oh, I wish I could just play all day long in the sun.”
His comment stirs Mommy from her thoughts. “What did you say? Do you want to play outside? Who do you think you are, a bird or a squirrel?”
GJ realizes that his secret hope has been disclosed.
“Yes, Mommy, I love being outdoors. I don’t like being trapped in our black, damp, tight little tunnel.”
“But GJ, you are a gopher.”
“But can’t I be a gopher and live outside?”
“No, gophers live underground. That is what gophers do.”
“Maybe I am a gopher, but that doesn’t mean I have to be a gopher,” GJ blurts out, not quite knowing what he means.
Mommy can’t see GJ, but since they are both tightly jammed into the dining room, she senses his tense nervousness and discomfort.
“Now, GJ, you’ve had a long day, and you’ll feel better if you get a good night’s sleep. In the morning, you’ll realize that you like being safely underground. Go to the bathroom and brush your two front teeth.”
GJ looks around, but it doesn’t matter, as the dining room and their entire home are as black as midnight. Only by swishing his tail back and forth can he tell the size of the room. Why does he have to live in a tunnel? Why can’t he be like the birds, always in the sun and wind, and have adventures in the big outside world?
The bathroom is the lowest room in their tunnel home. Even though GJ is a young gopher, he still can’t turn around in the tight tunnels, so he backs down the twisty tunnel and feels the entrance to the bathroom with his sensitive tail whiskers.
After he’s done, he crawls back, this time crawling forward, to his room and curls up to sleep.
But GJ isn’t happy. He feels trapped in his tight room. His heart still races, and he can’t breathe the stuffy air. The walls close in on him even though his room can’t get any smaller.
“Why can’t I stretch out, run, and play like the other animals? Why can’t I climb the garden fence and jump off? Why can’t I fly like the birds and feel free?”
GJ hears his mother come up the tunnel and curl up in the room next to his. Soon comes the soft, regular rhythm of Mommy’s breathing.
But GJ can’t fall asleep. He tries to stretch, but there is no room. It is even hard for him to turn into another position. Can you imagine how GJ feels? Have you ever hidden in a box or a small closet?
He must do something. He pokes his head out into the tunnel. His whiskers feel the wet wall on the opposite side. He listens for his Mommy, but she remains fast asleep. He needs more room; he needs more air. He can’t be stuck underground for the winter. Quietly, he puts one foot out into the tunnel, then another. Without knowing what he’s doing, he goes, oh so quietly, past the entrance to Mommy’s room.
His feet continue up the tunnel, past the dining room, along the upper section where the vegetables poke through the ceiling, and past the pantry entrance. He now finds himself right before the dirt plug separating him from the outside. He can hardly breathe but knows that if he goes further, Mommy will be very mad when she finds out. His whiskers brush up against the plug, then his nose pushes and, without meaning to, opens the plug, and the incredible freshness of outside air enters his little nose.
“Oh, what a relief to breathe fresh air!” He feels himself begin to relax, and there, before him, is light. Not the sun’s daylight but the moon’s nightlight and crisp, cool air. GJ has never seen the moon before, and it provides a magical glow over the garden.
“Since no one is about, I can stay here for just a few minutes. I’ll then feel better and return to my little room. Mommy will never know.”
GJ sniffs the air. He smells the ripe peas and tomatoes, but there is an even sweeter scent coming from a patch several yards away. He looks around and sees nothing moving, so he carefully crawls towards the fragrance.
Before him are big, red fruits, and he takes a small nibble. The taste of the strawberries is divine. He takes another bite, and then another, and soon, his little tummy is sticking out as far as it can go. He lies on his back, and his tiny paws come together behind his head. He looks up at the moon and stars. What a glorious feeling to breathe deeply and to extend just as far as his little body can stretch.
“At last!” he squeaks.
Morning
“Caw, caw.”
The noise startles GJ awake, and he panics. He has slept in the strawberry patch all night, and instead of the moon, the sun shines through the strawberry leaves. GJ knows he is in trouble.
GJ looks around and sees one fat pea pod left on a nearby pea plant. An idea comes to him.
“I’ll tell Mommy I’m a growing gopher and thought we should have more food for the winter.”
GJ stretches his legs and walks towards the peapod in the early morning light. But just then, another, ‘Caw, caw.’ A crow lands between GJ and the pod. The crow tilts her head and looks at GJ, crawling towards her. She then turns and tilts her head in the other direction to see the luscious peapod on the vine.
Quickly, Crow snaps the stem, pecks open the pod, and starts to eat the enclosed peas.
“Stop!” GJ calls out. “That’s my peapod.”
Crow turns to look at GJ.
“Let’s see, isn’t it, first come, first served? Or do you prefer that the early bird catches the pea?”
GJ notices that Crow is bigger and has a very sharp beak, which, although busy eating peas now, might well be used on him.
As she finishes the last pea, Crow licks her beak and comments, “They were delicious, so sweet, and so cold.”
She then cocks her head and asks, “Who are you?”
GJ looks at the plant, hoping another pod may be hidden behind a leaf.
“Now, what will I tell Mommy?” he moans.
“Aren’t gophers supposed to stay in their tunnels? Isn’t it dangerous for you to be out?” Crow hops over to GJ, who fears that Crow will give him a peck.
“I want to find more peas to store in our pantry,” he responds.
GJ has seen crows in the garden but never actually talked to one. He is torn between retreating to his tunnel or staying outside for a little longer.
“Would you look to see if the gardener is coming?” asks GJ.
Crow flaps her wings and lands atop a garden fence post.
“Nope, no one. Still too early for the gardener to check on his vegetables.”
“Wow, I wish I could flap my arms like that and fly. Oh, how free I would feel. I don’t want to be a gopher and live in a dark, moldy tunnel.”
Crow caws a laugh. “Well, you are a gopher and should like living in tunnels.”
“Well, I don’t. I get short of breath and panic that the walls will collapse upon me.”
“That doesn’t make any sense. Even if they collapse, you can dig yourself out with your sharp claws. That’s what you do if you’re a gopher.”
“Well, maybe I shouldn’t be a gopher. I wish I were a crow and could fly anywhere I want. I would fly so high up in the air that no one could see me.”
Suddenly, Crow tilts her head and turns her beady eye towards the gardener’s house.
“Oh, no. Here comes the gardener with his sharp rake. Get back in and plug your hole. I’ll caw when the coast is clear.”
GJ shudders at the thought of going back into the hole and, worse, closing off the fresh, outside air and wonderful sunlight. But he does go back in, closes the plug, and, in the dark, again feels the dreadful pressure arising in his chest. He listens, hears Mommy’s deep breathing, and squeaks a silent ‘whew.’
The gardener sees the crow and runs clumsily toward her in his big, black boots. As he does so, he raises a sharp rake.
Crow knows she can get away, but she wants to have fun with the gardener. She flies back and forth, always staying just out of reach of the rake. The gardener takes one swipe, which comes very close to Crow’s tail feathers. At this, Crow yelps, ‘Caw, caw.’
GJ has no idea what is happening in the garden, so he thinks this is Crow’s all-clear signal. He knows this is the moment that he should quietly go down to his room and dream about last night’s adventure, but his little body begins to shake, and then he knows he can’t. GJ pushes the plug aside and runs right into the boot of the gardener. The gardener looks down and, in a mean voice, says, “I’ve got you now!”
He then plants his other boot right over the gopher hole, leaving GJ nowhere to run for safety.
“Run, run,” Crow screams.
GJ runs towards the strawberry patch as fast as he has ever run in his life. The points of the rake come down hard and just miss his rear. GJ has never been so scared.
Crow swoops down and knocks off the gardener’s hat, causing him to try to catch his hat with one hand and swing his rake with the other. Crow readies another attack and cocks a beady eye toward the strawberries. She sees that GJ has hidden under the leaves of a big plant.
The gardener looks around for GJ and is mad that these two troublesome animals appear to be working together.
“Time to set another trap,” he says to himself and heads back to his tool shed.
“Too close; way too close,” Crow says in relief.
“I can’t, I shouldn’t. Why? Why?” GJ cries. “I’m a gopher. Why am I so afraid of dark, tight tunnels?”
“Hmmm, yes,” Crow replies. “It certainly is a problem. Your Mommy isn’t afraid, and big animals like my friend Mr. Bear are not afraid. I think you have what is called a phobia.”
“Pho, pho, phobia? What’s that?” GJ stutters a squeak.
“A phobia is when you’re afraid of something. Let me think…..there is anthropophobia, which is a fear of people. We wild animals all have that one.”
“That’s a really big word. Why does it start with ant when it is about people?” GJ asks.
Crow doesn’t respond and continues to think. Then there is acrophobia, which is the fear of heights. No, what is the other one? Oh, I remember, claustrophobia, the fear of dark, tight spaces.”
“Clawstropho… something? It’s true; I certainly don’t like dark tunnels. Well, maybe that’s it.” GJ mulls both the big word and the idea that there is a word for his problem in his little brain.
Crow caw-caw laughs. “This is really very funny, a claustrophobic gopher!”
“Please don’t laugh.” GJ is both angry and embarrassed. “I don’t want to be afraid.”
“Hey, maybe I should call you GoPhobie? Caw-caw,” Crow continues, finding this very, very amusing.
“Oh, please stop,” GJ pleads again. “I wish you wouldn’t make this harder for me than it is.”
“Or how about we shorten your name from gopher to GoPho?”
GJ decides he must change the awful direction of the conversation.
“You said something about your friend Mr. Bear. Is he truly not afraid?” GJ asks.
Crow stops to remember her previous comment: “Mr. Bear? Oh, Mr. Bear is very brave and very smart. He lives atop that mountain,” says Crow, pointing to a mountain rising several miles away. “If anyone can tell you how not to be afraid, it is Mr. Bear.”
“You think he might know how to make me unafraid?”
Crow tilts her head and focuses one beady eye on GJ. “Of course, he is also a very wise animal.”
“Please take me to him. Please, please!” Though GJ fears leaving his Mommy and the garden, he knows he must find help. He is too scared to live underground but doesn’t know if he can live in the big, wide world.
“Sure. See that big tree on top of the mountain?” Crow points a wing. To GJ, it’s terrifying and a long way away.
“Well, Mr. Bear’s cave is within the roots of that ancient White Oak tree.”
“Oh, Crow, take me to see Mr. Bear. I can’t; I can’t go back into the tunnel. If I do, I know Mommy won’t let me leave again until next spring. That thought is just too frightening.”
“Sure, I want to visit him anyway, so follow me. Are you sure you can keep up?”
GJ stuffs two large strawberries into each cheek pocket and emerges determined to cure his clausto….whatever the word is.
“I am so afraid,” GJ says again to himself.
The Forest
The first part of the journey is across a wide meadow. Crow flies from bush to bush. Some are elderberry and some blueberry bushes. As Crow waits for GJ, she snacks on a couple of berries each. GJ runs as fast as his little legs can carry him. And sadly, as soon as GJ reaches whatever bush Crow is on and tries to catch his breath, Crow announces that they must hurry and keep going.
When they are almost at the foot of the mountain, a passing hawk circles several times overhead with its sharp eyes; it sees our little gopher running through the grass. It then sets its sights and swoops with tremendous speed towards GJ. But Crow looks up and sees the attack. She quickly covers GJ with one of her wings. The hawk pulls up short and screeches his anger at Crow.
“That was close,” says Crow, “but we must hurry. We’re almost to the trees at the foot of Mr. Bear’s mountain.”
GJ enters the forest and is now safe from high-flying hawks, but he is not sure what other forest creatures may want a gopher for dinner. They start to climb up the steep slope. Crow continues to hop from limb to limb, waiting impatiently for GJ to catch up.
After an hour, GJ is tired and confused.
“Are we going the right way?” GJ asks. “I am very tired.”
“I think so,” responds Crow.
GJ worries, “You can’t see very far in this forest, and every direction looks the same. I hope we are headed in the right direction.”
Crow looks around. “Yes, the trees look the same, but I’m pretty sure we are on the right path.”
“Please make the path as straight as you can to the top. I’m not sure how much longer I can run. Would you fly up over the trees to make sure?” asks GJ.
“It’s okay,” comments Crow. “I can figure out the right direction from down here.”
“But wouldn’t it be easier from above the trees?”
“Oh, I don’t think that is necessary.”
“I would feel much better if I knew,” says GJ, “as every extra step is hard for me.”
“It’s very high up there,” caws Crow.
“Up where? Above the trees?” GJ stops to look at Crow.
“Yes, the trees are very high, and it is a long way down from up there,” hesitates Crow.
“Well, it is for me,” GJ observes, “but you have wings.”
“Well, yes.”
“Are you afraid of flying up that high?”
“Er, uh, well, maybe a little.”
GJ starts to laugh.
“Well, this certainly puts the pea in the other cheek. Let me think; didn’t you say a fear of heights is called acro, acro, yes, acrophobia? Yes, that’s right.”
“Oh, no, that’s not it,” counters Crow.
“And you gave me such a hard time with my claustrophobia. Remember, GoPho? GoPhobie? This makes us one very strange pair of travelers.”
“I don’t want to discuss it.” Crow caws sharply.
“Looks like we both may need Mr. Bear’s help. But am I the only one who will admit that I’m afraid? Say you have acrophobia.”
“No, I don’t. I just don’t like flying too high. It’s not the same thing.”
“It is.”
“It’s not.”
“It is.”
“It’s not.”
“Admit you have acrowphobia,” GJ laughs at his joke as Crow gets mad, turns, and flies silently ahead.
Sam Martin
Crow and GJ continue their trek up the mountain. One travels easily from branch to branch, and the other steps painfully over rocks and around trees. Still, GJ is happy; he is out in the big world, though he does have just the slightest feeling that there is something strangely comforting about nestling into his little dark bedroom off the main tunnel and just eating and sleeping all winter.
“I have to rest,” GJ wheezes, gasping for breath.
As GJ sits on a little patch of soft moss, Crow flies ahead. Not far away, she finds a man sitting quietly with eyes closed and back against a tree. Not sleeping, maybe meditating. He has long black hair and wears a leather jacket and military camouflage pants. Crow tilts her head and watches him.
GJ is uneasy being alone in the woods with no idea which way to go. He knows Mr. Bear’s mountaintop cave is up, up, up the slope, so he proceeds in whichever direction leads him uphill.
He, too, soon comes upon the quiet man and sees his friend Crow above. GJ is afraid and wants to continue, but the man hears GJ’s soft, muffled rustle in oak leaves. He opens his eyes.
“Well, well, a gopher on our sacred mountain. Isn’t this terribly rocky ground for you?”
GJ freezes. The only other person he has encountered is the gardener, and Mommy always warned him that humans are dangerous and set very tricky traps.
“What kind of a trap is this?” GJ asks himself.
The man pulls out a small container and throws GJ a grape. It rolls to a stop at GJ’s feet.
“It isn’t attached to a live plant,” GJ thinks to himself, but he whiffs its delicious smell and asks Crow.
“Is this a trap? I hope not because I truly would like to eat something as juicy and delicious as this grape.”
“Nah, it’s safe,” caws Crow.
GJ takes a bite and finds it is the most delicious thing he has ever eaten. Even better than the strawberries. He savors each and every bite.
The man sees GJ talking to Crow. “Oh, and a crow. Are you two traveling together?”
Crow replies, “Yes, GJ, the gopher, has claustrophobia, and we are going up to see Mr. Bear, who lives on top of this mountain. He may be able to help as he is the bravest and wisest animal we know.”
The man laughs, but it isn’t a laugh intended to make fun of GJ, but a warm laugh as if to show that the man knows all about GJ’s fear. He then says, “I, too, have claustrophobia. I, too, am scared of dark tunnels. But, unlike a gopher, I don’t have to live in them.”
GJ looks up from his grape. “You’re afraid of tunnels?”
“Oh, very. I also fear loud sounds, flashing lights, and most other things. You see, I have something called PTSD or Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. At least, that is what the Army calls it. I am a Native American and volunteered to serve in the Army’s Special Forces in our war in Afghanistan. Do you animals know that soldiers from the United States went halfway around the world to fight?”
Both GJ and Crow shake their heads. Neither even knows what an army is.
“Well,” the man continues, “I have special wilderness skills and, as a Native American, wanted to help our country after 9/11. Do you know what 9/11 was?”
Again, both shake their heads.
“No matter, though, what does matter is that they assigned me to go into caves and try to find the enemy soldiers hiding in the mountains of Afghanistan. Maybe they thought that living in the wilderness, I would know how to go into caves where a bear might hide. But, anyway, it was terrifying as you never knew what might happen. Would there be an enemy with a gun? Did they booby-trap the cave with something else, like a bomb? Well, in one of the caves, I stepped on a mine, which is like a bomb, and it badly hurt my leg.”
The man lifts his crutch, which lies next to him.
“The explosion and the shock gave me this thing called PTSD, which means that I fear just about everything. I call it omniphobia – a fear of almost everything – but that isn’t a real word, though my illness is very real to me. At least I’m not afraid of gophers and crows. I come to his mountain to rest, meditate, and try to become healthy again. You see, the army doctors gave me all types of pills and other treatments, but I didn’t get better. In fact, I got worse. So, I left the hospital and came home to these mountains where I grew up as a boy. I began to feel better and now send my heart rate and other stress and nervous information to my doctors. They are surprised how much better I am getting just by walking and sitting quietly in my ancient sacred forest.”
Crow and GJ look around and see what a beautiful, ancient forest surrounds them.
“Well, I had better head down the mountain as I have an important tribal meeting that I must attend. It was nice to meet you two.”
The man hobbles upon his one good leg and puts the crutch under the opposite shoulder. Crow and GJ watch him walk slowly down the mountain and then turn in the opposite direction. GJ crawls along but is very deep in thought. What are these new ideas? Army, war, bombs, 9/11? Why did people do these things? This world is much more complicated than his life of going in and out of his tunnel. He did not know that humans could be afraid, too.
It is late afternoon, and GJ desperately needs another rest.
But Crow objects, “We’re almost there. Hurry. We must get to Bear’s house before nightfall. There are too many dangerous animals in the forest. I can protect you from a hawk, but I can’t protect you from a bobcat.”
“Bobcat? What’s that?” asks GJ, since he has never been in the wild before, and the only danger he knows is the gardener.
“It is a mean and sneaky cat. It hides in trees, then pounces down and eats small animals like you.”
GJ does not like this description at all. When gophers travel, they generally only look down at the ground. GJ now worries a mean bobcat might be above him and looks up as he runs. Often, he trips on small rocks, bangs his sensitive nose, and squeaks out a very loud ‘ow.’
Exhaustion creeps into every muscle of GJ’s body. The steep path and the trees appear to go on forever. GJ misses Mommy and, he hates to admit, his safe, cool little tunnel with a nice pile of sweet peas.
“I don’t think I can go any farther,” he says, stops running, and begins walking.
Crow doesn’t want to leave GJ alone but knows she has to do something. She certainly can’t carry him. She cocks her head to one side, which is what crows do when they need to think. A very soft song drifts between the trees and up to her branch as she does.
“What’s that?” Crow asks herself out loud.
“There must be angels coming for my little body,” says GJ. I think I am one goner gopher.”
Crow flies down and places a big maple leaf with its hand-like shape over GJ.
“Hide under this until I get back,” and then she flies towards the music.
A couple of hundred yards away, Crow sees a beautiful 14-year-old girl dressed in soft leather pants and jacket, singing softly as she walks. She travels as only Native Americans can, with feet that understand the earth and plants of her ancestral lands.
Crow flies to her and lands on a branch just in front of her.
“Caw, caw-caw, caw,” she explains, pointing her wing towards where GJ hides.
Purple Martin, for that is the girl’s name, stretches out her arm and invites Crow to hop on.
Crow lands and, with her black bill, rubs Purple’s cheek and again points towards GJ.
“What is over there? You want me to come?” she asks.
“Caw, caw.”
Purple Martin silently follows Crow’s flight from tree to tree and then to the ground, where Crow takes the maple leaf from a now sleeping GJ.
“Well, whom do we have here?”
Purple knows that you don’t pick up a sleeping animal, or you will badly scare it, so she says some words in her native language that are meant to be spoken when they want to wake up an animal. As you know, English does not have words we can use when talking with animals.
GJ opens one eye and shakes, for, as we know, gophers are nervous around people. But Purple Martin’s words are so sweet and assuring that GJ relaxes and looks up at her. Like the man, he senses she is a different type of person than the gardener.
“May I pick you up?” Purple asks, using her special words. She then slides her hand under GJ and lifts him up to her eye level.
“Would you like to be carried?” she asks.
GJ knows he is safe. He had expected angels to appear, but not real ones like her.
A Purple Martin
Purple turns to Crow, “Where are you two going?”
“To see Mr. Bear.”
“Oh, what good fortune. That is where I am headed – up to the big White Oak on top of the mountain. But first, I need to find my father. He comes up here to the mountain to restore his health, as he was injured in the war. But I don’t see him where he usually sits. He needs to attend a very important meeting.”
“We just spoke with him,” says Crow, “and he has already left to get ready.”
“Oh, good,” says Purple, “he often forgets things since returning from the Army. But why are you two going up to see Mr. Bear?”
“GJ is afraid of dark, underground tunnels, and tight spaces, which isn’t good for a gopher. See, he is claustrophobic. Since Mr. Bear lives in a cave and is very wise, he may be able to find a cure for GJ.”
GJ is feeling better now and ventures out a loud, “ahem.”
“Ahem,” again.
And again, adding, “And how about you, Crow?”
Purple looks at GJ, still in her hands, and then at Crow.
Crow blurts out, “Okay, okay, and I’m afraid of flying high. GJ, I’ll admit it now. I have acrophobia.”
Purple laughs, but Crow and GJ look at her because they don’t think it’s funny.
“Everyone and every animal,” Purple shares, “is afraid of something. You shouldn’t be afraid of being afraid.”
“Everyone?” GJ gasps. “Even Mr. Bear?”
“Yes, but he’s afraid of different things. In fact, the reason I must meet him is to tell him news about the thing he is most afraid to hear.”
“What’s that?” GJ asks for he is surprised to find out now that even Mr. Bear is afraid.
“You’ll see,” replies Purple.
Mr. Bear
GJ loves the arrangement for the remainder of his trip. He sits on Purple’s soft shoulder and can see all the wonders of the forest. From this height, he sees the forest flowers, smells the resiny scent of the evergreen trees, and admires the views as they approach the summit. As a gopher, he has never seen views before.
He then sees an ancient tree at the top of the mountain. It is a White Oak over 400 years old and alive when only Native Americans lived on these lands.
GJ sees just how high they are and how far they can see. He squints his little eyes as his eyesight is not very good, but he sees his little garden with the gardener’s white house across a meadow. And he can almost see the small mound with his gopher home underneath.
He then thinks that Mommy must miss him and that she may be afraid that something terrible has happened. He hopes Mommy hasn’t searched for him and risked getting caught in one of the gardener’s tricky traps.
He turns around on Purple Martin’s shoulder to see a big cave, and from that cave emerges the biggest animal he has ever seen.
“Machq, Machq,” Purple calls out, for this is the word for bear in her language.
Mr. Bear stands up and happily greets GJ. GJ can’t believe that an animal this large is afraid of anything.
“Oh, I’m so glad you’re home,” Purple says. She walks over to some rocks that Mr. Bear uses for a patio outside his cave.
“First,” she says, for she is very polite, “let me introduce you to my two friends, Crow and GJ, the gopher.”
Caw, caw-caw-caw,” Crow says, as this is the formal crow greeting.
GJ isn’t sure whether gophers have a formal greeting, so he just squeaks.
“Purple Martin, I am always afraid when I see a human, but you are always a joy,” says Bear warmly.
“But I bring bad news and no joy,” Purple replies. Our tribal elders have signed a deal with a developer to build a gambling casino right here on our sacred mountain. The builders will come with bulldozers to flatten the entire mountain top.”
In sad disbelief, Mr. Bear looks at Purple and then at the 400-year-old oak tree under which he lives. He then nudges Purple with his nose, and she, in turn, holds his massive head. Unfortunately, this puts Mr. Bear’s teeth very close to GJ, and as they cry together, GJ shakes with fear.
“What can we do?” Mr. Bear finally asks.
“I don’t know. I hope we can find some way to stop the destruction, but the developers are offering the tribal council a lot of money to lease a casino on tribal lands. My father will speak at a tribal council meeting, hoping to convince the tribe that this mountain and these trees are a sacred trust of our tribe. However, the tribal council says they need the money a gambling casino will bring. With this money, the council hopes to provide education and healthcare to all of the members of the tribe. I know the developers are telling the tribal leaders everything they want to hear, but this land cannot be used for anything as wasteful and inappropriate as gambling. Many, many generations of our ancestors have lived on these lands and are buried in this sacred soil. Their spirits are part of the sap that rises in and nourishes these trees.”
“Purple,” asks Bear, “when will all of this happen?”
“The developers are in a rush as they know that once they flatten the top of this mountain, it will be too late for the Tribal Council to change its mind. My father is asking that the council delay the bulldozer a couple of days so that he can find others in the tribe to support him. He thinks he can get everyone to agree, but is running out of time.”
GJ has never heard about problems as big as this one. His life was always so small and tight, just like his tunnel. He wants to help, but what can a small gopher do? He looks at Mr. Bear, then at Crow, and then at Purple. All share worried looks on their faces!
The Bulldozer
After telling Mr. Bear the bad news, Purple heads down the mountain to get an update from her father on the council meeting. Mr. Bear is very upset, and both Crow and GJ know that this is not a good time to ask him about cures for their problems. Mr. Bear shares some nuts with both friends, and they have a quiet evening with the sun setting amid brilliant colors in the west.
Crow flies up to a low branch to sleep, and Mr. Bear invites GJ into his cave. Wouldn’t you think GJ would be afraid to be both in Bear’s cave and sleeping with an animal so much bigger than himself? But GJ finds there is something very comforting about Mr. Bear’s presence. GJ nestles under one of Mr. Bear’s large arms and quickly and quietly falls asleep.
Early the next morning, Purple Martin runs back up the mountain to Mr. Bear’s cave. Behind her, trying to keep pace with his crutch, is her father, Sam Martin – the same man Crow and GJ met the previous day.
“Mr. Bear,” Purple cries out, “the Tribal Council was pushed hard by the developer at the meeting. He threatened the council by saying that if he didn’t start immediately, he wouldn’t finish the foundation before winter. If there are any delays, the tribe will not receive the casino money before next summer.
Sam adds, “I just need one or two more days to get a petition signed by most of the tribe to stop this development. I think that should change the council’s mind, but if not, I have other options with my doctors. I just wish I had more time.”
Bear, Purple, and Sam hug each other as Crow and GJ look on. But all are suddenly startled by a distant engine roar coming from the end of the road, a half-mile below the top of the mountain.
Slowly, the noise grows louder until they see a huge, mean-looking bulldozer come to a ledge several hundred feet from the top of the mountain. A developer with a large paper plan in hand approaches the bulldozer driver. The driver turns off the engine, and the two start to walk around. They take turns looking at the design plan and pointing to different features on the mountaintop, including, sadly, the ancient White Oak.
Purple, Sam, and Bear hide behind some Mountain Azalea bushes. Crow doesn’t need to hide and watches from a low branch of the oak tree. GJ can’t see what is happening until Purple lifts him onto her shoulders.
The developer and the driver walk around to the other side of the mountain. When they disappear, Crow tilts her head and looks up at the top of the White Oak and then at the bulldozer. She then flies to the oak tree’s very top and grabs an acorn in her sharp beak. Then, with incredible skill, she glides to where the now silent bulldozer stands and drops it straight down into its upright exhaust pipe.
Back and forth, Crow flies between the top of the oak and the bulldozer until the developer and driver reemerge from the other side of the mountain.
The two men shake hands.
“Okay,” the developer announces in a voice loud enough for the friends to hear, “it’s time to flatten this mountain top. This will be one beautiful site for a gambling casino!”
The driver, a big, heavy-set man, pulls himself up onto the bulldozer’s seat. He leans forward and turns the key.
The bulldozer starts up with a deafening roar, which brings smiles of satisfaction to the driver and the developer but dismay to our assembled friends.
The driver engages the gears, and the tracks on each side of the bulldozer begin to wrench the earth. The lowered front blade and the tracks tear apart plants and small trees, leaving only devastation behind the bulldozer.
But then the engine sputters and trembles. A loud grinding noise is heard, not the grinding of plants and trees, but a sound coming directly from the engine. The engine coughs, sputters, and gasps. The driver madly adjusts the knobs of the bulldozer, but after one deafening bang, the bulldozer spews out a large plume of black smoke, and the engine stops.
“What’s the matter?” the developer screams.
“I don’t know,” the driver responds. He awkwardly gets his large body out of the soft seat and climbs down. He then goes over to the engine and looks at different valves and wires. When he climbs back into the driver’s seat and turns the key, the engine whines feebly but refuses to start.
“I thought you said this bulldozer was in excellent condition!” yells the developer.
“It was.”
“Well, it’s not.”
“I don’t know what happened.”
“Fix it now!”
“We’re going to need a mechanic,” the driver says, and with that news, the developer throws his site plan down on the ground.
“How could this happen? I can’t afford any delays. Don’t you know that some people are trying to stop this project? Didn’t you check the engine before coming up here?”
“It was in perfect working order this morning,” responds the driver.
The driver takes out his cell phone, calls for a mechanic, and says, “The mechanic will be here in an hour.”
Everyone waits. The driver returns to his comfortable seat and falls asleep while the developer paces back and forth with the plans in his hands. He never actually looks around to see the towering trees or the white blossoms of the Mountain Azaleas. Mr. Bear tells stories of the days when only the animals and the tribes knew this land.
An hour later, the mechanic shows up but only brings a couple of tools in his bag as he had to carry them from the end of the road. He opens the engine and asks the driver to start it. The mechanic adjusts some levers but then throws up his hands.
“Something has gotten into the engine, and I’ll have to take it apart. I don’t have the right tools, but I can have them here in the morning.”
Purple and her friends watch these events from behind their Azalea. They hear the discussion and watch as the mechanic, the driver, and the developer head back down the mountain in terrible moods. On the other hand, the friends’ mood is very relieved and upbeat.
“I’m going back to work on getting the signatures,” says Sam. “This extra day has given us a chance. By the way, what happened?”
GJ, who is generally afraid to speak, offers, “We have Crow to thank. Crow overcame her fear of heights and flew to the very top of the White Oak to grab acorns. She then dropped the acorns one by one into the bulldozer’s exhaust pipe, which jammed the engine. Those acorns caused the engine to fail.”
Everyone looks at GJ and then at Crow. Crow beams as she is thanked and congratulated by everyone.
“I will help you with the signatures, Father,” offers Purple, “but we have to hurry.”
As they walk down from the mountain, they stop, high-five, and laugh at the stranded bulldozer.
“That was very brave of you, Crow,” offers Mr. Bear.
“Yeah,” replies Crow, “I didn’t, you know, even think about how high I was flying. The acorns were at the top of the oak tree, and I just had to find a way to stop the bulldozer.”
That night, Bear, Crow, and GJ sit on the rocks outside Bear’s cave, eating berries and nuts. They talk and laugh about the day. They make fun of the developer throwing down his plans in frustration, and Mr. Bear, with his large body, mocks the driver getting in and out of the cab of his bulldozer. They make fun, but underneath these actions lies a fear and awareness that the developer and his driver will be back in the morning. None of the friends slept well that night.
GJ’s Helps Out
Early the next morning, the driver and the mechanic arrive with the tools necessary to fix the engine. The mechanic takes the engine apart and, at last, pulls the remains of Crow’s acorns from it.
“How did these get in the engine?” asks the mechanic. “You must have parked the bulldozer under an oak tree where these acorns dropped into the exhaust.”
The driver gets mad at this accusation. “I did not!”
“Well, then, how did these get into the engine?” the mechanic holds up the proof.
The developer sees the proof and adds another charge, “You’ve cost us an entire day. Hurry up, try to start it now!”
The driver again gets his rather large body into the cab and turns the key. The engine starts. There are disappointed looks on the faces of the friends hiding below the majestic oak tree.
“Turn it off for a minute,” says the mechanic. “It looks like I need to adjust the tracks. They look out of alignment.”
GJ suddenly has an idea. He slips from the others and cautiously runs down to the other side of the bulldozer, where the mechanic is working. He hops up on the opposite track and from there into a tiny, tight opening in the middle of the engine.
He crawls through the engine until he finds the electrical wires and the fan belt. GJ licks his two sets of very sharp front teeth and begins to chew. It doesn’t take GJ long before several wires are severed, and the ends of the fan belt hang before him. He squirms and squeezes his way back out, still unnoticed by the men.
“There,” says the mechanic, “we are all set. You shouldn’t have any more problems.”
The developer stands beside the bulldozer with the mechanic and anxiously taps his plans. The driver squirms his large body into the cab and turns the key. Sparks fly out of the engine, and the two halves of the fan belt fly hundreds of feet into the forest.
“What now?” screams the exasperated developer.
“What did you do?” the mechanic looks accusingly at the driver.
“Nothing. This is your fault. Don’t blame this on me.” This time, the driver gets his large body quickly out of the cab and angrily confronts the mechanic.
Both men start to yell at each other and are very close to fighting.
The developer then runs over.
“You gave us a bad fan belt.”
“Nonsense,” the mechanic responds.
“Did, too.”
“Did not.”
“Did, too.”
“Did not.”
This goes on for a couple more times as each of the men gets madder and redder, and their hands begin to curl into fists.
Finally, the developer stops and asks, “Okay, when can you get me a new belt?”
“I’ll call now and have someone bring it up this afternoon. The developer looks at his watch and adds, “Tell them to hurry. I want to get as many hours of bulldozing this afternoon as possible.”
As he did before, the mechanic walks over to the bulldozer and starts to take the engine apart. He discovers the chewed wires, retrieves the fan belt from the woods, and sees the signs of an animal’s sharp teeth.
“Well, it looks like an animal has sabotaged us. Fixing the engine will take much longer than I thought.”
“An animal? An animal? Are you kidding me?” yells the developer. “Why would an animal deliberately try to stop us?”
With this comment, the friends in the bushes high-fived each other.
That evening, Purple arrives to join her three friends on their rocks. A cooling breeze causes the top of the White Oak to wave gently. As it does, several acorns fall and land on the patio.
“Fresh Direct,” Bear happily grunts and starts to pick up dinner.
Purple laughs, but her laugh masks her terrible concern. “I can’t believe we still have to fight to preserve this land, but at least we have stopped them for another day. How did you do it?”
Crow looks at GJ and reports, “GJ came up to the top of the mountain to get Mr. Bear’s advice on his claustrophobia. It isn’t easy being a claustrophobic gopher. But today, GJ was very brave. He squeezed into the engine and, with his teeth, cut the wires and fan belt. The day belongs to GJ!”
“Cheers, hooray,” they all yell.
Then Purple goes over to GJ, picks him up, and snuggles his little nose against her cheek. GJ is in heaven.
GJ adds, “I saw what Crow did the day before and knew I had to help today. What is funny is that once I knew what I had to do, I was no longer afraid to go into that tight space. I wonder why?”
Bear and Purple look at each other and then say in unison, “We know why.” GJ now also understands and stands up a little straighter.
Later, Purple tells them that her father is speaking tonight to the tribal council. He hopes the number of signatures on his petition will change the council’s mind and stop the developer. These friends hope for the best.
Tribal Council
That evening, in the high school auditorium, the tribal council meets with the entire tribe. They have already given the developer the go-ahead to start preparing the top of the mountain as the site for the new casino, but they want to hear objections from anyone who wishes to speak. Bob Pequot, the council president, hits the gavel to bring the meeting to order.
“We are a tribe, and the tribe does not come to decisions like corporations. Everyone may express an opinion, and we will proceed only when there is a consensus. One of our elders, Sam Martin, has recently returned from fighting overseas and asks that we hear his words. We have seen how casinos have generated a lot of money for other tribes, and we need these revenues to provide health services and education to our people. Although we have given the developer permission to proceed, we can reverse that decision if the tribe decides there is a better option. Mr. Martin, you may proceed.”
Sam Martin arises from the back and, with his crutch, proceeds to the front of the stage, where a microphone has been set up. He carries a thick folder of papers with many signatures.
The mic is set up for a standing person, but Sam cannot both stand and read from his notes.
“With your permission, may I sit?” Sam asks.
The maintenance people bring a chair from the back and adjust the microphone for Sam, who is now seated. Sam puts his papers on his lap.
“Thank you, Bob, for allowing me to speak. As was said, I am back from Afghanistan, and my injuries are a result of an enemy land mine. During my months of recovery at the army hospital, I heard that the tribe was in discussion about allowing a developer to build a casino on top of our tribe’s sacred mountain. I wanted to provide testimony earlier, but I have only recently been released. I have lost use of my left leg and have been diagnosed with PTSD because of my injuries. The leg injury is okay; the mental condition, PTSD, is not. I find that I am afraid of many things. I can’t stay in small rooms nor concentrate on work as I did before. Despite having the best doctors at the hospital, I did not improve. However, since returning home, I have spent most days on our mountain and the woods I knew so well growing up.”
“Being in our magnificent forest greatly improves my PTSD condition. I have conducted tests to measure my stress and other symptoms and reported these to my Army doctors. They have taken a great interest and have asked me to continue monitoring my improvement. If we had more time, they might help us preserve these lands, but we, as a tribe, must do this because it is our ancestral and sacred land. Having this for ourselves and our children is more valuable for our physical and mental health than all the medical care that the money from a casino may provide.”
“In our tribal tradition, the land and the people are one, and only those with a deep love of the land will survive. Without our land, we, as a tribe, are without.”
Sam pauses to open his folder.
“My daughter, Purple, and I have gathered signatures from a third of the tribe over the past two days. With another day or two, we believe we can have over half our tribe. I ask for additional time to gather these signatures. Why do we allow our ancestral lands to be used to build a casino that provides no nourishment to the lives and spirits of our people?”
After Sam’s speech, many tribal members applaud, and Sam gathers his papers and returns to his seat.
“Thank you, Sam,” responds Bob. We understand that our ancestors had strong ties to the land. However, we now live in a culture different than the one you represent. Do we wish we lived in these lands before the Europeans came? Yes, we all do, but we don’t. We need children to be educated; we need medicines for our elderly. Being in the forest may help your PTSD disease, and we are all thankful for that, but our sacred mountain does not help our tribal members with diseases like cancer or to get our children into good colleges.”
Bob opens the tribal council for comments from others. Most follow Bob’s lead in stating the necessity of raising money by whatever means possible.
Sam returns home to find Purple doing her homework. He reports on the evening. Both are quiet and sad, and they have no idea how to stop the destruction in time.
Next Day
Early the following morning, the three friends hear several off-road vehicles driving up the mountain. The developer, mechanic, and driver assemble around the bulldozer. The mechanic replaces the wires and fan belt and looks over the bulldozer to see if any other damage occurred overnight.
Another vehicle arrives with a local policewoman. The developer asked the local police to ensure the bulldozer would have a full day without any other delays – from animals or otherwise.
“We have had several unexplained delays,” the developer tells her. “You need to make sure that nothing or no one interferes with today’s bulldozing,” he adds.
The three friends hear this and hang their heads, as it appears that nothing can be done, and this will be the last day for the 400-year-old oak and Mr. Bear’s cave. Purple rejoins them on the mountain and tells the friends that her father has not been able to change the minds of the tribal council despite the number of signatures on the petition.
“I don’t know if there is anything else we can do,” she says, bursting into tears.
This is followed by an awful second burst of black smoke from the bulldozer as it starts up. The engine noise hangs heavy over the silence and mystery of the ancient forest. The first movement of the bulldozer’s tracks tears up the ground that has held plants and animal homes for thousands of years.
The developer points to the White Oak because he knows that once the top of the mountain has been leveled, it will no longer have its sacred aura.
A ringing noise is almost lost in the belching sound of the bulldozer, but the policewoman goes over to answer her radio.
“We have a court order to stop the bulldozing of the mountain,” the voice says. “Do whatever you have to do to stop the destruction.”
The policewoman runs up to the developer to order him to stop. He says he can’t hear her and must get something from the back of his truck. He then walks away from her. The policewoman then runs over to the bulldozer, which has lowered its blade to proceed against the White Oak. She stands with her back to the oak and raises her right hand, her palm facing the driver.
With that, the driver stops, twists his large body, and descends from the cab. This isn’t his fight, and he is not taking on the police.
The four friends who have moved away from the bulldozer’s path are stunned.
“What’s happening?” they ask.
Another police vehicle arrives with flashing lights, and Sam Martin lifts himself out of the car, grabs his crutch, and hobbles to see if he has gotten to the mountain in time. He then runs over to Purple and her friends and hugs her with tears on his cheeks.
“Father, what has happened? Why did they stop? The bulldozer would’ve leveled the tree and Bear’s cave in the next 15 minutes.”
“Oh, Purple, we did it!”
“Did it? Did what? What do you mean?” Purple asks. “Did you get half of the tribe to sign the petition?”
“No, no, I couldn’t do that. As you know, I have been talking with my doctors about the beneficial effects of this ancient land for treating my PTSD. Well, my doctors applied for an emergency grant from the Army to set up a forest therapy facility for over 100 soldiers to come here to be treated. This grant will provide more than enough money to build a resort at the end of the road and create walking stations around the mountain to treat the soldiers. Everyone knows that we need another way to treat PTSD, as pills and psychiatrists are not able to help. The Army is desperate for another solution.”
Sam continues, “The doctors called the council and told them the grant would be awarded. Once the doctors convinced the tribal elders, the council immediately voted to stop the development and destruction. They agreed that the grant offers the tribe a wonderful win-win.”
“Additionally,” Sam concludes, “we will hire many of the tribal members to learn and share our knowledge of nature with these soldiers. This will allow us to continue to teach our children the old ways of our tribe, not how to deal cards or wait tables.”
With a sly smile, the policewoman directs the bulldozer to turn carefully around and proceed down the mountain, causing as little damage as possible to the land.
The developer, meanwhile, calls his lawyer and screams at them over the phone to file papers and sue the tribe in court. He will find out who sabotaged the bulldozer during the last two days and sue them as well.
Do you think that Crow and GJ will need a lawyer? This is another type of phobia called liticaphobia – fear of lawyers.
With Sam Martin’s news, the friends emerge from behind the Azalea. The developer looks up and sees them. He squints his eyes and says to the policewoman, “Look over there! They are the ones who sabotaged my property. Arrest them!”
The policewoman looks over and sees a bear, a 14-year-old girl, a crow, and, yes, another small animal.
“You expect me to arrest them? Give me a break,” she laughs at the developer.
Forestry Therapy
“Sam Martin, would you report on our agreement with the Army?” asks Bob Pequot.
Sam stands again in front of the tribal council and the tribe with Purple at his side.
“My doctors have applied for a grant to award 5 million dollars to the tribe to build facilities, train assistants, and pay for other tribal needs. We will build trails and platforms throughout our ancestral lands for soldiers to recover in the silence and richness of the forest. Included is a grant to build a large resort capable of holding over 100 residents.”
“Sam and Purple, our tribe owes you both our thanks for finding a solution to a very challenging problem. We apologize for nearly allowing our sacred mountain to be sacrificed for a casino. Is there anything else you wish to add?”
“In fact, yes,” continues Sam, “it turns out that I have also shared the wonderful results with doctors in both Connecticut and New York, and these doctors have patients who are lawyers, traders, and other financial types who are suffering from high blood pressure, stress, and hypertension. These doctors have observed that forest therapy has been successful in other countries, and once we get started, they will recommend a weekend on the mountain for their patients. I already have a waiting list. By making our mountain and our culture accessible to everyone who needs treatment, we will generate sufficient funds for our tribe to educate and provide healthcare. Our eco-friendly retreat will allow people to come and experience this setting and to restore their bonds with Nature.”
“Since the Europeans first set foot in America, they have not thought there is anything of value that they can learn from the Native American tribes. But now they have so much stress in their lives, they are addicted to many types of pills, their cities are unhealthy, many species of plants and animals are going extinct, and they know that they are in crisis. Perhaps this is our turn to teach them; to show them how to get lost in the woods, hear Nature’s sounds on the blackest of nights, and how they can heal themselves by healing the earth.”
“I will lead these trips and let them find the Bloodroot flower in spring; they will feel the legs of the millipede crawl upon their arms and how the warbler warns of our approach. They will walk as the Native Americans walk in the woods without treading on life and without a sound.”
“Purple will manage the lodge filled with soldiers. She will take care of the accounts, which I can’t do, though how she will get Bear, Crow, and GJ on the payroll is unclear. I hope they will all take a cave and food as partial pay.”
After Sam’s speech, the entire tribe stands to applaud. Many come up to Sam and Purple to hug and thank them for finding an alternative. Afterward, the two heroes return to the now-preserved mountain and sit with their friends on the rocks outside Mr. Bear’s cave.
“You’ve saved the mountain!” says Sam. “You are the three bravest animals I know. Mr. Bear, please help me put in the therapy trails where these woods may have the most beneficial effect for our visitors.”
Mr. Bear replies, “Of course, but the real heroes are Crow, who overcame her acrophobia to get the acorns atop the White Oak, and GJ, who overcame his fear of tight places to cut the fan belt.”
“Let’s have a congratulatory dinner,” Mr. Bear continues. “Here are some berries and acorns. Oh, wait, I forgot the honey that I found in a bee’s nest last week. Crow, would you go into my cave and get the honey jar from the shelf?”
Crow hesitates.
“It is at the back of the cave,” directs Bear.
“Uh, uh, uh.”
“Just go to the back. It is on the shelf.”
“Ur, I don’t really like to go into caves or dark places.”
With that admission, all the friends look at Crow.
GJ speaks first, “Do you mean that you also don’t like dark, tight places? Do you have claustrophobia? After all the mean things you said to me, you’ve had my phobia all along?”
“Er,” caws Crow.
Then GJ laughs, “You don’t have claustrophobia, but cawstrophobia.”
To that wordplay, everyone laughs, even Crow, as such good friends surround her.
“So, what are you going to do now?” Purple asks GJ.
“Oh, I suppose I will go back to Mommy and live the life of a gopher. I’ve changed a lot during this trip, and since I am a gopher, I’m okay with being a gopher.”
Sam speaks up.
“GJ, we must do much work to set up the various therapy stations. We have been given a grant, but I want to ensure we spend it wisely. We must move a lot of rock on this mountain to set up our platforms. We need someone who is an expert at determining which rocks we can move and which are too big. After chasing the bulldozer away, I won’t bring up a big machine to build our therapy stations along the trail. This may be the perfect job for you. We’ll call you our boulder-sizing expert.”
“You mean I can stay and help with the project? I can stay here on the mountain with my friends?” GJ looks at each other in hope.
GJ cannot believe what is happening. He now has an important job working in the real world. ‘Me, yes, me, GJ, the gopher.’
After all,” offers Sam, “we should all stick together. We’ve proven that we are a good team to get things done—or maybe I should say with the casino, not to get things done.”
GJ is silent for a few minutes and then continues, “It’s very odd, but I no longer fear the tight, dark tunnels of my Mommy’s home, but now more the restricted life I might have led. Still, I am afraid that Mommy worries about me and may be searching for me around the Gardener’s farm. Maybe I really should go back home.”
“I don’t know the name of your new fear,” caws Crow, “but don’t worry, I’ll fly over to tell her that you are safe on the mountain and that you have an important job working for a healthcare company. I know she will be so proud of her GJ. I’ll tell her you’ll visit her once our building project is completed. It will also allow me to harass the gardener with some fun fly-bys.”
Crow then looks fondly at her great friend GJ, puts her wing around him, and caws, “Take the job, GJ. Go pher it.”