In the Woodsy Woods: The Adventures of Brad and Phil

In the Woodsy Woods

The Adventures of Brad and Phil

 

Stories by Nachshon Zohari

 

Illustrations by Avi Zohari & Nachshon Zohari

 

 

 

Disclaimer

In the Woodsy Woods: The Adventures of Brad and Phil is make-believe and is intended to be read as such. Therefore, animals in these stories may behave in ways that do not always reflect the traits of their species. Also, if you are a child then it should go without saying (although I’ll say it anyway), that you must not: bungee jump off cliffs, perform a trapeze act in the tops of trees, ride a unicycle without a helmet, go caving without adult supervision, scale El Ajusco without a guide, and for goodness sake, never ever visit Brooklyn.

Thank you.

The author

Chapter One – Boris

Over the Hilly Hills, across the Rushing River, and deep inside the Woodsy Woods live two young raccoons named Brad and Phil. These twins reside in a cave underneath a hollowed-out tree. Well, more accurately, it is a series of caverns and passageways cut from the rock, over millennia, by an underground stream. The back of this labyrinth of stalactites, stalagmites, and hidden drop-offs has never been reached, but the front rooms are inhabited and stuffed with chemical laboratory equipment, engineering workshops, and an industrial kitchen. There is always a whirl of activity as the brothers experiment, cook, and blow things up in the name of science, discovery – and making a quick buck. Phil is the scientist, usually sporting dark goggles on his head and black, rubber gloves on his hands. Brad is the artist and daredevil, constantly testing the limits of physics and good taste. They barrel through the world with heads up and eyes wide open.

They share the woods with all their merry (and not so merry) friends. Eagli (it is pronounced Eegleé) the Eagle, Pancha La Puma, Otto the Otter, Vinny the Vole, Bea the Blue Jay, and of course Boris the Bear. Boris’ story is interesting because he is not actually from the Woodsy Woods – far from them. Boris was born in the hills surrounding the Siberian town of Petropavlovsk-Kamchatsky. He was orphaned as a cub and raised in a traveling circus, where he was taught to juggle brightly colored balls while riding a unicycle, wearing a little vest and fez – to the delight of small children who laughed and laughed to see such a sight. I wish I could say Boris is a cheerful sort of bear, but his life has taken its toll and he is of a melancholier bent, perhaps even clinically depressed. There is only one thing that makes him truly happy and that is juggling while riding his unicycle, but only when no one is watching. Boris had many years of being gawked at and can no longer tolerate it. And that’s what got Brad and Phil into trouble.

They were scampering in the far reaches of the woods one day, searching for a rare plant needed for their latest, crazy scheme, chatting as they went.

“I saw her the other day,” Phil informed his brother.

“Who?” Brad replied.

“You know very well who,” Phil answered sharply. “Mom!”

“How do you know it was her?” Brad wanted to know.

“How do I know?” Phil said in an exasperated tone. “A raccoon isn’t going to recognize his own mother? Oh, it was her alright. She even had that big scar across her nose from the…um, incident.”

“Wasn’t my fault,” Brad stated immediately.

“Yes, yes. I know,” Phil assured. “You’ve already told me that about a thousand times. Anyway, she was…hey, wait a second. Brad, stop!”

“What is it?” he asked, instantly on guard.

“Look. Over there,” Phil pointed with a paw. “Isn’t that Boris? What in the world is he doing?”

“Hmm…Looks to me like he’s juggling brightly colored balls while riding a unicycle, wearing a little vest and fez,” Brad described simply.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought too,” Phil agreed. “Let’s get a closer look.”

They crept silently to the edge of the clearing where Boris was performing his trick. They stared with wide-eyed wonder at Boris gracefully pedaled in figure eights and tossed the balls into an intricate pattern before his face, all while humming a bouncy, circus ditty. Brad and Phil looked at each other, wicked smiles slowly spreading across their faces.

They stepped into the clearing, clapping their paws in wild amazement at Boris' skill.

“Boris! That was stupendous,” Phil called to the bear, who was instantly off his unicycle and glaring at them with a disconcerting stare. The brightly colored balls were now scattered across the grass and Boris’ fez was askew on his large head.

“Seriously Boris! That was incredible,” Brad agreed, completely disregarding the warning signs. “Where did you learn how to do that?”

Boris just kept staring at them, with his breathing getting loud and labored.

“Um,” Phil said in an aside to Brad. “Boris isn’t looking happy right now.”

“Boris never looks happy,” Brad pointed out.

“True,” Phil agreed. “But he looks especially unhappy at the moment.”

Boris was down on all four paws, leaning toward the raccoons.

“Do you think he’s going to charge?” Brad asked.

“Let’s not wait to find out,” Phil answered. “Run!”

They bolted in separate directions and didn’t look back until they made it to the cave. Paws shaking, they made some tea to calm their nerves.

“Ooh, I’ve never seen him like that before,” Brad finally remarked when they were sitting in front of their cheerful fireplace, both reclining comfortably in their favorite stuffed chairs, back paws propped up on small, padded stools. The logs crackled and sizzled.

“Yeah, that was something else,” Phil agreed, blowing across the surface of his steaming mug, taking little sips. “Why do you think he got so upset?”

“No clue. Could be anything. He’s an edgy sort of chap, you know,” Brad pointed out.

“That’s true,” Phil agreed. “But my oh my, that’s a really neat trick he can do. The other animals in the woods would pay good money to see that.”

“Exactly what I was thinking,” Brad concurred. “We could set up a big tent with stands and sell refreshments and t-shirts at the front entrance. It could be bigger than Otto’s water gymnastics show last year.”

“Oh yeah, that was such an extravaganza!” Phil remembered excitedly. “And we made a fortune. This would be even bigger though.”

“Agreed,” Brad agreed.

They sat silently and dreamed about the riches to be made from Boris’ unique talent.

“We’ve got to be tactful,” Phil offered.

“Hmm? About what?” Brad asked.

“When we bring the idea up with Boris,” Phil clarified. “He seems…uh, touchy about it for some reason.”

“Yes,” Brad said. “You better leave that to me.”

“To you?” Phil almost screamed. “You’re the least tactful raccoon I know.”

“Well, you’re no better,” Brad accused.

“It’s true. We’ve got issues,” Phil concluded, now in a little bit of a funk.

They brooded in silence until Phil declared, “Hey, you know what we need to make us feel better?”

Brad sat up excitedly in his chair, knowing where this was heading “Yes?”

“I’ll be right back!”

Phil dashed out of the room and came back a minute later, dragging a large bag bursting with peanuts in their shells.

“Voila!” he proclaimed.

“Oh yeah!” Brad squealed, diving into the bag and throwing peanuts everywhere.

There is a deep place inside every raccoon’s soul that is stirred by peanuts. The nut itself is tasty and they love to eat it, but the shell…ahh, the shell. It’s squishy but doesn’t break easily. It’s round – twice! It’s the perfect size to be manipulated by little fingers attached to inquisitive paws. Handfuls fly exquisitely through the air and smash against walls with satisfying rat-a-tats. The boys were lost in ecstasy, squeezing shells with small, black fingers, smashing peanuts with their backsides, tossing shelled nuts into the other’s mouth, and just creating a general disaster area with a kazillion broken shells littering the rug. That’s why they didn’t notice Boris standing in the doorway watching them – until he started to laugh. It was a deep, rusty, and broken-sounding noise that started quietly but built into echoing guffaws by the time Boris had to lean on the wall with an outstretched paw to support himself.

Brad and Phil froze and then slowly turned their heads toward the noise.

“AAAAGGGHHH!!!” they screamed and ran to the far side of the room, backs pressed against the wall, breathing heavily.

“B…B…Boris,” Phil stammered. “Hi, nice to see ya Big Guy.”

Brad nodded his head as enthusiastically as he could, wondering if he could escape between Boris’ legs.

The bear finally quieted his laughter, wiping tears from his eyes. Then he spoke in his thick, Russian accent, “Boys, Boris want to say ‘sorry’ for reaction. Boris not mean to scare Brad and Phil.”

“Oh hey, no worries pal,” Phil assured. “We’re…um, sorry too.”

Brad continued to nod his head energetically.

“Would you like some tea?” Phil offered. “Maybe sit down?” He pointed at the largest chair in the room. Boris plopped down with a grateful grunt. The raccoons closed their eyes and hoped the chair wouldn’t break under the strain. Luckily, it held!

“Whew,” Brad said under his breath and went to make tea.

“Five spoons sugar. Please,” Boris instructed.

“You got it,” Brad replied.

“That best laugh Boris have in years,” the bear informed.

“I’m glad we could…um, brighten your day,” Brad answered, thanking his lucky stars Boris came in while they were goofing around with peanuts. “Who knew?” he thought.

Brad served the tea and offered Boris some cookies.

“Thank you,” Boris mumbled, mouth crammed with cookies, crumbs showering onto his fur. “Boris starving.”

Brad spent the next 30 minutes relaying back and forth to the kitchen, finding things for Boris to eat. Finally, Boris leaned back contently and burped. “Thank you. Boris feel better now.”

“Oh, that’s good!” the raccoons replied in unison.

The bear gazed at them meaningfully. “Boris want to tell story – to explain.”

“Sure, Ok,” Phil replied, nodding to Brad to take a seat. He sat down too.

“Brad and Phil know how Boris come to Woodsy Woods?” Boris started.

The raccoons looked at each other and shook their heads.

“No. Now that you mention it,” Phil stated. “We don’t.”

Boris nodded. “Boris born far away – in Siberia. Mother killed when Boris a cub and Boris taken by man to live in cage and learn tricks. Man name Victor. Not nice man. Boris always hungry. Boris practice tricks all day. Victor drink vodka all day. At night Boris go into big tent to ride unicycle and juggle balls. Boris like tricks but hate people watching and laughing – pointing fingers at Boris. One day circus travel to America. Train go through woods. Victor get drunk and forget to lock Boris cage. Boris jump off train with unicycle. Boris meet Brad and Phil. Boris happy to have friends and live in Woodsy Woods. But Boris mad when Brad and Phil make big fuss about tricks – Boris see red. Boris forget Brad and Phil friends.

Brad and Phil sat in stunned silence.

“Boris sorry,” he said, hanging his head.

“Wow Boris,” Brad answered. “We didn’t know. We’re sorry too.”

The air in the room was still. Boris lifted his head.

“Boris and Brad and Phil still friends?” the bear asked sheepishly.

“Of course!” Phil shouted. “Best friends.”

Boris nodded his head vigorously. “Good! Boris and Brad and Phil still best friends. Boris go now – very tired. Need sleep like winter.”

The boys showed him out and then returned to the living room, sitting quietly before the fire.

Brad finally broke the heavy silence, “We’re going to need a Plan B.”

“Obviously,” Phil agreed. “The tent and concession stands are definitely out.”

“That’s going to cut into profit margin,” Brad pointed out.

“Oh, I don’t know,” Phil said thoughtfully. “I think we might be able to add in an additional cost for the danger/excitement element.”

“Hmm…maybe,” Brad replied. “Hey, I’ve got an idea!”

“What is it?” Phil wanted to know.

“I’ll tell you as we go,” Brad replied. “Come on!”

Several weeks later Boris was back in the clearing, juggling brightly colored balls while riding a unicycle, wearing his little vest and fez. He gracefully pedaled in figure eights and tossed the balls into an intricate pattern before his face, all while humming a bouncy, circus ditty. Everything was quiet. Too quiet. Boris stopped what he was doing to stare into the trees beyond the clearing.

“Why Boris hear no birds? No small animal noises breaking twigs in grass? Something not right,” Boris declared and ambled over to the trees.

“Hey Boris, why’d ya stop?” a voice above him called out. It was Bea the Blue Jay, who was safely ensconced in a high branch of a maple tree. “That’s a pretty neat trick you got goin’ there.”

Boris grunted. “Boris thought Boris was alone.”

“Alone?” Bea shrieked. “Oh, my boy, you are so not alone.”

“What Bea mean?” Boris wanted to know.

“Everyone’s here!” Bea informed. “Look ‘round. All the animals in the woods are here, watchin’ from the edge of the clearin’.”

Boris scanned the trees and could now see bright eyes between every trunk and in every branch.

“Every one of us is a dollar poorer for the privilege too,” Bea laughed. “Personally, I didn’t believe the hype that Brad and Phil were puttin’ out, but I got to admit, it was worth it. Your act is fantastic.”

“Brad and Phil…” Boris muttered and then stood staring down toward the ground for a quiet moment. Finally, he looked back up with bright eyes and took several steps back.

“Ladies and Gentlemen!” Boris boomed out suddenly with a loud, deep voice. “Boris invite you into center ring. All see show up close!”

He walked purposefully back to his unicycle and continued his trick. Tentatively, everyone stepped, hopped, or flew into the clearing, itching for a closer view. Boris obliged them by riding his unicycle close to the long line of wide eyes, gawking mouths, and pointing arms. Laughter and cries of delight filled the air. Boris pedaled and juggled for a long, long time. Finally, he stopped to make another announcement.

“Ladies and Gentlemen!” Boris boomed. “Before, Boris not want to put on show. But now, Boris happy because friends happy!”

Everyone applauded and laughed in relief. “Yay!” they shouted together.

Boris continued. “Boris want to invite Brad and Phil to take bow. Big idea from such small raccoons.”

Everyone turned to the trees in anticipation, but Brad and Phil were nowhere to be found.

“Come boys! Boris happy!” he called as he moseyed over to an old tree with long branches.

Finally, tentatively, Brad and Phil poked their heads into the clearing.

Boris beamed. “Here Brad and Phil!”

They were taken aback by his enthusiasm and slowly strode more fully into the clearing, embarrassedly stuffing wads of dollar bills into their pockets.

“Ah, boys. Stand by Boris,” he cajoled. “How about big applause for show organizers?” Boris called to the audience, who clapped with great appreciation. The raccoons walked a little more jauntily now as they headed over to Boris.

As soon as they got to Boris, he reached up and grabbed the branches from the nearby tree. He stepped back and brought them down over the heads of Brad and Phil, burying their tips deep into the turf, effectively creating a cage around the stunned brothers. Everyone gasped.

“And now!” Boris announced. “It time for Part 2 of show – Great Peanut Caper!”

Boris strode into the trees and returned just a few minutes later with a large sack filled with peanuts, which he poured into the cage. Brad and Phil automatically reacted with pure, ecstatic joy, tossing the peanuts at each other, burying their heads under the pile, and breaking the shells in every conceivable manner. Their souls opened, and they were having a great time until they noticed all the animals screaming at their antics. They stopped in mid-cavort and stared at all the open mouths and pointing arms. Animals were doubled over in laughter and rolling on the ground. Boris stood back and knowingly watched the raccoons’ reaction. It was not hard to see the joy get sucked out of the experience for them. It wasn’t fun anymore. It just felt weird.

Brad and Phil locked eyes with Boris, finally understanding their friend. Boris gazed down at them sagely.

“I hate learning lessons,” Brad confided quietly to Phil, who nodded in complete agreement.

Chapter Two – Vinny

Placid Pond isn’t so placid today because two young raccoons are busy at work, banging and sawing inside a stand of birch trees. A long rope has been attached to the top of a thin, but tall, birch and Brad and Phil are pulling on it with all their might. They’re trying to bend the top of the tree down to a wooden platform they built about 30 yards from the pond – without much luck. They grunt, they plead, they curse but no-go. The tree just snaps back after moving a few yards and the boys are flung off their feet, landing in tangled heaps in some tall grass.

“Ow!” Brad cries.

“Oof!” Phil agrees.

The green leaves rustle briefly and then hang quietly on their white branches – mocking them.

“Look, we’re not getting anywhere like this,” Phil points out as he readjusts his goggles.

“You’re right, you’re right,” Brad admits. “But it was worth a shot.”

“We need a winch,” Phil suggests.

“I know, but…” Brad trails off.

“I know you hate to do this Brad,” Phil says. “But we’re going to have to go see Vinny.”

Brad takes a sudden, deep interest in a passing cloud. Long moments pass. Finally, he stands up and brushes himself off. “You know I hate middlemen Phil,” he states simply.

“Yes, I do,” Phil acknowledges.

“And Vinny is…so expensive!”

“Yes, he is,” Phil agrees. “And the best in the business.”

“Also…” Brad says with a small pout. “He makes fun of me. I can’t put my finger on it, but I think he thinks I’m not so smart.”

“Noooo,” Phil replies sympathetically. “I don’t get that impression. Maybe he plays around with you a little, but that’s just how he is. I think he really likes you.”

Brad sighs and looks down. “Do you really think so?”

“Yes, I do,” Phil answers emphatically.

“Ok,” Brad finally says. “Ugh, let’s go see Vinny.”

He marches purposefully toward the pond.

“Wrong way,” Phil corrects.

“Oh yeah, of course. What was I thinking?” Brad mumbles, spinning around on his heel and heading back into the trees.

It is a long walk to Vinny’s hole and that gives them plenty of time for their usual banter.

“Hey Phil,” Brad starts off in what Phil calls his, “thinking voice.” In truth, Brad is more of a “doer” than a “thinker”, but when he does think, it’s usually pretty insightful.

“Yeah?” Phil answers.

“You ever wonder why we’re named Brad and Phil?” Brad asks.

“No, I never have,” Phil answers flatly. “Should I?”

“Well, I mean look at everyone else who lives in the Woodsy Woods,” he starts off. “Boris is a Bear. Otto is an Otter. Pancha is a Puma. Bea is a Blue Jay. And Vinny…is a Vole.”

“So, what’s your point?” Phil inquires.

“My point is they all have names that start with the same letter as their species,” he explains. “Our names don’t do that.”

“Hmmm…that's true,” Phil states thoughtfully. “I never thought of that. I wonder why?”

“That’s what I’m saying!” Brad cries. “I mean, it would have been easy. We could be Ricky and Reggie.”

“That’s true,” Phil admits.

“Or Ronny and Rhett.”

“Uh huh.”

“Or Rocco and Ronan.”

“Ok, I get the point.”

“Or Ruben and Rodrigo.”

“Enough already!” Phil cries in exasperation.

They walk in silence for a few minutes.

“Well, Mom always said we were special,” Phil offers.

“I don’t know if she meant that as a compliment,” Brad replies wryly.

Phil laughs. “I think sometimes she did. Anyway, maybe she named us differently from everyone else because she knew we’d be unique…which we are.”

“Yes, I have been told that,” Brad admits. “Maybe she had high hopes for us,” he says hopefully, but then his mind switches gears. “But, if that’s so, then why did she…”

“Hey, we’re here,” Phil interrupts, pointing to a ridge above the Rushing River. A wooden sign reading Stuff, Inc. V. Vole, Proprietor is hammered into the ground near a small hole.

Vinny has done quite well for himself since moving to the Woodsy Woods several years ago. He was born in an abandoned car lot in the Bensonhurst neighborhood of Brooklyn, New York but his family moved into a basement apartment under a nearby warehouse soon after. He was an inquisitive, “go-getter” kind of kid and was making his own way early on in life, working as a delivery boy for a chain of grocery stores and pharmacies run by rats. It was early one morning when he got his big break. He was heading off to work when he saw the owner of the warehouse walking with an official-looking woman wearing a badge and holding a clipboard. The owner was a heavy-set human with dark, wavy hair and a bushy mustache. He looked nervous and was talking in a funny, high-pitched voice. This caught Vinny’s attention and he hid behind a crate, ears perked up.

“It’s alright Mr. Rossi,” the woman with the clipboard said. “It’s just a routine inspection.”

“Yes, I know,” Mr. Rossi replied, wiping his forehead with a handkerchief. “It’s just that I usually get a warning that you’re coming.”

“Yeah, new policy,” she informed simply, and then finished with a sweet smile, “Surprise inspections.”

Mr. Rossi swallowed hard. Vinny noticed that the man kept looking nervously toward a large stack of crates by the far wall and skittered over to investigate. Behind the wooden boxes he discovered several large circles of very smelly cheese. The odor almost knocked him over.

“Huh, this must be what Mr. Rossi is worried about,” Vinny whispered. “Maybe I’ll just help him out a bit.”

Vinny knew there was a loose wallboard nearby that animals used as a shortcut through the building. So, he slid it over and quickly rolled the cheese circles into the opening, closing it behind him just before the inspector arrived.

“Mr. Rossi?” the inspector asked.

“Y…yes?” he replied, looking at the mysteriously empty space behind the crates in disbelief.

“There seems to be a very strong smell here,” she said with a twitching nose.

“Oh, I know,” Mr. Rossi replied. “We’ve been having some plumbing problems. Plumbers are coming tomorrow I believe.”

“Uh huh,” she answered skeptically, but then proceeded into another part of the warehouse.

A few minutes later, Mr. Rossi came hurrying back to the crates. Vinny had rolled the cheese back out and was leaning on them with a sly smile on his face.

“Hello Mr. Rossi,” he greeted.

The man jumped back in shock, fearfully peering around a crate.

“Yeah, yeah. I can talk,” Vinny stated in his best Brooklyn accent. “Let’s get the shock part over wit’ as quickly as possible ‘cause I want to talk business wit’ ya. I’m breakin’ the code by speakin’ right now, but this is an opportunity too good to pass up.”

Mr. Rossi just stared down at Vinny with his mouth hanging open in dumb-founded astonishment.

Thus, began a partnership that was very profitable for both parties. Vinny helped Mr. Rossi with his cheese import business and Mr. Rossi let Vinny “borrow” small items here and there that could be sold on the streets. It was the classic, “win-win” situation. Over the next several years, Vinny’s operation grew into an empire that stretched down the East Coast, but the pressure got too great and his doctor told him he needed to start taking it easy.

“Look, you’re already a rich vole,” his doctor pointed out. “Why don’t you retire and move to the country.”

Vinny took his advice and moved to the Woodsy Woods, leaving his cousin Joey in charge of the day-to-day operations. But doing nothing all day was hard for Vinny, so he started a small, satellite office in his new home – Stuff, Inc.

Brad stares balefully at Vinny’s hole and then takes a deep breath. “Alright, let’s get this over with,” he says with determination.

They squeeze through the tight hole and enter a vaulted, cavernous space filled with crates and large equipment. After getting adjusted to the dim light, Brad and Phil spy Vinny. He’s almost completely hidden behind a large, glowing panel attached to his desk. He’s pressing at it with his nose.

“Hey, Vinny!” a voice with a heavy Brooklyn accent calls from the panel.

“Hey, Joey!” Vinny replies with the same accent. “Cugino! What d’ya think of this reception, huh?”

A whistle of appreciation comes from the panel.

“It’s like we’re in the same stinkin’ room,” Joey declares in disbelief. “I thought there was no phone coverage out there in the sticks where you’s at.”

“Well, you know that Franny lives in Cocoa Beach now,” Vinny informs.

“Yeah, I heard she’s livin’ under a beauty shop down there,” Joey replies.

“Right,” Vinny confirms. “That’s right by where those rocket ships blast off in Florida. She hooked me up with the best satellite link NASA has to offer.”

They both laugh knowingly, but then Vinny looks up and sees Brad and Phil.

“Oh, hey Joey. I gotta go,” Vinny informs. “Got some customers. Ciao bello.”

“Ciao,” Joey replies.

Vinny presses the panel with his nose one last time and pushes his rolling chair away from the desk. He stands up to greet his customers, arms spread out wide.

“Hey, manichino!” he calls to Brad. “It’s great to see you!”

Brad groans. “Vinny, why do you always call me that?” he wants to know. “Is it a put-down?”

“A put-down?” Vinny cries in a wounded voice. “No, no. It’s Italiano for ‘Big man around town.’ I know a big-shot when I see one. And you, my friend, are definitely a manichino.”

Brad humpfs, not really believing Vinny but also realizing there’s not much he can do about it.

Phil steps between Vinny and his brother.

“Listen Vinny,” he states in his most “down-to-business” voice. “We need a winch.”

Vinny smiles and sits back down in his chair.

“Yeah? What ‘cha doin’?” he inquires.

 “We’re making a catapult from a birch tree,” Phil explains.

“Hmm,” Vinny hums meditatively. “What ‘cha planning to launch?”

“Who are we planning to launch, actually,” Phil corrects.

“Really?” Vinny asks. “I’m intrigued.”

“Yeah,” Brad jumps in to fill in the details with sudden, infectious excitement. “It about 30 yards from the pond and we’re going to charge one dollar to catapult animals through the air and into the pond. Everyone – besides the birds anyway – has always wanted to fly and this will be their chance.”

“Brilliant,” Vinny compliments.

“Thank you!” Brad replies.

“You know what else ya could do?” Vinny asks.

“What?” Brad responds, instantly suspicious.

“Temporary life insurance, and bodily injury policies,” Vinny states.

“What?” Brad asks incredulously.

“Yeah, my second cousin, Manny sells ‘em,” Vinny informs. “Folks love ‘em. Usually get ‘em for flights goin’ over the ocean, but I’m sure he could…er, adapt somethin’ for this kind of thing. He’d only want a very small cut of the action – no more that 70%.”

“70%!” Brad cries in disbelief. “No,” he shakes his head. “No, no. We don’t need that. We just came here for a winch.”

“Ok,” Vinny sighs. “But you’re missing out on a big opportunity. Alright, ‘come along’ then,” Vinny states.

“Where?” Brad asks.

“No, that’s what you need,” explains Vinny, “A ‘come along’.”

“To where? Don’t you have one here?” Brad inquires with growing impatience.

“No, Einstein,” Vinny speaks slowly, pronouncing each syllable clearly. “A ‘come along’ is a type of winch – and that’s what you’re goin’ to need for this job.”

Brad growls.

“Fine, we’ll take one,” Phil speaks quickly. “For a week.”

The event goes off without a hitch. Animals of all shapes and sizes fly into the pond all week, each wearing a complimentary pair of water wings. Everyone has a great time except the beavers, who are quite annoyed until Brad and Phil give them free, unlimited flights.

The brothers turn a tidy profit and then recount the week’s events while sitting comfortably in front of their fireplace.

“Well, I’d call that a success,” Phil says in a contented voice.

“Yeah, I guess,” Brad answers with a sigh.

“You don’t think it was a success?” Phil asks in surprise.

“No, no. It went great,” Brad assures. “It’s just…”

“What?” Phil inquires.

“Well, if you really want to know, it still galls me that we had to pay Vinny so much for that winch,” Brad confesses. “We would have made so much more if we had just gotten it ourselves.”

“Where were we going to find a winch?” Phil challenges.

“Where did Vinny get it?” Brad retorts.

“Uh, I don’t know,” Phil admits. “I mean, he must have connections somewhere.”

“Well, if we could find his connections then we wouldn’t need to go through him anymore,” Brad suggests.

“Hmm…” Phil ponders. “That’s an idea. But how can we find out Vinny’s secret?”

“Bea told me Vinny leaves the Woods once a month when there’s no moon,” Brad informs. “I bet he’s going to visit his ‘connections’. We should follow him. The moon will be gone in just a couple of days.”

Phil’s eyes shine brightly.

Two nights later Brad and Phil are hot in pursuit of Vinny as he blasts through tall grass and under leaves and forest litter.

“Man, this old vole can really go!” Brad pants breathlessly.

“We’ve been running for hours,” Phil replies. “If he doesn’t stop soon, I’m going to have to give it up.”

“No, Phil. Don’t do that,” Brad encourages. “We’ve got to be almost there. It’s going to be dawn in less than an hour.”

As if on cue, Vinny stops. The trees are thinning out and electric lights twinkle in the distance. A train whistle sounds nearby.

“We must be by the train yard,” Brad surmises. “I’ve never been this far before.”

“Me neither,” Phil says in a shaky voice. “This is really far from home…and there are humans everywhere. Makes me a little nervous.”

“Me too,” Brad agrees. “But we can’t give up after coming this far. Let’s just see what happens.”

Vinny edges closer to the edge of the trees and peers out to the train yard. He makes a series of three long squeaks and then three short squeaks. Something peeps back from under a train car. Vinny looks around and then bolts to the source of the signal. Brad and Phil follow silently, keeping a safe distance. They hide behind another car to watch what transpires.

A prairie dog wearing a cowboy hat and tall boots comes out to meet Vinny.

“Hey Tex!” Vinny calls.

“Howdy Vin,” Tex drawls. “We didn’t know if you were gonna make it.”

“Yeah, sorry about that,” Vinny apologizes. “Got a late start. This the car?”

“It’s got the mark,” Tex says, pointing to a spot above the back wheels.

“Good,” Vinny states emphatically. “Let’s get it unloaded and get outta here. Joey says it’s a big shipment this month.”

Tex whistles and about 20 prairie dogs run under the train car and jump through a trap door in its floor. They start ferrying out various items of different shapes and sizes.”

“Wow, would you look at that,” Phil whispers. Brad just watches in awed silence.

“How’s the family Tex?” Vinny asks the prairie dog foreman while his team is hard at work.

“Good, good,” he answers. “My ole ma sure ‘preciates that special mattress you got fer her. Sure helps her sore back.”

“Glad to hear it!” Vinny nods. “And how ‘bout your son?”

Tex brightened considerably. “Got released 9 months early,” he informs. “Sheriff said you put in a good word for him.”

“Ah, I just told him he was a good kid,” Vinny says modestly.

“Well, I can’t thank you ‘nough,” Tex states. “Hey, looks like they’re done. Let’s get goin’. It’s gonna be light soon.”

The prairie dogs have already unloaded the car and swiftly moved the items into their holes in the adjoining field, where they can be delivered to Stuff, Inc. later.

Vinny hands over a wad of bills to Tex. “See ya next month Tex!” Vinny calls over his shoulder, running toward the woods.

“You bet Vinny!” Tex replies and dashes to his hole.

“That was incredible,” Phil states in admiration.

“Did you see?” Brad asks excitedly. “They unloaded some bungee cord. About a hundred feet. That’s exactly what we need. I’m going to go see if I can buy it. I just know Vinny will jack up the price at least ten times what they’d sell it for. We’ll save a fortune.”

“Wait Brad, I don’t know if they’re going to sell it to you! Tex and Vinny seem pretty tight!” Phil calls to his brother but Brad is already halfway to Tex’s hole.

Brad knocks on Tex’s dirt pile.

“Hey Tex,” Brad calls into the tunnel. “You there? I want to buy something.”

Tex pops out of the hole. “Who’re you?” he asks.

“My name’s Brad and I live in the Woodsy Woods – with my brother. He’s back there.” Brad points in the direction of Phil, who gives Tex a little wave.

“Hey, I saw that you guys just unloaded some bungee cord. I want to buy it from you,” he offers. “How much would you charge?”

“Huh,” Tex smiles. “Ok, wait just a sec,” he instructs and jumps back into his hole. Brad is bursting at his cleverness. Tex reappears after a moment.

“Is that the rope you’re wantin’?” he asks, pointing to a prairie dog sticking out of a hole about 20 feet away, holding a coil of rope.

“Yeah! That’s it,” Brad cries excitedly and runs over to the hole but the prairie dog disappears just as he arrives and another one pops up with the rope from another hole a little way away. Brad runs there, but that prairie dog also disappears just before he gets there, only to be replaced by another one holding the rope still further away.

The sun rises in pink, orange, and blue majesty as Brad continues to run back and forth, back and forth, all over that prairie dog colony while Phil just shakes his head and sighs.

Chapter Three – Eagli

Brad and Phil are more than halfway up the steep, winding path that leads to top of the Cliffy Cliffs – and the nest of Monsieur Eagli (it is pronounced Eegleé) the Eagle. They are already past tree line and are about to start using their front paws to pull themselves over the first outcroppings of stone when Phil looks down to the forest floor far below.

“Um, Brad,” he speaks quietly, but gets no response. Looking up, he sees his brother swinging from a boulder by one paw, a coil of rope hanging diagonally from his shoulder and across his chest, whistling happily.

“Hey, stop that!” Phil calls out. “It’s already a good fall from up here.”

“Ah, I’m fine,” Brad answers, as he merrily scrambles to the top of the rock and sits with legs dangling over the edge. “What is it?”

“Look down there by those trees,” Phil directs with his paw. “I think it’s Mom.”

Brad squints and peers down to see a largish raccoon ambling between some trees. “Hey, you’re right – it’s her! I can see the scar from all the way up here. Hey! Mom! Up here, it’s Brad and Phil!” he shouts, jumping up and down and waving his arms to get her attention.

She looks up, freezes in place for a moment, and then bolts into the forest, snapping back low branches as she barrels through the trees.

“Wow, have you ever seen a raccoon run so fast?” Phil whispers in awe.

“She must have been overcome with emotion at seeing us,” Brad suggests, “and had to run off to hide her tears.”

“Um, maybe,” Phil says doubtfully. “Anyway, she’s gone. Let’s keep going.”

Phil is trying to steel his nerve but can’t hide the shakiness from his voice. His brother notices it.

“What’s wrong Phil?” he inquires. “You sound scared.”

“Er, well…” he stalls.

“What?” Brad asks.

“Now that we’re up here,” he begins, “I can see that it’s a really long way down and it’s…um, making me a little nervous. Scared actually. Kind of petrified if you want to know the truth.”

“What are you talking about?” Brad inquires with a laugh. “You spend half your life in the tops of trees.”

“Yeah, but this is different somehow,” Phil replies. “It feels…more exposed. Maybe?”

“Hmm,” Brad murmurs. “Well, it was your idea to come up here.”

“I know,” Phil admits, shaking his head ruefully.

“And what a great idea it is too!” Brad continues excitedly. “Bungee jumping off Eagli’s nest. What can possibly go wrong?”

“I suppose,” Phil agrees half-heartedly. “I just keep feeling like I’m going to slip and fall.”

“Slip and fall?” Brad cries incredulously. “You’re a raccoon! You’re nimble by birth.”

“Yeah, I know,” Phil agrees. “I think it’s a mental block. I’ve got the thought stuck in my head and I can’t get it out.”

“Well, thoughts never get stuck in my head,” Brad announces cheerfully. “I’ll help you. I’ve got a smaller length of rope too. Why don’t I tie it to the both of us and lead you up the route?”

Phil breathes in shakily and then slowly exhales.

“Ok,” he finally agrees.

Brad ties them together and they continue the climb – Brad gleefully and Phil…um, not so much.

They finally make it to the ledge where Eagli’s nest sits, a tangled mess of sticks, grass, moss, and dirt hanging off the side of the cliff.

Brad pops his head over the side of the nest. Eagli is sleeping peacefully.

“Hey, Eagli!” Brad shouts.

The eagle jumps, nearly falling out of the nest.

“Mon Dieu!” he cries and then regains his balance.

“Did I startle you Eagli?” Brad asks innocently.

“I do not often receive véesitors up here,” Eagli explains in his fabulous French accent. “And eet ees pronounced Eegleé.”

“What is?” Brad asks.

“My name! Eet ees pronounced Eegleé.”

“But…that’s what I said,” Brad says in confusion.

“Non, you said Éeglee. Eet ees, in fact, pronounced Eegleé – with zee accent on zee second syllable. Please try again.”

“Éeglee?” Brad pronounces tentatively.

“Non, try again,” Eagli demands.

“Éeglee,” is his second try.

“Non, non, and again, non!” Eagli cries in exasperation.

“It’s Eegleé!” Phil calls from below Brads feet.

“Oui! Correct!” Eagli announces joyfully and then looks over the side of the nest. “Pheel, ees that you?”

“Yes!” Phil calls shrilly. “Brad, can you pull me up? I’m kind of dangling down here!”

“Oh yeah. Hey, sorry about that Ole Buddy,” Brad states apologetically. “Here we go!”

Phil is heaved over the ledge and lays face down on the bottom of the nest, breathing heavily.

“Wow Phil,” Brad says in an awed voice, standing on the edge of the nest. “Take a look around. It’s gorgeous up here!”

Phil tentatively peeks over the side.

Eagli sniffs. “Thees ees nothing,” he says dismissively. “You should see zee view from my nest een Gaspé Penneensula.”

“Where’s that?” Brad asks.

“Een Quebec, my homeland,” Eagli answers with great pride. “Zee greateest countreé in zee world.”

“Where’s that?” Brad asks again.

Eagli is struck dumb.

“It’s in Canada,” Phil informs.

“Eet ees temporarily in Canada,” Eagli corrects. “But, one day…eet weel be free.” He stares off into the distance with an epic stare.

“Uh huh,” Brad says. “So, why don’t you live there if it’s so great?”

“Eet ees my greatest dream to return,” Eagli says with a sigh. “But alas, I am…unable.” He hangs his head wearily.

“Why?” Brad wants to know.

Eagli looks up. “Because zee government een Ottawa,” he pauses to spit, “has banished me from my homeland for my work with…” he turns his head in all directions and then whispers conspiratorially, “zee Parti Québécois – true freedom fighters for zee liberation of our language, our culture, and our…” he gets choked up here, “our way of life.”

“Wow, what’d ya get kicked out for?” Brad inquires, fully absorbed now.

Eagli explains happily. “No-theeng really. I simplee flew reconnaissance – thees ees a French word, you know – during street protests. Ah, I can steel smell zee tear gas in my nostreels.” Eagli breathes in deeply and his eyes get misty.

“Incredible,” Brad comments.

“Yes, it is,” Eagli agrees and then remains stoically silent.

Phil interrupts the moment. “Well, ok. Er, hey Eagli.”

“Oui,” he replies without opening his eyes.

“We actually have a proposition for you – if you’re interested.”

Eagli opens one eye. “What kind of proposeetion?”

Brad jumps in to explain excitedly. “We want to create a week-long bungee jumping event and charge one dollar per jump. We think it will be a HUGE hit with everyone and we want to use your nest as the launching pad.”

Eagli looks at them with both eyes open now.

“We’d give you a cut of the gate of course,” Phil is quick to interject.

“How beeg?” Eagli wants to know.

“Well, that depends on your level of participation,” Phil replies.

“Or lack thereof,” Brad adds.

“Explain pleese. I am intrigued – weech ees a French word, you know.” He fluffs his feathers, and distractedly cleans his plumage [which is also a French word, you know].

Phil begins, “Here’s the idea. We can devise some sort of pulley system to get the animals up here, or…”

“Or,” Brad interrupts, “you can simply fly the animals up here yourself and we won’t need to bother with all that.”

“What percenteege if I do nothing?” Eagli asks.

“30%,” Phil answers.

“And eef I fly up and down, carrying…smelly animals all day long?”

“50%,” Brad informs.

“I will take 30% for doing absolutely nothing,” Eagli announces.

Brad and Phil smile broadly, but then Eagli puts up a wing.

“But only eef,” he states dramatically, “you fly Le Fleurdelisé – zee flag of Quebec – from zee rampart, so everyone who comes up can experience eet’s stirring colors.”

“Sure thing, do you have one?” Phil inquires.

“Non,” Eagli answers.

“But…where are we going to find one?” Phil asks, dumbfounded.

“Thees ees not not my problem,” he says simply. “But Le Fleurdelisé, eet must fly.” He stares off epically into the distance again.

Brad and Phil look at each other and then simultaneously say, “Vinny.”

“Ugh,” Brad adds dispiritedly.

“Ok, Eagli,” Phil announces. “You’ve got a deal! Brad and I will work on getting that flag and we’ll be back here tomorrow to build the pulley system, but now, we must make a test jump to make sure it’s…um, safe.”

Brad proudly presents the bungee cord to Eagli, grinning ear to ear.

Eagli looks down to the forest floor far below and then shakes his head, “You are truly fou,” he tells Brad.

“Thank you!” Brad replies.

“Ok, Brad,” Phil instructs. “Give me the rope and I’ll tie it off.”

“Um, no,” Brad refuses.

“Why not?” Phil inquires.

“Because I’m not trusting my life to one of your knots,” he answers simply.

“What are you talking about?” Phil cries in an injured voice. “I’m an expert in knots. Thoroughly investigated their history, cultural meaning, and application. I’ve read nine books on the subject!”

“I believe you,” Brad says while wrapping the cord around a boulder, “but you can’t actually tie one to save your life – or mine.”

Eagli watches Brad expertly tie off the bungee cord to the rock, impressed. “Hee does seem to know what hee ess doing,” he comments.

Phil sits down in a huff and let’s his brother finish the job. Brad then ties the end of the rope to his ankle and steps on the edge of the nest, looking down with a glowing light in his eyes.

Phil stands up. “Wait,” he cautions. “Let me take a look at how much rope you used to tie off.”

He goes over to the boulder to investigate and nods his head. “Alright, I’ve calculated the length and elasticity of the rope and surveyed the height of the cliff to a precision of inches. Your descent will stop around 10 feet from the ground and you’ll come to rest about 20 feet above ground.”

“That, I will trust you with Phil!” Brad says to his slightly mollified brother.

“We can build a platform,” Phil explains, “so paying customers can be untied and then safely take stairs to the ground. But, right now, I’ll just swing you into some trees and you can grab onto one and untie the rope there. Ok?”

“Yep!” Brad agrees. “Sounds perfectly reasonable.”

“Ok, one last thing…” Phil states nervously, but Brad has already launched himself into the void and is plunging down the cliff face.”

“Weeeeeeeeee!!!!!!!” he calls on the way down.

Reaching the end of the cord, Brad continues for another 10 feet as the rope stretches to its extended length, and then he is flung back up. He goes up and down, up and down like a yo-yo a few times before finally coming to rest – Phil was exactly right – about 20 feet from the ground.

Phil hears a shout from far below, “Hey, it worked! Swing me over to the trees now.”

Phil dutifully complies, and Brad is soon clambering down an ash tree to its trunk. He then jumps off and dances all around.

“That was so fun Phil!” he yells up to his brother. “Now, it’s your turn!”

Phil stares down with a raw, bubbling fear churning his insides and then leans back against the inside of the nest. Eagli looks at him with his penetrating eagle eyes.

“You do not want to partake een thees idioceé?” he asks the terrified raccoon.

Phil shakes his head no.

“I always said you were zee smart one Pheel,” Eagli comments.

“I’m afraid of heights,” Phil discloses in embarrassment.

“What?” Eagli gasps in disbelief. “Afraid of heights? Non. Afraid of falleeng from heights? Oui. But, no-theeng is more lovelee than to see zee sweeping landscape beelow your weengs! I will show you the beauty of height,” he says with conviction, “and that weel cure you of fear.”

With that, Eagli grabs Phil with his large talons and drops off the ledge. They swoop away from the cliff face and rise upwards, letting the warm updrafts carry them away.

“AAAAGGGGHHHHH!!!!!!” Phil screams while Eagli spreads his strong wings and spirals above the Woodsy Woods.

After a while, Phil stops screaming and opens one eye, but he instantly slams it shut again.

“Come on, Pheel,” Eagli coaxes. “Look around.”

Finally, Phil opens his eyes completely and scans the world far below him. He can make out the entire sweep of the Woodsy Woods and the Rushing River snaking its way through the trees. He spies the train station far in the hazy distance and discovers familiar landmarks that seem so different from up high.

“Thees ees the world that I see,” Eagli explains. “Eet is so deeferant from the beastly, sweaty life leeved on the ground. Non?”

“It’s nice,” Phil agrees.

“Are you feeleeng better?” Eagli inquires.

“Yes,” Phil replies in a calmer voice. “But aren’t you getting tired Eagli?”

The eagle sniffs. “Tired? Non. I don’t eeven need to flap my weengs. I can fly all day.”

Which they do. Finally, several hours later, Eagli lands Phil by his cave.

“Adieu!” he calls to Phil and flaps away. “See you tomorrow – and remember to bring Le Fleurdelisé!”

Phil waves to the eagle as Brad pops out of the cave. “There you are! Where have you been?”

But Phil can’t even speak. He just places a paw on his brother’s shoulder, looks him in the eye for a moment, and then goes down to the cave for some tea.

The next day, Brad and Phil are in the dimly lit warehouse of Stuff, Inc.

“A what?” Vinny asks from behind his desk.

“A Fleurdelisé,” Phil repeats. “It’s the flag of Quebec.”

“That’s in Canada,” Brad informs.

“Yeah, thanks Genius!” Vinny snaps.

Brad growls.

“Can you get us one?” Phil asks quickly.

“Sure,” Vinny replies in a sing-song voice. “I can get anything. My sister Carina lives in Montreal. I’m sure she could pick one up. But…it’s a specialty item, so it’s gonna cost ya.”

“How much?” Phil inquires.

“40 clams,” Vinny replies with a smile and leans back in his chair.

“40 dollars!” Brad shouts. “That’s extortion!”

“Ooh, big word,” Vinny teases.

“No! Phil, not this time.” Brad announces, outraged. “I’m not paying it!”

Phil pulls Brad to the side and whispers in his ear. “Look, we can’t do this event without that flag and Vinny’s the only one who can get it for us. We’re still going to make a ton of money.”

“No,” Brad replies. “It’s the principle.” He pauses and then says, “Ugh, I’ll just make one myself.”

With that, Brad stomps out of the warehouse.

“You know,” Phil says to himself. “He could – he really could. Why do I keep forgetting he’s such a talented artist?”

Phil marvels – once again – at the complex nature of his simple-seeming brother. He then shrugs apologetically to Vinny, who replies, “Ah, don’t worry ‘bout it. It’s just bizness. I’ll see ya next time,” he says with a dismissive wave and turns back to the phone panel attached to his desk.

Phil is sitting in front of the fireplace, comfortably reading a book when Brad comes in later that day.

“Ok, I got it,” Brad announces.

“Got what?” Phil responds.

“I’m just back from visiting Eagli, and he told me what the flag looks like,” Brad explains. “It’ll be easy – just a blue background with a white cross and four little thingies in the corners. Les Fleurs, Eagli calls ‘em. Flowers.”

Brad holds up a sketch for Phil to see.

“Oh, you can easily do that,” Phil states.

“I know,” Brad agrees. “But Eagli wants it to look professional so I’m going to have to use the big silk screen press.”

“Well, you know your business,” Phil states and returns to his book.

Later that night Brad enters the living room holding a completed Le Fleurdelisé in front of him. Phil whistles in appreciation.

“Would you look at that!” Phil declares, walking over to take a closer look. “You’ve outdone yourself this time bro.”

“I have, haven’t I?” Brad agrees happily.

Several weeks later, the bungee jumping goes off without a hitch. Animals of all shapes and sizes are hoisted up to the nest, where the cord is attached to various parts of their lower anatomy. They are then dropped – screaming – down the cliff face and disembark on a sturdy 20-foot tall platform. Eagli oversees it all, proudly standing under Le Fleurdelisé, which snaps majestically in the strong breeze above his head, gleefully adding 30 cents to his tally every time another sweaty, smelly creature falls off his ledge.

Just another great week in the Woodsy Woods.

Chapter Four – Bea

Brad and Phil are on their way to Bea the Blue Jay’s tree, excited by their first “commission”.

“Can you believe someone is actually paying us to do something?” Brad asks excitedly. “That’s so cool!”

“Agreed!” Phil agrees. “What do you think it is?”

“Haven’t a clue,” Brad admits, “but whatever it is, I’m sure we can do it. Mom always said we can do anything if we just put our minds to it.”

“She always believed in us,” Phil says wistfully.

“Yeah,” Brad sighs. “Phil? Why do you think she left?”

“I’ve been wracking my brains about that,” Phil replies. “I think it must have had something to do with ‘the incident’.”

Brad begins to speak, but Phil cuts him off. “Yes, I know. It wasn’t your fault.”

“That’s right,” Brad says with conviction. “That light stand wasn’t set-up right and it just fell over by itself.”

“The base was right by your tail,” Phil points out gently.

“But I didn’t move my tail!” Brad protests. “I was completely still, like a…”

His voice is suddenly drowned out by a cacophony of screeching birds.

“Hey, we’re here!” Phil tries to shout above the din. “This is Bea’s tree!”

“What?” Brad asks, not comprehending.

“Bea’s tree!!” Phil yells louder.

“Oh,” Brad responds. “No, I didn’t bring any honey.”

“What?” Phil asks. “No, what I’m saying is this is Bea’s tree!”

“I already told you I don’t have any honey,” Brad replies, confused. “Why do we need honey?”

Phil shakes his head in frustration and peers into the branches of the tree, trying to find Bea in her distinctive straw sun hat covered with flowers. He finally spots her and waves.

Bea shouts down something but Phil just cups a paw behind his ear and shakes his head.

“AW-RIGHT, SHADDUP!!!” Bea trills above the noise and the other jays quiet down just a little. “Oooh-wee! I can’t even hear ma-self think with that infernal racket!” she calls out in her southern accent.

Bea is the matriarch of a large and scattered clan. Her tree is home to countless children, grandchildren, great-grandchildren along with myriads upon myriads of nieces and nephews. If that isn’t enough, it’s also home to many “down-on-their-luck” jays who just need a branch to clutch on to. It is a riotous place with many comings and goings, birthday parties, and Sunday lunches, which Bea presides over with the well-deserved pride of an elder caring for the fruit of her labors. She is originally from Nashville, Tennessee, growing up right outside the Grand Ole Opry. She spent many nights perched high in the rafters of that ancient temple to blue grass music and back-hills humor, soaking it all in. She even started her own musical review in a tree outside the Opry. It was quite successful until one day when she fell hard for a rakish, young jay named Benny and decided to follow him to an exotic place called the Woodsy Woods, which was “a good ways up north”. Her family received a constant flow of letters from Bea but never saw her again because she was too busy raising her broods and recreating her musical review in the tree overhanging the Rushing River and next to the Ancient Oak. Ashwood Hall was known throughout the Woods (and beyond) as the place to go to hear good music, laugh uproariously, and reconnect with old friends. Bea had a good life, which was only marred by one thing – and that’s why she is now hiring Brad and Phil.

“HOW-W-W-DEE-E-E-E-E! Brad and Phil,” Bea called from the tree. “I’m jest so happy to see y’all!”

“Hey there Bea!” Brad calls back.

Phil smiles because you just can’t help but smile when you’re around Bea. Her good humor and genuine care breaks through any concerns you might be having and instantly puts you into a good mood. That’s why it seemed so strange to hear such worry in her voice when she asked for their help.

“We came as quickly as we could,” Brad let’s her know.

“Well, I sure do thank yee,” she replies. “Hol’ on a minute! I jest finished bakin’ some acorn bread. I’ll be right down with a couple of pieces fer ya.”

“Mmmm…acorn bread,” Brad murmurs.

Phil has a gleam in his eye because Bea is acknowledged by everyone (including herself!) as the best baker anywhere.

They sit on a red and white checkered tablecloth spread on the ground, finishing their third pieces of acorn bread each while Bea watches from a nearby rock.

“Oooh-wee! You boys can sure pack it away,” Bea notes cheerfully.

“It’s just so good!” Brad mumbles with a full mouth.

Phil nods his head enthusiastically.

Finally, they’re finished and ready to get down to business.

“Ok, Bea,” Phil starts off while brushing away the crumbs. “How can we help?”

“Oooh-wee,” Bea sighs quietly. “I don’t even know where t’start.” And then she stares back to the tree.

“Well, why don’t you start at the beginning?” Brad suggests. “That always seems like a good place.”

“I so like your thinkin’ Brad,” Bea compliments. “It’s just so…concrete.”

“Thanks!” Brad replies.

Bea begins. “Well, I’ve got a great, great, great…ah shucks. I can’t remember how many ‘greats’ she’s got in front of her, but it’s a lot – grand-daughter named Billie. You ever meet ‘er?”

Brad and Phil look at each other and shake their heads.

“No, I don’t think we have,” Phil answers.

“Well, you prob’ly wouldn’t ‘member if ya had,” Bea sighs again. “She’s plum silent. Never said a word that anyone can report, in fact. And that’s jest not right fer a blue jay. You may not have noticed b’fer, but we’re all quite the talkers.”

“Huh,” Phil replies politely.

“So, where do we come in?” Brad inquires.

“Honestly, I’m not sure,” Bea replies. “I’ve takin’ ‘er to all the docs in the Woodsy Woods and beyond but nobody knows what’s wrong with ‘er. I’m b’side myself with worry, and then a couple of nights ago…” she trails off.

“Yes, a couple of nights ago,” Phil encourages.

“Well, now that I’m talkin’ ‘bout it, it sounds silly,” Bea says embarrassedly. “But a couple of nights ago I woke from a strange dream and a voice tol’ me to, ‘Go see Brad and Phil. They’ll know what to do.’ And that’s jest what I did…but now…ah shucks, I think I’m jus’ wastin’ yer time.”

“No, no. I think it’s quite sensible to listen to dreams,” Phil informs.

“Yeah, they tell us things our brains know, but we don’t,” Brad adds.

Phil tilts his head a little to think about that.

“Right,” he finally agrees with his brother. “Anyway, here we are! We may as well meet little Miss Billie. Is she here?”

Bea smiles thankfully. “She sure is. Bi-i-i-i-l-l-l-l-e-e-e-e!” Bea hollers into the tree. “Come on down Swee’ Cheeks! Got a couple folks I want ya t’meet.”

A young blue jay flutters down to the rock and looks at Brad and Phil shyly.

“Boys, I’d like you to meet Miss…” Bea starts to introduce Billie, but her voice is drowned out when a lively blue grass tune suddenly erupts from the tree – mandolin, guitar, banjo, Jew’s harp, gut-bucket, whiskey jug and all.

“Ooo-wee! Them boys be rehersin’ fer the show tonight,” Bea informs apologetically.

“What?” Phil yells.

Bea tries to speak louder but gives up, motioning for them to move away from the tree. Finally, out of range of the music, they stop, and Bea introduces Billie to the boys.

“It’s very nice to meet you Miss Billie,” Phil replies.

“Yeah, super nice,” Brad agrees.

She offers them a little smile, but then just stares blankly.

Bea shrugs and gives them a look that says, “See?”

They are all quiet for a moment, but then Brad states, “You know what? I’ve got an idea.”

Phil turns to his brother in surprise. “What is it?”

“Bea. Can you and Miss Billie come with us to our cave?” Brad asks.

“Sure, I s’pose so,” she answers. “But, what ya gonna do?”

“I’ll explain when we get there,” Brad answers mysteriously.

However, before they can leave, Miss Billie tugs at Bea’s wing and points to the Ancient Oak, which is filled with many different birds feeding on its acorns.

“Oh right, I plum forgot,” Bea announces. “Thanks Billie. It’s feedin’ time at the zoo. Need everyone to gather all them acorns from the tree. They’re ripe and ready fer the pickin’.”

“Looks like they’ll have a lot of competition,” Phil states, gazing at the birds in the Ancient Oak.

“Nah, watch this,” Bea replies with a wicked grin. “Impersonations is my specialty.”

With that, Bea takes flight and rises high into the air. Suddenly, the cry of a red-tailed hawk sounds just above the treetops and all the birds scatter from the oak tree. This leaves plenty of room for the blue jays to leisurely fly in from their own tree and harvest the acorns.

“Wow, that’s a pretty neat trick,” Brad tells Bea when she returns.

“Well, thank yee kindly,” she answers with a nod of her head.

They then proceed to Brad and Phil’s cave.

Brad serves tea while Bea and Miss Billie perch on the table and Phil reclines in his arm chair.

“Sugar, Miss Billie?” Brad asks.

She nods her head.

“How many spoons?” Brad follows up.

She bobs her head twice and Bea sighs.

“Oky doky!” Brad says happily.

After the tea is served, Brad asks everyone to sit quietly, without speaking. The clinking of cups on saucers and the crackle of the fire are the only sounds in the room until Bea interrupts the silence.

“What’s this gonna do?” she wants to know.

“Shh,” Brad shushes.

Bea humpfs, and more silence descends.

“I just don’t see how this is getting’ us anywheres,” Bea interjects after about another 30 seconds.

Brad puts a finger to his lips and Bea puts a wing over her mouth.

Brad just watches Miss Billie’s reaction to the quietness. She stands peacefully, and her eyes seem bright.

“Do you like the quiet, Miss Billie,” Brad asks.

She nods affirmatively.

“What’s it like?” Brad probes.

Miss Billie tilts her head a little as if in thought, but then she just looks back at Brad and shrugs.

Bea exhales. “Shoot, I really thought she was gonna say somethin’ there.”

“She almost did,” Brad replies.

“I think you’re really onto something here Brad,” Phil states, impressed. Sitting up, he then offers, “But, maybe it’s just not quiet enough yet?”

“Yep, that’s what I’m thinking too,” Brad agrees. “Where’s the quietest place in the Woodsy Woods Phil? Maybe her mind just needs a little space to move around in – I know mine sure does.”

“The cave,” Phil suggests. “Deep down in the cave, Brad. It’s the quietest place I know.”

“Hey, yeah,” Brad confirms. “You’re right. It’s kind of dark and spooky though.” He turns to Bea and asks, “Are you both Ok going down the cave?”

“Pppssshhhttt,” Bea laughs. “Blue jays ain’t ‘fraid o’ nothin’.”

“Alrighty then!” Brad cries. “Let’s head down into the cave.”

Phil dashes to the storeroom for the gear: helmets, head lamps, ropes, carabiners – the works. He grabs smaller versions of the helmets and headlamps for Bea and Miss Billie. Vinny suggested they should buy these too (“for your little friends”) when Brad and Phil bought the equipment several months back. Brad was skeptical of Vinny’s motivations of course, but Phil is happy to have the stuff now. Brad and Phil have been doing a little spelunking in their spare time but haven’t really advanced very far into the inner reaches of the cave system that lies underneath their home. Phil has wondered about this because it seems like just the adventure his daredevil brother would usually dive into, but they never seemed to find the time to do anything more than “scratch the surface”.

“Oh well,” Phil says. “We’re going down now!”

Both Bea and Miss Billie sport small caving helmets and head lamps while Brad and Phil are also weighed down by ropes as they make their way past the final store room and into the dark reaches of the back tunnels.

“Remember Brad,” Phil reminds, “there’s a ledge about fifty feet in. We’ll need to tie off there and drop down that first bit.”

“I remember,” Brad replies in a slightly annoyed voice.

Bea and Miss Billie are getting used to flying by the light of their head lamps.

“Oooh-wee! This is fun!” Bea screeches happily as she buzzes around the heads of the raccoons.

“Hey!” Brad shouts. “Bea! There’s a big drop-off coming up. Stop that!”

“Oh yeah. Hey, sorry ‘bout that boys!” she says apologetically, and flies ahead. Then she calls back in an echo-y voice, “Oooh-wee! You’re right. There’s a big ole cavern that drops down ‘bout 100 feet. It’s like a cathedral in ‘ere.”

She and Miss Billie excitedly explore the hall of ascending and descending pillars. “Weeeeee!!!” Bea trills.

Brad secures their rope at the edge. “How does that knot look?” he asks Phil.

“You’re asking me?” Phil replies, shocked by the question. “I thought I didn’t know how to tie a knot to ‘save my life – or yours’?”

“I’m just making sure,” Brad says impatiently, and then peers over the edge. “Sure is dark down there,” he whispers.

“Of course it is – it’s a cave!” Phil exclaims, dumbfounded.

“Yeah,” Brad agrees.

“Brad, what’s wrong?” Phil inquires.

“Um, nothing…or, it’s just…really dark down there,” he finishes lamely.

“So?” Phil replies. “You’re out in the dark every night.”

“Yeah, but this is different,” Brad answers. “There’s really no light at all.”

“That’s why we have the head lamps,” Phil informs reasonably.

“Yeah,” Brad sighs, “but it gets pretty tight down there too – once you start following the river.”

“Hmmm…maybe you have claustrophobia,” Phil suggests.

“Don’t be ridiculous!” Brad says forcefully. “I don’t have…whatever it is you just said. I just don’t like being in tight spaces – especially in the dark.”

“Uh huh,” Phil says dryly. “Well, we don’t have to go very far. There’s a side tunnel that moves away from the river and leads to a small chamber. I found it the other day when Goobie the Gopher and I were exploring. It’s VERY quiet there. It should be easy enough to get to and the passage isn’t that small.”

“Maybe…” Brad replies uncertainly.

“Don’t worry Brad,” Phil encourages. “I’ll make sure you’re Ok. Come on, Miss Billie needs us…and, Bea is paying top dollar.”

With that, Brad’s eyes light up and he nods his head with conviction.

“Let’s do this!” he states firmly and starts to untie the rope.

“What are you doing?” Phil asks.

Brad looks down. “Woops, would you look at that?” he says in surprise. “Why am I untying the rope? Here, let’s just make sure it’s triple secure.”

He finishes off the knot and moves toward the ledge. He backs over the edge, holding the rope with one hand and giving his brother the “thumbs-up” with the other.

“Ok, here we go!” he forces himself to sing through his rising dread.

Phil returns the gesture. “I’m with you all the way, bro!”

Phil can hear his brother’s raspy breathing below him until they get closer to the river and the noise of its rushing water drowns it out. Finally, Phil hears Brad’s feet crunch on the sandy ground and then he reaches the bottom too. Bea and Miss Billie continue to fly around the cavern, with Bea’s “Yahoooos!” bouncing off all the far walls.

“You Ok?” Phil asks Brad with concern when he shines his head lamp onto his brother’s stricken face.

“Oh yeah, sure…no problem,” Brad replies in a strained voice and then puts his paws on Phil’s shoulders and leans heavily against him.

“I don’t know if I can do this Phil,” he admits in a shaky voice.

“Just take a deep breath,” Phil suggests, which Brad does. “And take another,” Phil instructs. Brad does this too. “Feel better?”

“A little,” Brad states. “Doesn’t this bother you at all Phil?”

“No, not really,” he answers simply. “I actually really like it.”

“Wow, Ok,” Brad states in wonder. “Look, I’m just going to stay close to you. You sure we don’t have to crawl or anything like that to get to the chamber?”

“I promise,” Phil promises. “It’s a bit curvy, but not too small.” He examines his brother. “Ready?”

Brad breathes in deeply. “Ready.”

“Ok, Bea!” Phil calls to the circling bird. “We’re good to go!”

Bea and Miss Billie join them on the sandy floor by the underground river.

“We’re going to follow a side tunnel just over there,” Phil directs, pointing away from the river. “Follow me!”

Phil leads the way, followed by Brad and then Bea and Miss Billie. The tunnel quickly gets too narrow and twisty for the jays to fly so Bea perches on Phil’s shoulder and Miss Billie lands on Brad’s, who smiles at her.

“We almost there?” Brad asks nervously after about 5 minutes.

“Getting close,” Phil replies.

The sound of the river has disappeared, and everything is silent when they step into a round chamber about 20 feet across. A few large, flat boulder lay on the sandy floor and they all find a comfortable place to rest, turning their head lamps on the walls and gasping at the many multi-colored gems embedded in the stone.

“Oooh-wee!” Bea exclaims. “This place sure is perty.”

“Wow,” Brad agrees, as the reflections of light create a shimmering rainbow above their heads.

“Ok, so now,” Phil instructs. “I think we all have to be really quiet. Is that the plan Brad?”

“Yeah,” Brad replies after a moment, finally tearing himself from the wonder of the lights. “Yes! Let’s be really quiet now.”

They all sit in silence until Bea inquires, “How long we need to do this?”

“As long as it takes,” Brad answers.

Another couple of minutes go by, but then Bea breaks the silence again, “I sure wish I brought a magazine,” she sighs.

“Shh,” Brad shushes and watches Miss Billie, who has a small smile on her face, quickly turning her head to watch the colors flashing through the room.

“You know, we may need to turn the head lamps off,” Phil suggests. “I think the colors are distracting her.”

“Yeah, I was thinking the same thing,” Brad agrees. “Ok, let’s turn off the lights.”

They all do, and complete silence and darkness fill the space. Their breathing becomes very loud and they try to quiet their breaths as best they can. Finally, after many, many minutes, and with a rusty, squeaky voice, Miss Billie says, “I’m hungry.”

Bea gasps.

“I’m hungry Mee-maw,” Miss Billie repeats.

 “You called me Mee-maw,” Bea says through tears. “We got plenty to eat back home, Swee’ Cheeks.”

“Acorn bread,” Miss Billie says. “I want some acorn bread.”

“Sure,” Bea answers. “Boys, can we turn on the lights now?” she asks.

“Absolutely,” Phil replies.

Lights flick on and Phil sees tears streaming down Bea’s face. He then looks at his brother, who is gazing serenely at Miss Billie, with wonder in his eyes.

“It worked,” he breathes.

“Yeah, it worked,” Phil agrees, smiling.

“I love your acorn bread, Mee-maw,” Miss Billie tells Bea.

“I’m jest so happy to hear that,” Bea replies, still crying.

“Although, the other day it was a little dry,” Miss Billie informs.

“Was it?” Bea asks in surprise.

“Yeah,” Miss Billie states. “I think you baked it too long.”

“Did I now?” Bea replies, sounding just slightly offended.

“Yep,” Miss Billie responds. “But I put on some walnut butter and it made it taste a little bit better.”

“Well, that was right clever of ya,” Bea says.

“Uh huh,” Miss Billie agrees. “Also, I don’t like the perch I sleep on. Is there anyways I can switch with Bertie?”

“Well, we can look into that, I s’pose,” Bea answers uncertainly. “But Bertie will prob’ly have somethin’ to say. Bound to lead to an argument,” she sighs.

“And, by the way,” Miss Billie continues. “Bobby broke your good tea pot last week. He ran right into it – knocked it all the way to the ground.”

“Did he now?” Bea states.

“Yep,” she nods. “Also, you should know that he’s always tellin’ lies to ya Mee-maw. I know he’s your favorite and everthin’ but he’s pullin’ the wool over your eyes. And another thin’…” Miss Billie continues, rushing on in her newly discovered stream of speech.

Bea looks over to Brad and Phil and whispers, “Anyway y’all can make her stop?”

They both just smile and shrug.

 

Chapter Five – Pancha

Brad and Phil are exploring the southern-most reaches of the Woodsy Woods, trying to find a hidden cave inside a secluded canyon. The sun is setting behind the rising hills as the boys gaze up to see bare tree branches silhouetted against the muted, orange light. Shadows deepen, and the raccoons increasingly rely on their night vision and “woods smarts” to make their way.

“Are you sure we’re even heading in the right direction?” Phil asks his brother who has his ear pressed to the ground.

“Shh,” Brad replies, continuing to listen to the earth. “I can hear the train off in that direction,” he whispers, waving his paw away from the setting sun. “So, that means we need to go…this way.” He stands up and strides into what looks like deep underbrush but turns out to be a well-worn path underneath tangled brambles.

“Come on Phil,” Brad calls. “It’s over here.”

The brothers thread their way through the overgrown maze until they reach the crest of a hill that dives into a rocky crevice. A cave entrance hides halfway up the other side of the tight canyon, surrounded by scrub oak.

“That’s it!” Brad exclaims.

“Way to go!” Phil complements. “Wow, this is really hard to find. Do you think Pancha’s home?”

“Pancha esta aqui,” a voice with a velvety Mexican accent purrs in the air above them.

Brad and Phil turn to see Pancha La Puma resting comfortably on a flat boulder rising above their heads, wrapped in a colorful shawl.

“Hola, Bradlee y Filipe,” she speaks in her slow, soothing voice. “Joo found me. ¡Felicidades!”

“¡Gracias!” Brad replies. “It’s good to see you again Pancha!”

“Joo too,” she says with a slight smile. “Gracias for comin’ all theese way.”

“No problem,” Phil states. “We’ve wanted to explore down here for a long time and this gave us a good excuse.”

Pancha shivers slightly. “Ooh, eet es cold – muy frio. Let’s go eento my cave and I’ll make you some tea,” she suggests.

“And maybe you have some gallinas?” Brad inquires. “You know we love your pastries.”

Phil nods vigorously in agreement.

“I baked some theese mornin’, especial for joo,” she answers with a smile.

With that, Pancha stands up, stretches leisurely, and then bounds down the slope with cat agility, disappearing into her cave like smoke. Brad and Phil follow her down the canyon – making quite a bit more noise – and amble into the den, immediately enjoying the intimate warmth and pleasant smells of her abode. Pancha was born in the hills outside Mexico City, the pampered, only daughter of Pancho El Gato, who was something of a local legend – both feared and respected by the local citizenry. Her mother died when she was a kitten and this gruff father had to learn how to nurture and protect his child, which he did with varying degrees of success. Pancha grew into a wild and adventurous creature, exploring the mountains surrounding the giant city with daring and no small amount of curiosity. She wanted to know the secrets of everything – where does this river originate, what’s the view from the tallest peak, and how far does that cave descend? She explored the heights and depths of that country with an insatiable appetite for knowledge and beauty. A band of like-minded animals started to join Pancha on her expeditions, ultimately becoming known as the Club de Exploradores Felices, the Happy Explorers Club. Pancha was recognized by all as their leader – charismatic, fearless, and a faithful friend. But one day, while scaling El Ajusco she fell from a high ledge and broke her back. Her friends carried her many painful miles to her father, who nursed her back to health. Pancha was immobilized for months, which took its toll on someone with such a high, energetic spirit. It forced her to redirect the focus of her explorations to what was at hand, mainly herself. She painted many self-portraits and portraits of visitors. Her painting became more refined with each attempt, until finally, she was recognized as an artist of the highest quality and her work was greatly sought after. She always suffered pain related to the injury, but after a year of convalescence she regained her health enough to start adventuring again, exploring both Americas before finally settling down in the Woodsy Woods, which she found “endlessly charming”.

“Su madre came to visit me the other day,” Pancha informs Brad and Phil while steeping the tea.

“Mom was here?” they reply in unison, shocked by the news.

“Si, si,” Pancha answers. “We visit each other quite often. We’re vecinas – neighbors.”

“Neighbors!” Brad cries.

“You know where she lives?” Phil exclaims.

“Of course,” Pancha answers smoothly.

“Tell us!” they both demand.

“Ah, ah,” she says while wagging a clawed finger. “All een good time. Tea?”

“Does she talk about us?” Brad wants to know while stuffing powdered pastries into his mouth.

Pancha laughs softly. “All thee time.”

“Why did she leave us Pancha?” Phil asks sadly. “Do you know?”

Pancha purses her lips and smooths the fur on Phil’s head. “Because shee loves joo,” she informs, looking directly into his eyes.

“But that’s crazy!” Brad exclaims. “If she loved us, then she’d want to be with us.”

“Si, that’s correct,” Pancha agrees. “And shee weel again when es el momento adecuando - thee time, eet es right.”

“Really?” they both say ecstatically. “When?”

“Joo weel know soon enough,” Pancha replies cryptically. “But ahora, I want to talk about somethin’ else.”

“Ok…but first. Do you have any more gallinas?” Brad asks hopefully.

“Si, of course,” Pancha answers with a smile.

Finally, they are all seated together, enjoying pastries and their second cups of tea.

“So, the reason I asked joo aqui es because I want to put on an art show,” Pancha announces. “And I want joo to help me.”

“An art show!” Phil states enthusiastically. “That’s a great idea. Never had one in the Woodsy Woods. We could make a fort…”

Pancha looks at him sternly.

“I mean,” Phil coughs, “it would be so beneficial for the culture of the good folk of the Woods…is what I meant to say.”

Pancha nods and then turns to Brad, “And Bradlee, I want joo to show some of your work también. We weel have a joint exhibit.”

“No, no. I don’t have anything nearly as good as yours,” he declines modestly while looking at the brightly colored canvasses leaning against her walls. “Your art is way better than mine.”

“I do not theenk so,” Pancha disagrees. “I have seen your stuff – es muy bueno. Our work would complement each other perfectly.”

“And it would help de-clutter the cave if you got a few things out Brad,” Phil points out helpfully.

Brad stares hard at his brother.

“We just need a location y promoción,” Pancha instructs. “My patrón weel provide the up-front costs.”

“Your patron?” Phil asks. “Who’s that?”

“Vicente El Vole,” she replies innocently.

“Vinny!” Brad cries. “Oh no. I’m not working for Vinny,” he states adamantly.

“What es wrong with Vicente?” Pancha demands. “He promotes my work in galerías in New York and Feeladelphia. Hee es a great lover of las artes – a true caballero.”

Brad starts to walk around the room in circles.

“Brad and Vinny don’t really get along,” Phil quietly informs Pancha, who nods in understanding. “Vinny can be a little…um, sarcastic with Brad and it gets under his skin.”

“I see,” Pancha states. “Bradlee, has Vicente ever seen your art?”

“No,” Brad replies in a pouty voice.

“I theenk he weel have a deeferent opinion of you after he see your work,” she offers.

“I don’t care,” he replies petulantly.

“And…” she says with a smile. “I know – for a fact – su madre weel attend the opening night gala.”

“Mom?” the brothers say together.

“Si,” Pancha answers.

“Brad! You’ve got to do this,” Phil demands. “Mom will come if you do.”

Brad sits back down and broods in silence. Finally, he looks up and says, “Ok, for Mom. But…” he shakes his head, “Vinny – ugh.”

“Fantástico!” Pancha cries, clapping her front paws. “And joo weel see. I weel patch theens up between joo and Vicente and joo weel become mejores amigos – best friends.”

“Uh huh,” Brad says doubtfully.

Two days later, Vinny strolls into Brad and Phil’s cave.

“Hey, nice little hole ya got here,” he states while looking around.

Pancha sits smiling by the fire as Phil rises to greet Vinny. Brad stands at the table with his back turned.

Vinny lifts his nose. “Hey, I can feel a breeze coming from that hallway,” he says. “How far back does it go?”

“It’s uncharted,” Phil replies. “Could be miles for all we know.”

“Really?” Vinny states, intrigued. “Big space?”

“Huge,” Phil answers.

“Hmm,” Vinny says meditatively. “I’m lookin’ for some more warehouse storage. We should talk.”

“Yeah, you bet,” Phil answers, already adding up the numbers in his head.

“Can we get on with this?” Brad speaks without turning around.

“Hey, Houdini! I didn’t see ya over there,” Vinny calls to Phil, whose body tightens noticeably. “How ya doin’?”

“Vicente?” Pancha calls serenely from the chair.

Vinny turns to her. “Ah, La Regina,” he greets Pancha in an emotional voice and moves to kiss her paw, which she holds out benignly.

“Would you like some tea Vinny?” Phil asks.

“Yeah, yeah,” he answers, tearing himself away from Pancha. “No sugar though. My rotten doctor tells me I gotta cut out sugar – and every other fun thing I’ve ever done in my life. Stinkin’ quack.”

“Well, he ees a duck after all,” Pancha points out with a smile.

“Yeah, yeah,” Vinny agrees with a laugh. “Anyways, where’s the pictures I’m here to see?”

“We’ve got them set up in the next room,” Phil informs while carrying in Vinny’s cup. “Have a seat and we’ll take a look after our tea.”

Vinny looks hopefully at Pancha and asks, “And did La Regina bring…?”

“Chamucos?” she finishes, and then pauses theatrically for a moment. “Si.”

Vinny exhales and she places a basket of the cookies on the table.

“Mmmm,” Vinny sighs and reaches in for a handful.

Pancha laughs. “Joo doctor weel no be pleased, I theenk.”

“Ah, what he doesn’t no ain’t gonna kill ‘em,” Vinny replies, biting down with gusto.

Finally, after three rounds of chamucos, Vinny is ready to get down to business.

“Alright, let’s go see those pictures,” he says, pushing himself out of the chair. “And I’ve come a long way, so they better be good.”

Brad growls.

They all move into the next room where Brad’s art is displayed. The gallery starts with some small, older sketches, moves into larger examples of Brad’s experiments with vertical perspective, and finishes off with a couple of gigantic pieces of pure abstract expressionism – giant canvasses, one black and the other yellow, with colorful vertical lines cutting the surface with irregular and jagged movement.

Vinny whistles his appreciation.

“Hey Houdini, you did all this?” he asks Brad, impressed.

Brad remains silent but Phil replies, “Yes, Brad did.”

“I think I misjudged ya kid,” Vinny states after a while. “Ya got somethin’ in ya I never imagined. You’re a real artist.”

He pauses for one more moment to take it all in and then nods.

“Good, the show will go on,” Vinny declares and dramatically walks out the room and departs the cave. “Hey, come see me about renting your cave for storage!” he calls back to Phil on his way out.

“Oooooh,” Pancha purrs when Vinny is gone. “He liked theem. Es muy bueno.”

But then Brad spoils the mood.

“I can’t do it,” he says quietly.

“What?” Phil and Pancha cry together.

“Brad, what are you talking about?” Phil probes. “This will be huge – and Mom will be there.”

“I know, I know,” Brad agrees, “But…I just can’t stand the way he looked at my stuff. I just feel…oh, I don’t know. I just don’t feel good about it.”

“Bradlee,” Pancha says soothingly. “I know eet es hard to show joo work. Everybody and hee’s hermano looks at eet and theenks God-knows-what. Even people joo may not like…and who may not like joo. But theenk of eet theese way. If someone who es no joo friend – perhaps es even an enemy likes it, well then joo know es good, no? It’s like, uh…what is thee word…confirmación. That’s no always easy to come by, si?”

“Well, that’s true,” Brad admits.

“Of course, it’s true,” Phil agrees, jumping on the crack in Brad’s resolve. “You should listen to Pancha. She’s an artist. She knows these things.”

Brad ponders this for a moment before finally sighing, “Ok, I’m in.”

Phil and Pancha clap in joy.

“Joo weel no be sorry,” Pancha declares happily. “Joo weel see.”

Brad nods and then smiles ruefully.

Many of the Woodsy Woods’ most eminent residents stroll through the fancy gallery on the night of the gala, sipping wine and munching hor d’oeuvres. Everyone is in their finest clothing – Phil has even donned a formal pair of goggles for the occasion. They rest elegantly on his forehead. While strolling through the gallery, he overhears Vinny chatting up an older couple who are looking at one of Brad’s larger pieces.

“Yeah, yeah,” Vinny declares in an important voice. “They were just a couple of nobodies ‘til I discovered ‘em. In fact, this show was my idea. Put up the dough for the entire thing. I figured I’d give the kids a chance to break into the big-time.”

The couple nod their heads appreciatively. Phil sighs and moves away. He spots Brad and Pancha speaking to a small group and steps over.

“So, joo see,” Pancha explains in her soft, yet confident, voice. “Our work es complementario. Thee colors blend and thee styles, they meex. I was just so happy when Bradlee agreed to show hees work weeth mine.”

Brad smiles broadly. Phil can see he is in a happy, expansive mood.

The group moves off to view the installation and Phil sidles up to Brad and Pancha.

“Any sign of her?” Brad asks, scanning the crowd in the gallery.

“No, not yet,” Phil replies.

“No joo worry,” Pancha soothes. “She weel come.”

But then a commotion erupts by the front entrance, with a lot of squawking and feathers flying.

“But I wanna see them colors again Mee-maw!” Miss Billie shouts at Bea the Blue Jay, who is wearing her finest straw hat and trying to block Billie’s way.

“But no one’s there Swee’ Cheeks!” Bea reasons.

“I don’t care! know the way! I can find the place easy,” Miss Billie declares and bolts out the door.

Brad and Phil rush over to the entrance to see what’s happening. Bea spots them.

“Oh boys! Can ya help me?” Bea pleads.

“What’s going on?” Phil inquires.

“Oh, it’s that impulsive grandchild of mine, Billie!” Bea explains. “She got it in her head all of sudden that she wants to see them colors in that cavern of yours. And that’s where she’s flyin’ off to now. It’s dark down there and she ain’t got no light. She’ll bash herself silly tryin’ t’find the place.”

“We’re on it!” Brad shouts and barrels out the door with Phil and Bea right behind. They finally catch her right at the entrance to their cave.

“Miss Billie, wait!” Brad calls out.

She looks back and notices them coming up.

“Oh, hey there Mr. Brad,” she smiles sweetly. “Say, would it be ok it I go have a lil’ peek at that colorful room ya got under yer house? I been thinkin’ ‘bout it all day long and now I jest gotta see it again.”

Brad laughs. “No problem. But we have to get the equipment first.”

“Oh sure,” Miss Billie agrees. “That makes sense. It bein’ dark down there and all.”

Bea shakes her head, “The wisdom of youth,” she declares with a chuckle.

Phil collects the gear and they all make their way (safely) to the gem room. Everyone is entranced once again by its magical luminescence and stay for a long time watching the flashing colors bouncing off the gems set in the walls. Finally, Miss Billie is ready to leave, and they make their way to the surface.

“Well, I surely do ‘preciate y’all helpin’ like that,” Bea tells them as she and Miss Billie get ready to fly off. “Sure hope we didn’t ruin your party.”

“Party? What party?” Brad asks.

“You’re art gala, and all,” she states.

“Oh my gosh – the gala!” Brad cries.

“Mom!” Phil adds in a desperate voice.

They both dash off, but the party is winding down by the time they get back. Pancha hurries over to them.

“What happened?” she asked, worried. “Joo left so fast. Is everythin’ alright?”

“Yes, fine!” Brad says breathlessly. “Did Mom come?”

“Si, si, shee was here a long time,” Pancha informs. “But then shee had to leave because her lumbago started to pain her.”

“Arrrgghhhh!” the brothers cry together.

“I can’t believe we missed her,” Brad states despondently.

“No, no,” Pancha assures. “I have good news for joo.”

“What?” Brad ask.

“Well, first,” she starts. “You sold three paintings and I sold only two – so joo beat me there.”

“And what else?” Phil asks impatiently.

“Second, I will be takin’ joo both to su madre’s casa tomorrow,” she informs. “Shee is expectin’ joo at 9 in thee mornin’.”

Brad and Phil’s faces brighten like the rising sun.

“Tomorrow!” they say together.

Chapter Six – Mom

It’s the first truly cold morning of the season. Brittle grasses and frosted ground crunch under Brad and Phil’s feet as they wind their way through the woods to Pancha’s cave. Steam rises from their mouths as they crest the large hill overlooking the bramble maze in front of La Puma’s home. They gaze down nervously.

“Are we early?” Brad inquires.

“I don’t think so,” Phil replies. “The sun looks about nine-ish to me. How about you?”

Brad nods in agreement. Then he looks at the wicker basket Phil is carrying. “How are the merkels doing?”

Phil lifts up the little towel covering the basket and peers at the dried morel mushrooms.

“Doing very nicely, thank you,” he answers.

“Um, can I have one?” Brad asks hopefully. “Just a nibble,” he assures.

“No way,” Phil states solidly, slamming the door on this particular line of inquiry. “Your ‘nibbles’ will finish off this basket in under a minute. They’re for mom, remember?”

“I know, I know,” Brad sighs. “They just look so good.”

“Why do you think I’ve been hiding them all these months?” Phil states reasonably. “I wanted to save them for a special occasion, but every minute is a ‘special occasion’ for you.”

“Just trying to live life to the fullest,” Brad says, offended.

“Uh huh,” Phil deadpans. “Come on. Let’s head down.”

The brothers stroll down the hill, thread through the maze, and descend into the canyon.

“Pancha!” Brad calls into the cave’s entrance when they arrive. “Are you ready?”

“Un momento!” she cries from inside. “Almost.”

Pancha exits the cave bearing a basket too.

“Why are joo so early?” she accuses.

“Are we?” they reply innocently.

Brad looks to the sky.

“It seems like about 9 am to me,” he states.

“Look, eef someone invites joo for nine, they don’ expect you until 9:30 – at the earliest,” Pancha explains. “More like 10.”

“I don’t think it works that way with Mom,” Phil answers. “She’s always very punctual.”

“Hmm…maybe that’s why shee always seems so annoyed when I first arrive for a veeseet,” Pancha muses.

“Mmm…could be,” Brad offers. “Um, what’s in the basket Pancha?” he asks, moving closer and stretching out an arm. “Could it be?”

She smacks his hand away with a giant paw and then smiles sweetly.

“For later,” she says.

Brad stays hungry and frustrated.

Pancha takes the lead. “Follow me,” she instructs and leaps onto a ledge. The boys climb after her as best they can. Pancha’s movements are like water running over the ground but the raccoons are a bit clumsier, so she must intermittently wait for them to catch up.

“Ugh, joo are muy lento – very slow,” she notes.

“’Slow and steady wins the race,’ mom always said,” Phil states evenly.

“Yep, that’s what she always said alright,” Brad says, nodding in agreement.

Finally, they reach a rocky ledge underneath a heavily-wooded slope. Below the ledge, and behind what would be a waterfall in the spring, the boys spy an entrance worn into the rock by the forces of nature. Wooden racks stand on both sides of the opening, with herbs drying on vines tied to horizontal rails. Brightly colored gems have been set into the rock to frame the doorway, with the morning sun reflecting off their faceted edges. Holly trees with red berries surround the cave, adding a wholesome smell to the environs. The place feels completely magical to Brad and Phil, who because they are already in such a state of high agitation, fall into a kind of trance. That’s why they don’t see their mother when she comes out. She stands looking at them for several moments.

“Um, niños?” Pancha says, trying to wake them. “Su madre?”

They shake their heads and then see their smiling mother.

“Mom!” they both cry and run right at her.

She holds out her arms lovingly but then her eyes get very big as it becomes clear that they are about to bowl her over, which they do – all three tumbling in a laughing, squealing summersault. They finally untangle and sit on the ground facing each other.

“Well, good morning you two,” she greets cheerfully.

“Mom!” Brad and Phil say in unison and both lean in to snuggle her. She smiles at Pancha while stroking the fur on their heads. Pancha smiles back, saying “Joo look happy Edna.”

“Well, my goodness,” Edna says at last to her kits. “Why are we sitting in the mud on such a cold morning. Let’s go inside. I’m making breakfast.”

“Mmmm,” Brad and Phil respond together.

Everyone moves inside, where the smell of savory cooking fills the air.

“What’s in the basket?” Edna asks. “Did you bring something for your dear old mom?”

“Merkels!” the boys cry together.

“Mmmm,” Edna murmurs, peeking inside the basket. “These will be perfect for the omelets I’m making. How thoughtful.”

Brad and Phil both smile broadly.

Breakfast is a feast, and after many helpings, they move to the sitting room for tea and gallinas.

Long silence envelopes the room.

“So,” Edna sighs. “I assume you’re looking for some kind of explanation?”

“Well…er, yes,” Phil answers and Brad nods. “That would be nice.”

Edna puts down her tea and stares intently at her kits. She starts to speak, but then pauses. Finally, she smiles wanly. “Do you remember when I took you to get your portraits taken and that light stand fell down on top of me?” she begins.

“I didn’t do it Mom!” Brad cries. “I swear! I didn’t do it!”

She smiles at him calmly. “I know you didn’t Sweetie,” she assures. “But do you know who did do it?”

Brad and Phil look at her blankly and then shrug their shoulders.

“Me,” she states simply. “I knocked it over.”

“You!” they say in shock.

“Yes me,” she informs. “Now…” she pauses again. “I’m going to tell you something about myself that you never knew but will explain why I had to do what I did.”

The boys listen raptly with their mouths stuffed with gallinas.

“When I was younger,” Edna begins. “I was an adventurous sort – very similar to two kits I know,” she says with a wink. “I was always getting into trouble. Nothing bad of course,” she clarifies, raising a finger, “but…things often broke, or went awry, or flew through the air, or dropped heavily from great distances. Things like that.”

Brad and Phil nod their heads knowingly.

“Oh, my sisters and I had such a grand time,” she remembers.

“Sisters?” Brad cries.

“We didn’t know you had sisters,” Phil finishes.

“Yes, I had three sisters,” she replies and then continues her story. “Well, one day I was out exploring alone when I smelled smoke. I looked behind, and saw smoke rising far in the distance – in the direction of my home. I turned back but the fire soon became too intense and I had to run for my life. I barely made it – my fur was greatly singed, and my paws had blisters all over them. It took me months to recover…and, um…I never saw my sisters or mother again.”

“Oh Mom,” Phil says.

“We’re so sorry,” Brad finishes.

“You can imagine,” Edna continues, “that my life was very different after that. I had to grow up alone in an unfamiliar place. After long journeying, I made my way to the Woodsy Woods and made a new home for myself here – and I was very happy but was never was the adventurous kit I once was. Instead, I became nervous and jumpy, and after I had you two miracles, it became worse. I tried the best I could to raise you right, letting you have your own adventures, learning about life the hard way like all good raccoons, but as you got older, that became harder and harder until that day, when through my sheer nervousness I knocked over the lamp stand at the photo studio. It could have killed someone. Well…you were then old enough to make it on your own, and I knew I was just going to hold you back from becoming the raccoons you were meant to be…so, I left. But,” she again raises a finger for emphasis, “I’ve been following your progress with great interest.”

“You have?” the boys exclaim together.

“Yes, indeed,” she affirms. “I was there hiding in the trees to watch Boris’ show and saw the catapult flights and the bungee jumps – brilliant boys, just brilliant,” she compliments.

Brad and Phil beam.

“I also heard how you helped little Miss Billie talk. And of course, I attended the art show,” she finishes.

She gazes at them both. “And I just couldn’t be prouder of the two of you.”

The boys are left speechless, with tears welling up in their eyes until they both spring to Edna and give her tight hugs.

After releasing, Phil states, “Oh Mom, we understand.”

“Yeah,” Brad agrees. “That was really smart. But why did you come back now?”

“Good question Brad,” she states.

Brad smiles proudly.

“Well, first,” she continues. “You’re both old enough and have already become the raccoons you need to be, so my nervousness can’t hold you back any longer. And second,” she says with a twinkle in her eye. “I have a job for you.”

They both sit up with interest.

The next day, Brad and Phil are hustling through the far reaches of the Woodsy Woods – in the direction of the train station – searching for a place called Luigi’s Pizza, an establishment that has been in business for almost a hundred years. It was started by Nonno Luigi when he came over from Sicily. His son, Luigi, took over the business from him and now his granddaughter, Gina, runs the place. It served the logging and mining communities that skirted the Woodsy Woods back in the day and was a roaring success. But now it is in a state of decline, reflecting the fortunes of the industries that surround it. In fact, Gina is on the verge of shutting it down due to lack of business. And this is why Brad and Phil are making her a courtesy call.

“Mmmm…I smell something really good,” Brad notes with lifted nose.

“Oh yeah,” Phil agrees. “That must be the pizza mom told us about.”

It is now easy to find the place just by following their noses. They carefully make their way to the edge of the trees and spy an old, wooden building. They see a young woman with long, black hair sitting dejectedly on the back loading dock. Her tall chef’s hat rests beside her and she is staring at the ground between her knees. Edna informed her kits that Gina is one of the few humans who can understand animal talk and encouraged them to make her acquaintance. There is an urgency to the visit because Luigi’s Pizza has provided food to the Woodsy Woods Food Pantry for generations, but this arrangement is now in jeopardy because the restaurant might have to close. So, Edna, who currently runs the ancient and noble institution, has sent her enterprising sons to see if they can help Gina in her moment of greatest need.

They amble over to Gina who looks up and smiles.

“Well, hello there,” she greets pleasantly.

“Hi!” Brad replies. “Our mom Edna sent us.”

“Oh, so you’re Edna’s boys,” Gina laughs. “She talks about you constantly. You seem like quite the characters.”

“Thanks!” Brad states.

“Ok, wait here,” Gina instructs, smiling. “I’ll just go and get the food.”

“No, no,” Phil exclaims. “That’s not why we’re here.”

“No?” Gina asked, surprised.

“No. We’re here to help,” Brad informs.

“The business,” Phil clarifies. “My brother and I have some experience in…um, promotion. We think we can help. Just tell us what the problem is.”

“Well, that’s simple,” Gina answers. “Customers. Or actually, the lack of customers. Nobody comes out this way anymore and I just can’t get enough people through the door to keep the lights on. I’m going to have to close shop.” She shakes her head sadly. “I just don’t know what my dad is going to say. Nonno started this thing from scratch. Didn’t have a penny to his name when he came over on the boat.”

“So, you just need more people to come in?” Phil asks.

“Yes,” Gina answers. “Folks love the food – that’s not the problem. They say it’s the best they’ve ever had…but, they don’t come back often enough to make it work.”

“What you need is a show,” Brad suggests. “That always draws a crowd.”

“We have a nice man who plays folk music on his guitar every Saturday and Sunday night,” Gina says.

“I’m sure my brother is thinking of something a little bit bigger than that,” Phil replies kindly and Brad nods his head energetically. “You can leave that to us.”

“Really?” Gina asks, allowing herself just a little bit of hope, but then she looks downcast again. “But then, there’s also the problem with the cheese.”

“The cheese?” the boys ask in unison.

“Yes,” Gina confirms. “I can’t get any Gorgonzola. It’s our secret ingredient but my distributor doesn’t carry it anymore and I can’t find anyone who will bring it out all this way.”

Brad and Phil look at each other knowingly and then say together, “Vinny.”

“Vinny? Who’s Vinny?” Gina asks.

“You’ll find out soon enough,” Phil states simply. “But hey, this actually seems pretty straight-forward. Is there any way you can coax just a few people into the restaurant this Saturday night?”

“I suppose I can try a huge, last-ditch promotion,” Gina replies. “But I’m sure not more than a handful will show up.”

“That’ll be enough,” Brad assures. “Leave the rest to us!”

It’s the height of the Saturday night rush at Luigi’s Pizza and 15 diners are lingering at four tables on the patio deck, finishing their pizza and salads and downing final glasses of beer and wine. A young man is playing Take Me Home, Country Roads on his guitar and singing the lyrics with great feeling. It’s a beautiful fall night and the day’s warm spell extends into evening, providing a last chance to enjoy dinner under the stars. Gina stands by the wooden stairs that lead to the parking lot, nervously looking at the woods, her watch, and then back out to the woods.

“Anthony!” a man calls from one of the tables, “We’re ready for the check.”

“Yes sir,” the server replies from beside Gina. “Right away.”

Anthony turns to the cash register, but his movement is interrupted by a huge shriek as a firework rocket blasts into the air in front of the woods. All heads turn to the green lawn that lies between the deck and the line of trees about 20 yards away. The firework reaches high into the sky and then explodes into colors of green, white, and red. Soft music then drifts from the tree tops as hundreds of sparkling lights bob and flow just inside the trees – glowing specters that give shape to the local legend of fairies that inhabit the Woodsy Woods. A blue jay starts singing hauntingly from the peach tree that grows in the lawn, weaving her voice with the music high in the trees. It’s a melody that no one has ever heard from a bird before and the diners sit rooted in their seats, entranced by the spectacle unfolding before their eyes. But then they rouse and move over to the railing to see more clearly.

The music switches to a circus tune and the top branches of the tallest trees begin to sway back and forth. Straining their eyes, the people can just make out the figures of two animals swinging from the branches of tall ash trees.

“Are those raccoons?” a woman asks in disbelief.

Indeed, it is two young racoons swinging back and forth until one releases his grip and flies through the air, elegantly summersaulting to his companion, who catches him by his ankles. The people on the deck gasp and cheer to see such derring do. The raccoons perform many other dangerous tricks high above the ground.

“Gina! Are you watching this?” a man calls to Gina who is staring in wide-eyed wonder.

“Yes, Mr. Winston,” she replies. “I’m seeing it all.” And then to herself, “I can’t believe they’re actually pulling this off.”

Water now starts to cascade onto the lawn, as if a stream had been diverted and is now flowing across the green grass. A river otter merrily slides down the slope, stopping his descent with his front paws, and performing an amazing flip to the delight of the crowd. The circus music picks up it’s pace as the otter works his way through a tumbling routine that would put any Olympic gymnast to shame.

The music stops, the water stops, and silence falls dramatically onto the scene. Finally, a bouncy ditty is struck up and a giant bear wearing a little vest and fez and juggling brightly colored balls rides a unicycle onto the lawn. He pedals in figure eights and juggles the balls expertly before his smiling face.

“What a happy looking bear! Oh my gosh!” a woman cries. “This is amazing!”

Finally, after a long performance by the bear, animals of all shapes and sizes appear from out of the trees, holding lit sparklers. They position themselves in a long line facing the restaurant and the band strikes up the final song from the musical Chorus Line. The animals kick their legs in time with the music for a grand finale. A huge eagle swoops over the line, pulling a sign behind him that says (in both English and French!): Try Luigi’s Pizza – it’s simply the best!

The animals take a bow and then retreat to the woods, leaving the people on the deck slack-jawed and silent.

Finally, a woman asks, “Did anybody film that?”

“I did,” a teenage girl replies, “and I’m posting it to all my accounts right now.”

Luigi’s Pizza never had another quiet evening. Word spread far and wide about the nightly animal cabaret. Gina was able to keep her grandfather’s business afloat, the Woodsy Woods Food Pantry was able to keep feeding hungry families, and Edna found even more reason to be proud of her kits.

Brad and Phil and Edna are sitting by the fire in the boy’s cave after that first performance, reliving the night.

“Boys, you really exceeded my wildest expectations,” Edna announces. “I’m just beyond tickled pink.”

“Aw, thanks mom!” Brad speaks with his mouth full of cookies, spraying crumbs all over the floor. He reaches down to pick up the biggest piece and spies a small brown hand stretching out from under his chair and nimbly snatching the crumb.

“Hey!” Brad cries. “What the heck?”

A squirrel suddenly pops out from under the chair, happily chirps at Brad, and scampers out of the cave.

“Scrappy!” Brad shouts. “Why, I oughta…”

Brad zooms after Scrappy the Squirrel, leaving Edna and Phil to sip their tea. They hear a gigantic, crashing commotion just outside the cave entrance, filled with curses and threats.

“More cookies Phil?” Edna asks.

“Yes, please Mom,” he answers, and they both chuckle quietly.