A Timely Word From Maeve and Mable

 

Common Tansy

            It was the very bosom of a summer day, warm as a drowsy cloud. Brilliant flecks of sunshine dotted the forest floor. Insects hummed, bunnies hopped, and lesser birds called to each other lazily.
            A couple of matronly Great Ravens spoke together on a high branch, from which they could espy the doings in the forest nearby. A slight breeze trickled through height where they rested.
            “Well, now that he’s here, what’s to become of him?” said Mabel. “I did what I could for him.”
            “You did well, Sister,” said Maeve, turning a bright eye upon the other.
            “Praise from you, dear Maeve, is praise indeed,” murmured Mable.
            “It is only deserved, my dear, but I wonder what’s to become of him now?” said Maeve. “He has a foot in each of two worlds. Neither here nor there. Not really.”
            “How so?” said Mable, looking down to the forest floor, where Maurice was sitting on a bit of deadfall, playing a bluesy tune on his harmonica.
            “It looks like he is trying to bring Branson to the Forest,” remarked Maeve. “He’s a Howler, a real one, and yet there he sits, tail tucked out of sight, in a coat and pants!”
            “What’s to be done?” asked Mable.
            “Well, observe. Every few bars, he stops and scratches furiously at his own hairy hide, but encased as it is in pants, etc., he’s not making much headway with whatever is biting him,” said Maeve. “I would hate to see him bring fleas into the Home Clearing! Ramona wouldn’t thank us for bringing that!”
            “Ah, no, Ramona wouldn't thank us for that,” observed Mable. “By the way, do Forest Keepers ever have fleas?”
            “Some do, and they scratch themselves to bits. Ramona doesn’t allow fleas in the Home Clearing. She puts dried Tansy under the beds in the cave, but I think the fleas just don’t go there,” said Maeve. "Even fleas have that much sense."
            “A real Howler, living in the Forest must be clean. Unwashed human clothing is not clean. He must be devested somehow, Mable,” said Maeve. “I will think of a Song.”
            The sun moved his bright spots across the forest floor, and the wind scurried through the fir branches as Maeve composed a Song for Maurice.
            “I’ve got it, let’s approach him,” said Maeve. “But first, listen, Dear,” and Maeve sang it for Mable.
            Maurice was still hanging out playing his harmonica when the two Ravens lit on the forest floor before him.
            “Greetings, Good Howler Maurice, “ said Maeve. “Mable and I have a song for you!”
            “What!” said Maurice, while scratching under his left arm. “Mable, nah… Come on!”
            “Hello, Pilgrim,” said Mable, with a Raven giggle.
            “But, how can this be? What have you done with the Buick?” said Maurice.
            Mable just winked, and smiled a Raven smile.
            While Maurice was still trying to organize his thoughts, Maeve and Mable began to sing.
            Maeve’s Song was called Now To Cast Off The Contemptible Clothing!
            Maurice listened with his mouth slightly agape and his tongue lolling a bit.
            “You have to ditch the pants, shirt, and coat, Maurice. The fleas live there,” said Maeve. “Ramona would not thank you for bringing fleas into the Home Clearing!”
            “But what shall I do with them?” cried Maurice.
            “Bury them, burn them, put them under a big rock, doesn’t matter. A True Howler doesn’t wear Man’s things into the Great Forest!” said Maeve.
            So, Maurice being a doggie sort of a creature, dug furiously with his hands until he had a deep enough hole. Then he packed his clothing in the bottom of the hole, and pushed the forest soil back over it. Then he tamped it down with his feet.
            “Much better!” said Maeve.
            “Must I bury my book, pen, and harmonica?” said Maurice.
            “No, there are no fleas on them, but you need a way to carry them about,” said Maeve.
            “What shall I do?” said Maurice.       
            “First we must go to the river, you shall swim and wash yourself, then we will go find Ramona and ask her!” said Maeve.
            The Ravens flew and Maurice trotted along below them, all the way to the silver river. Then he bathed himself, while the two waited, with his things on a boulder beside them.
            Maurice came out of the water and shook himself nearly dry, as all canids do. Then he sat in the warm air for a while, to fluff up. By now, the sun was starting to think about evening, and the light was different, and the shadows longer, reaching nearly across the river.
            Maeve and Mable flew, and Maurice trotted, carrying his book and so on.
            When they got to the Home Clearing, Ralph, Ramona, Cherry, Blue, Bob, and Berry, were all sitting down to a rather large roast of young buck.
            “Maurice!” called Ralph, “Welcome, come and sit! Maeve, Mable, come and eat with us!”
            “This is wonderful!” said Ramona. “Come and sit by my fire!”
            “Hi!” said Cherry, not quite as shy as she was before.
            Blue woofed a bit, and the Pumas grinned secret cat grins.
            Maeve and Mable alternated telling bits of the story of how Maurice came to be there, and explained that he needed some sort of a bag or something for his book, pen, and harmonica.
            “Hello, Ralph and Ramona, and Cherry! It is so good to be here at last,” said Maurice.
            They all had Ramona’s good dinner together, just catching up, and asking about every one back and forth.
            After dinner, Ramona said, “Thaga can probably make a bag to go over your shoulder, Maurice, but for tonight, and until she does, just put your things up on the shelf in the cave.”
            “Thank you, Ramona,” said Maurice happily.
            That night, Ralph, and Maurice, and Blue, and Bob and Berry all had a campout under the stars by the fire circle.

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