Albert's Woodland Melody

Albert just wanted everyone to be happy.

There was so much to be afraid of. Predators, starvation, threats lurked around every corner. Last week Timmons suddenly disappeared. He was always the first to gather at the pool and the last to leave so everyone was on edge when he didn’t turn up at all. He was a quiet little fox, but clever. He was always watching, always thinking. Dennis was the self-appointed leader of the team, but that was more because he simply never stopped offering his opinions. Everyone agreed that placating his ego was easier than trying to constantly control his blather. His helpful insights were frequent enough it ended up a zero-sum game. The other woodland creatures went to Dennis with any problems or concerns initially. If his feedback didn’t sit well with them, they’d consult Timmons. Once there was an apparent solution, Timmons would go to Dennis and use his quiet charisma to make Dennis think the solution was his and everything was once again smooth. The only reason Dennis was the figurehead is Timmons wanted nothing to do with the limelight and was content to be everyone’s treasured advisor.

Albert thought about his ragtag forest family; Timmons the fox, Dennis the owl, Kayla the Blue Jay, and Crocker the woodchuck. The pool is what brought them together. It was nestled in a protected cove of pines, overlooked by many of the other woodland creatures. The five of them had happened upon it at different times, but their paths crossed often enough they ended up making it a ritual to start and end their day in the water. They worked together to plan their days and keep one another relatively safe and healthy. Each of them had their own broods that served as their top priority. It was nice to have a group to rally around when the responsibilities of family seemed too big to shoulder.

He thought back on their shared history…

Animals have a different sense of time, relegating their understanding of such things to the immediate moment. He realized that he didn’t truly remember much of a time without his crew. He looked absently down at his little guitar and smiled as he remembered the adventure that led him to it. A group of humans had come to their little pool one day. The animal friends had been wrapping up their evening meeting when stomping invaded their peace. Four of the giant, clumsy humans had broken through the copse surrounding the pool, their loud clomps giving the critters plenty of time to hide at a safe distance to observe.

“This looks like a good spot,” one of them said.

It had yellow fur on its top and was taller than the others. There was another one with brown fur that was just a little shorter and two smaller humans with long fur that ended in odd little tails. One of the smaller ones had yellow fur like the tallest one. The other smaller one had red fur and seemed to be paired with the second tallest.

“Works for me, I’m beat,” said the red-furred human as they dropped some sort of pack on the ground.

The four of them went to work taking things out of bags and setting up some sort of strange shelter. Once that was done, they started a fire and used it to make some sort of food that smelled delicious.

“I hope they leave,” Albert whispered.

He and Timmons had hidden themselves in a berry patch in order to spy on the intruders. Timmons’ sharp eyes surveyed the group, taking in every detail. After a few seconds, he seemed to come to a decision.

“I think they’ll only be here a day or two at most. I’ve seen humans do things like this before, and it’s fairly short-lived,” he said in his quiet, calm way.

Timmons had been right; the humans were there through the night and left by midday. That evening, Dennis had gone on (and on, and on) about how the humans were encroaching and threatening their very existence, and the group needed to find a new spot. Kayla said that Dennis was being ridiculous and that humans were idiots and posed no threat. The two of them volleyed back and forth as dusk eked ever closer to dawn. Crocker busied herself by gnawing at a good-sized chunk of wood. Timmons sat and watched the two battle back and forth. Albert was growing increasingly annoyed at the ridiculous pair until he noticed a shape sticking out from behind a bush. He moved toward it and saw that it was the strange tool one of the humans had been using to make music unlike any the five of them had heard. They were curious enough to listen to this odd, evocative music as the humans played and made other odd sounds with their mouths. All of it was as confusing as it was compelling, and the creatures found that they quite enjoyed the experience.

Albert grabbed the tool and brought it over to the others. They sniffed and prodded at it to assuage their curiosity and assess whether or not it was a threat. Albert carefully plucked at one of the strings as he remembered the human doing. They all jumped at the sound that it made and froze in place.

“Do it again,” Kayla said.

Albert did.

He plucked the first string and then tried another. Then another. Soon enough he was enthralled with the process of making different sounds with different strings and the others stopped squabbling and watched Albert and his process. He sensed the coming dawn and felt the pull to his den and his family. The group soundlessly parted ways, and Albert hid this new tool deep in the prickly bushes, claiming it for his own.

They hadn’t had any human visitors since then, and life had continued on its way, the only difference being the new ritual of Albert’s nightly string plucking. That all changed the day Timmons didn’t show up for the morning meet.