The Tasty Baby Animals

by

Carl Quillen
© 2010, Carl Quillen

This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution License (version

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In brief, you may make derivative works, for commercial or other purposes, as
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Printed in the United States of America

For Deirdre

and


 Chapter 1

Chapter 1
“Warm deep silky fur. Long soft floppy ears and moist
sweet eyes. Cottontails! The perfect bunny. Salted and
roasted with cardamom and rosemary. Delicious!”
“Aaaah! You beast! How can you say that!”
“The cuter the tastier! Think of it—waddling wide
breasted ducks with broad grinning beaks and iridescent
feathers, contentedly quacking in chorus—”
“Noooo—”
“Peking duck! Slow roasted, succulent flesh swaddled in
sweet plum sauce!”
“That’s not funny. That’s just mean.”
“Snowy-fleeced gamboling lambs, bleating in soft
innocent melody. Roasted with thyme and garnished with
mint jelly! Soft-eyed baby deer, smooth polka-dotted short
fur, prancing through meadows on dainty cloven hooves…
Venison!”
Yvonne began gagging, caught between crying out in
anger and sobbing in dismay. After a few seconds of
ambiguous strangled sounds she settled on the latter, and
began in earnest, while her friend Ella giggled contentedly
and thought of new ways to torment her.
“All God’s cute baby animals. So tasty! ” she chortled as
Yvonne ran away into the surrounding thicket, tears
streaming from her dark-eyed face. She just had to get
away. It was too much to handle, listening to Ella. She had
a wicked way with words. Especially the evil ones.
Her broad brown naked feet padded the ground. As she
headed under the trees where the earth was sodden, mud
squeezed up between the pine needles and touched the soles
of her feet, tickling the skin between her toes with each

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The Tasty Baby Animals

footstep. The drumming of her feet evolved into a melody

of swishing and squishing sounds and she began leaving a
trail of wet footprints behind her. Drops of gray-brown
water flicked up with each step and splattered against the
sides of her calves and the back of her legs, and her skin
prickled with the chill from the moisture. But it didn’t slow
her down any. She ran on, bursting out of the thicket into
brilliant sunlight, and then she dashed, blinking away tears
as she skimmed across the grass to the cool shady porch of
her home.
Her mom was there, tapping quietly away on her laptop.
Writing a new story, or something. She looked up at
Yvonne through round wire-framed glasses with eyes that
seemed permanently laughing.
“Back so soon, Yvonne? What happened to Ella? I
thought you two were playing.”
“I left her. She’s horrid. Not fit for human company.
All she does is talk about cooking.”
“Well isn’t that nice.”
“No it’s not. All she wants to do is cook baby animals.
It’s barbaric.”
“Well I’m sure a few vegetables wouldn’t hurt her. But
really—”
“I’m not playing with her! She’s evil!” said Yvonne,
stamping her foot, which slapped against the wood of the
porch.
“Now Yvonne. Let’s be reasonable. She’s a perfectly
nice girl, just your age, and living out here you know there
just isn’t anyone else for you to play with.”
Yvonne fumed, thinking it might be better to be alone,
going crazy with imaginary playmates, and then her mother
caught sight of Ella, strolling down the hill towards them.

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 Chapter 1

“Well hello, Mrs. Roberts!” Ella called out as she reached

them.
“Hi Ella. Yvonne and I were just talking about your
cooking. I hear it’s really quite amazing these days. You
make your mother very proud.”
“Oh thank you. You’ll have to let me share a dish with
you sometime so you can try it yourself,” she replied
beaming happily.
“I’ve become a vegetarian,” stated Yvonne in a cool low
monotone.
“Vegetarian? You ate hamburgers last night!”
“Um, you see, um, I have a rule. If it weighs more that
500 pounds I can eat it. So naturally beef is OK.”
“So you can eat elephants, and um blue whales, and well
maybe even dolphins…” elaborated Ella.
“No. I certainly don’t eat dolphins!” spluttered Yvonne.
“But they’re so cute!” replied Ella, enjoying the look of
Yvonne’s face, which was turning a dark kind of purple.
“What does ‘cute’ have to do with it?” asked Yvonne’s
mom, a little surprised.
“Do you think you’d like to try my veal?” asked Ella. “I
make a mean Veal Parmigiana.”

* * *
Yvonne jumped off the porch launching herself into the
grass at a run, enjoying the slimy cool green of the morning
dew in the lawn as she padded through it. Short green
pieces of damp mown grass attached themselves around her
ankles as she circled around in an expanding spiral, heading
towards the gravel road that bordered the house. As she
moved she watched for bees, careful to avoid them,
remembering the one time she’d accidentally stepped on

6
The Tasty Baby Animals

one and had been stung by it. But in the cool of the
morning there were none to worry about, and so she ran
without even having to slow down.
She picked her way slowly across the gravel, placing her
bare feet carefully to avoid being bruised by any of the
larger stones. She was on her way across, towards the creek
at the other side to see if the frog eggs had hatched yet
making tadpoles, and to look for dragon flies and water
striders. After that maybe she’d just play in the mud.
Anything to keep from getting bored, anything that would
keep her away from that Ella creature, that strange baby-
animal-cooking maniac who was her neighbor…
“Hey Yvonne! Come look at this!”
She froze, half way across the street, and turned slowly
to see the wide-eyed excited face of the person in question
herself, running up to her while gesturing in a vaguely
crazed fashion.
“Look! There’s a dead deer by the side of the road over
there. It must have been hit by a car in the night,” Ella said
with an exceptionally cheerful tone of voice.
“How dreadful. What a horrible thing.”
“Come! You have to come help me get a wheelbarrow.
That way we can haul it home.”
“Why ever would you want to do that? Wouldn’t it be
easier just to bury it by the side of road?” Yvonne asked
with a sense of foreboding.
“Bury it? That would be a waste of good meat! And
besides, I’ve never had a chance to butcher anything as large
as a deer. I wonder if I can borrow a chainsaw?”
She rushed off, obviously expecting Yvonne to follow
her. But Yvonne just stared fixedly after her, paused silently
for a moment, and then just slowly backed away. Ella didn’t
notice when she made her escape, dashing off to the creek
where she spent the rest of the morning lurking in the

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 Chapter 1

water, chasing fish and tadpoles and looking for pretty

water-rounded pebbles and slowly covering herself in dark
sticky mud.
Around about noon she made her way home across the
road, looking carefully to make sure she wasn’t seen.
The mud had dried enough in the hot midday sun by the
time she reached the house that it started to crack and fall
off in big gray flakes. Yvonne looked at it and debated
whether to try to rub the rest of it off before going inside,
and whether or not it might be better strategy to be
atrociously filthy when her mother saw her. Perhaps if
Mom were reduced to a state of absolute stunned silence at
the very beginning it might go easier…
As she walked over to the porch she saw something
move by the side of the road in the drainage area where the
deeper grass grew. It seemed a little deer-like. She hesitated
for a second, then slowly walked back to have a look. As
she got closer she could see it clearly cradled in the grass, a
soft spotted gray form lying there quietly and motionlessly.
It was a fawn. Hiding.

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The Tasty Baby Animals

Yvonne stared silently at the fawn for a moment, then

quietly murmured “I better figure out how to hide you
before Ella finds you.” Then she turned on her heels and
ran inside.
Her mom was at her desk, tapping away at the keyboard.
On the shelf in front of her were printed copies of the
result. Paper-back volumes wrapped with dark-skinned
damsels with closed eyes and mouths contorted by
passionate smiles. Deeply blushing maidens whose
unabashed expressions hinted at something rather other
than shame. Unspeakably wretched romances, the whole lot
of them. Something only the mentally defective could
enjoy, in Yvonne’s very earnest opinion. But apparently
they were an honest and fun way to make a living, or at least
that’s what her mom claimed.
“I need to borrow your laptop,” she said, grabbing it
from her.
“Hey, I’m doing work!” protested her mother mildly.
“Mom, you can write that stuff in your sleep. I need to
do some research. Now!”
“HEY! Give that back!”
But was too late. Yvonne was off at a run, yelling
behind her “Ten minutes. I’ll bring it back. Promise,” as
she exited the room.
Twenty minutes later she returned, looking a little sullen.
“Hmmmm,” she said, handing the computer back.
“Hmm?” replied her mother.
“Um. Yes. Apparently it’s not so easy to raise a baby
deer,” Yvonne said sadly.
“Oh?”
“Yes. They have a habit of dying on you rather suddenly.
Delicate digestion, so they say.”

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 Chapter 1

“And um dare I ask how the subject came up?”

“It’s illegal too. To keep wild animals.”
“That would be a problem. But I wonder why you might
be interested in, ah, departing from the strict letter of the
law,” asked her mother, tapping the ends of her fingers
together, in an expression of thoughtful concern.
“I’ll go ask Miss Lafferty,” she announced, and with that
she skipped out of the room.
Her mother sighed, shook her head and returned to
writing her book, hoping that whatever Yvonne was up to, it
would at least make good material for a story.
Miss Lafferty’s house was just a half-mile up the street, a
white clapboard building in the grass beside the road. It
was her office as well, so a small brown carved wooden sign
with golden lettering hung there reading:

Miss Lafferty, DVM

Extraordinary

Veterinary Services

Yvonne rushed past the sign so fast that she left it swaying
back and forth in her wake.
She slowed down abruptly as she reached the clinic
entrance, only barely managing to stop before colliding with
the door. Then panting heavily she threw it open and
marched in.
She stepped into chilled darkness. A soft distant bark
broke the silence and was echoed by the rustling of feathers
and a bird cawing. Then it was quiet again and she had to
wait for a few seconds for her surroundings to fade into
sight as her eyes adjusted from the bright outside to the dim
interior of the room. It was a small waiting area with chairs,
a white linoleum floor and yellow walls with pictures of

10
The Tasty Baby Animals

birds drawn so that they seemed to fly through them. There

was also a counter with a metal bell on it over by the side.
She stepped over to the counter, looking around to see if
she could find anyone. But there were no traces of people
anywhere, just gentle mewing from a cat somewhere off
inside. The birds continued to cackle from a cage just
visible at a corner down a narrow hallway.
She hesitated for a moment, and then shrugged and
pressed the button that rang the bell. It made a clear
ringing tone that filled the interior of the room. Yvonne let
it fade away, wondering what it would conjure up for her.
But all that seemed to happen was that the dog barked
louder.
She waited for a few seconds, wondering what to do
next, whether to ring the bell again or to try calling out, or
whether she should come back later. While she was
debating the alternatives she was interrupted by the sound
of a low moan. She jumped forward, standing up on her
toes with her belly on the counter, holding on to the far side
with her finger tips and pulling herself partially over. Then
she cried out in a bit of a panic,
“Good Lord, are you OK?”
There was a small gray-haired lady lying on the floor on
the far side, rubbing rather weary pale blue eyes. She
answered “yes,” and rose rather unsteadily to her feet. It
was Miss Lafferty.
“Sorry. Drifted off to sleep. It’s lambing season. Keeps
me busy at night this time of year.” Then she yawned.
“Oh. Sorry to wake you up.”
“Let’s see, you must be Mrs. Roberts’ little girl, if I’m
remembering that right,” she said, fixing her eyes on
Yvonne.

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 Chapter 1

“Yes, I’m Yvonne.”

“So now, tell me Yvonne. What brings you by? A dear
one is unwell?” she asked while scanning around the room
and then looking carefully at Yvonne’s pockets to see if
some animal friend were hidden there.
“Well no, not exactly.”
“Oh?”
“Yes, well you see a deer was killed in the road last
night.”
Miss Lafferty frowned, and interjected “Folks drive way
too fast on this road. You’d think they’d know better. Raises
all sorts of dust on the gravel and is a right menace for the
wildlife. You’d best be careful yourself when you cross it,
young lady.”
“Yes I always am. Anyway, this morning I found a fawn.
In the grass by the side of the road. I think it was the
deer’s.”

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The Tasty Baby Animals

“Now I hope you didn’t touch it, did you,” asked Miss
Lafferty very pointedly.
“No. I came right here. But I’m worried that Ella might
try to eat her.”
“Eat her? The fawn you mean?”
“Yes, Ella went to get a wheelbarrow take the deer home.
She said she wanted to cook it. I don’t want to think about
what she’d do if she finds the fawn.”
“This must be the same Ella who asked me at church last
week what kind of animal might go best with a lemon-sage
sauce.”
“Yes that’s the one.”
“Well maybe we should go have a look then,” she said.
Then she gathered a small animal carrier and a blanket and
they headed out the door together.
As they walked together beside the road back to where
the fawn was hiding, Yvonne turned to Miss Lafferty, and
asked, “Do you think, you know, that I might be able to
keep the fawn?”
“Certainly not.”
“Why not? I’d take care of it.”
“Well what would you do with it when it grew up? A full
size deer is not something to play with. Especially if it has
antlers.”
“Well maybe we could let it go when it got old enough?”
“It wouldn’t know the first thing about how to live in the
wild on its own. And it wouldn’t be scared of people at all,
so likely as not it would get shot the first day of hunting
season. Rather than that, it would be simpler if you just let
Ella eat her to begin with.”
“Oh.”

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“Really it’s better if you let the wildlife rescue people

take care of her. They’ll bring her up with other deer and
keep her away from people so that she stays wild. If you
want a pet you should get one you can keep. I could help
find you a nice puppy you know.”
“I’m not sure my mom will let me keep a dog.”
“And she’d let you keep a deer?”
“If it were cute enough.”
Miss Lafferty just laughed. Then she turned to Yvonne
and said, “Puppies can be cute too.”
On the way back they spotted Ella. She was in a pit off
by the side of the road digging with a shovel. Beside her
was a wheelbarrow and the bloody broken body of a deer.
As they walked up to her she paused, wiped her brow with a
dirty hand and then caught sight of them.
“Hey Yvonne, why did you run off ? You have to help
me bury the deer!”
“I thought you were going to cook it,” replied Yvonne,
trying to avoid looking at the bloody mess in the
wheelbarrow.
“You know my mom just doesn’t understand the ideals
embodied by fine cooking,” lamented Ella sadly.
“Ideals?” asked Miss Lafferty.
“A commitment to fine fresh ingredients,” Ella answered
pointing to the deer.
“Yes, along with ‘an artistic sense of balance in flavors
and seasonings’,” added Yvonne while holding up her index
feature as if to lecture the point, quoting one of Ella’s oft
repeated maxims.
Miss Lafferty looked dismayed.

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The Tasty Baby Animals

“Yvonne, you have to come help me dig the grave. I’m

getting tired,” insisted Ella, wiping her face with a dirty
hand that left a muddy streak on her cheek.
Yvonne sighed, turned to Miss Lafferty, pointed to a
clump of tall grass further down beside the road, and
whispered to her, “The fawn was hiding over there. Why
don’t you see if you can find it while I keep Ella busy.”
Then she turned to Ella and said “OK, but you better show
me where to dig. I’ve never dug a grave before,” and she
jumped down beside Ella and took the shovel from her.
A few minutes later Miss Lafferty returned holding the
animal carrier wrapped in the blanket in her arms.
“I found her,” she said. “I’ll keep her at the clinic until
the wildlife rehab people can come by to collect her,” and
then she marched back towards her home, soft bleating
sounds emerging from the cage in her arms as she carried it
away.
“Thanks Miss Lafferty,” Yvonne called after her.
“Well? What did she find? What’s she have in that
cage?” snapped Ella.
“Um.”
“Well what was it?”
“It was a fawn,” admitted Yvonne gloomily.
“A fawn! And you hid it from me! What kind of friend
are you?”
“Well, ah, I thought that since you were already busy
cooking her mother, um, you wouldn’t need the baby too.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. I wouldn’t cook a baby deer. What
kind of monster do you think I am?” Then she scowled
and said, “I have a headache. I’m going home. You take
care of this,” she said, waving to the deer, and then she
marched away.

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 Chapter 1

Yvonne turned, looked at the dead deer, and then sighed,

feeling sorry for it. The she started digging again with the
shovel. Slowly.
Two days later Yvonne’s arms were still sore from all the
digging. That morning she was rereading a book by herself.
She was still annoyed with Ella for leaving her with the deer,
and so was avoiding her and had been staying home. So
when the door bell rang, she wasn’t in a hurry to answer it.
Slowly descending the stairs to the entrance she found
her mother had got to the door ahead of her.
“Well hello Miss Lafferty! So kind of you to drop by
again. It’s almost as if you read my mind. I was planning to
visit you myself. I have a little present for you,” said her
mother to the guest, who much to Yvonne’s relief, definitely
wasn’t Ella. “I’ve just finished my next book. And if you
like, I’d like to give you a preview of the manuscript. Just to
get your reaction before I send it to my editor.”
Miss Lafferty blushed brightly, and with down-turned
eyes and an embarrassed smile quietly admitted “You know
I love your stories. I’d like that very much.”
“Please come in. I’ll go get you a copy,” she said,
dashing off upstairs to her study.
“Hi Miss Lafferty,” said Yvonne as she came to the
entrance. “You can’t seriously be interested in reading one
of Mom’s ridiculous romances—”
A soft bark interrupted her.
“What’s that?”
Miss Lafferty giggled. “I brought a little friend to show
you.” She moved to face Yvonne and showed her what
she’d been cradling in her arms slightly out of sight inside
the opening of her coat. It was a little puppy, no bigger
than a small cat with floppy ears and yellowish furry hair.

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The Tasty Baby Animals

“The Shuttleworth’s dog Sally had a litter not long ago

and they’re looking for good homes for all the puppies,” she
said, placing the dog in Yvonne’s arms. “What do you say,
cute enough for your mom?”

But Yvonne didn’t say anything at all. She just carefully

held the puppy with one arm while petting it with the other,
admiring its big soft eyes and jumping a little, startled, when
it licked her nose with a little pink tongue.
Yvonne’s mother returned, handing Miss Lafferty a thick
envelope.
“Here you go. I hope you enjoy it. Please let me know
what you think of the story. There’s still time to make
improvements,” she said, and then she noticed the puppy.

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 Chapter 1

She turned to face Yvonne and then after a slight pause

tentatively began very gently patting the puppy’s soft head.
“How very sweet,” she said.
“Yes, isn’t she,” said Miss Lafferty. “Now you won’t
mind, if I leave her with you?”
Yvonne’s mother was surprised, but then after a moment
her expression saddened and she stammered “But, um, well,
um, I don’t think we could—”
“Now you don’t want me to take her away again, do
you?” Miss Lafferty a little forcefully, all the while smiling.
“No. I don’t,” Yvonne’s mom admitted. Then she took
the puppy from Yvonne and began hugging it herself, all the
while petting it.
“Well that settles it. And since I can’t wait to start
enjoying this story I’ll be off. Be sure to give me a call if
you have any worries. About the puppy I mean.”
“Thank you so very much,” said Yvonne, opening the
door and seeing Miss Lafferty out. The puppy barked
goodbye as she walked down the steps, and then Yvonne
returned and insisted, “Hey mom, give me a turn!”

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The Tasty Baby Animals

Chapter 2
Yvonne lay her sleeping bag down beside the crate on
the cool smooth linoleum of the kitchen floor, and then
tucked herself up inside. The hard floor pressed through
the nylon of the bag numbing her rear and the back of her
shoulders. It wasn’t painful but she wondered how it would
feel after an hour or two. She rotated on her side to see if it
were better that way. The numb spots changed but it wasn’t
any more comfortable.
A snuffling came from the crate. It was Izzy. Her new
puppy. Sleeping uneasily in a tiny partition of her crate,
almost filling up the interior of it, curled up on a soft white
towel.
“Hi Izzy,” she whispered to the dog, who yawned, then
tucked her head between her fore-paws and and went back
to sleep.
“Here Yvonne, why don’t you put this underneath you.
It’s better than sleeping directly on the floor.” Turning
around she saw her mom, who handed her a thin blue foam
pad. She put it on the ground beside her, and then wriggled
until she and her sleeping bag were resting on it. The pad
felt warm compared to the floor, and she was surprised how
much softer the ground felt through the thin layer of foam.
“You know you don’t have to sleep next to Izzy,” added
her mom.
“She’ll be lonely without me. It’s her first night without
her brothers and sisters next to her too.”
“Well, I hope you manage to get some sleep like this.”
“Now Mom, don’t worry. I’ll be fine,” she answered
resolutely.

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But in the morning she was definitely tired. She’d been

woken up three times during the night by Izzy’s soft yelping
and she’d had to take her outside to pee each time. This
had meant five minutes of walking in circles on the grass
under the darkly shimmering stars, accompanied by the
music of cicadas chirping and leaves rustling in the cool
spring breeze. It had been fun and she’d enjoyed it, but
now she couldn’t keep her eyes open.
“You were worse as a baby. Believe me,” said her
mother, patting Izzy on the head.
“I bet I was cuter. And you didn’t have to take me out-
side when I woke you up.”
“Hmmm. Well, you were cute, but I’m not sure you
were cuter—”
“Ha!” snorted Yvonne.
“…and I certainly did walk around with you outside,
once or twice, when you had trouble falling asleep.”
“You were just a wimp Mom. Admit it,” replied Yvonne,
grabbing Izzy from her. “It’s not that hard at all, looking
after Izzy.” Then she turned and headed out the door,
grabbing a little leash as she went. Clipping it on to Izzy,
she put her down and led her out the door.
“I’m not going to be able to carry you everywhere you
know. Especially when you get bigger,” she said to Izzy by
way of explanation.
The world was a brightly flowering landscape sculpted in
glittering smell, and Yvonne’s short-legged long furry-nosed
companion was made to sniff and discover it. White
butterflies bounced wildly from puff of air to puff of air in
the hard crystalline blue of the morning sky while Izzy
repeated the choreography of their dance in the grassy field
below.
Yvonne yawned, rubbing her eyes with one hand while
the other was tugged gently by the leash. The raw morning

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The Tasty Baby Animals

light beat at her eyes and she looked around for shade
where she could hide from it. There were trees off to her
right, but she suddenly felt too tired and they seemed too
far away for her to want to go over to them. So she knelt
down, sighed, and then slowly slumped over until she was
lying on the grass with her legs curled off to the side.
Closing her eyes she abandoned herself to the soft spring
breeze and the soft humming of a bumblebee’s wings as it
floated over the grass looking for its next flower.
A snuffling sound approached, and then two little furry
paws planted themselves gently on her chest and a warm
wet little tongue began licking her all over her face.

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Yvonne giggled. “Cut it out Izzy, that tickles!” she said

as she wrapped her arms around the dog and tried to sit up.
Izzy kept licking her.
“So that’s what you’ve been up to!” she heard from
across the meadow. It was Ella. She was marching across
the grass towards her. Yvonne sat up. She might have felt a
little worried about what Ella would say to her after the
dead deer, but somehow with Izzy in her lap it didn’t seem
to worry her.
“Hi Ella. Come meet my new puppy. Her name is Izzy.”
“Oh how nice,” Ella said while reaching down to pat her.
“She’s cute. And I can’t think anyone would want to
cook her,” Yvonne said, eyeing Ella carefully.
“Actually there are some Korean recipes. But you know
my mom hid all my good cookbooks. So you really don’t
have anything to worry about.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah. I guess I overdid it a little with all the veal. She
gave me a vegetarian cookbook and told me to use that
instead. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to make tofu taste
edible!”
“You should try cooking some vegetables. They’re good
for—”
“Don’t be ridiculous!” Ella scowled. “Say, I wonder, if
um, your mom, … er, well, might enjoy having me cook a
little for her?”
“Hmm. She is actually a little weak when it comes to
saying no to food,” Yvonne had to admit.
“Excellent! Let’s go have a look at what’s in your
refrigerator!”
Yvonne sighed and then walked Ella and Izzy back to the
house. Ella’s eyes lit up like lamps when she found a thick

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slab of beef sitting in the refrigerator. She cooed with

delight over the way it elastically bulged when she prodded
it with a finger and when she sniffed its dark coppery
bloody smell. Yvonne left Izzy barking excitedly at Ella’s
feet while Ella fawned over the beef, and then she went
upstairs to inform her mother that Ella would be cooking
dinner.
When she returned downstairs Ella was busy sizing up
the kitchen, rifling through the cabinets in search of pots
and pans and humming a waltz loudly and out of tune. It
was probably the “Blue Danube,” but actually it was hard to
tell. Izzy was sulking under a table looking dismayed by all
the commotion.

“Ella dear, I’m going to take Izzy out for a walk. This all
looks like too much excitement for her.”

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“Oh don’t mind me Yvonne. I’ll be fine. La la la la la, la

la, la la…” she chanted while holding up a long sharp knife
overhead and twirling on her toe.
Yvonne grabbed Izzy and departed.
The birds were greeting the spring with tuneless violent
song as they emerged from the front doorway of the house.
“They’re just like Ella, aren’t they,” observed Yvonne, a
bit dismayed by the racket.
Izzy barked cheerfully back at the birds, who replied in a
chorus of squawking, warbling and twittering. Yvonne
laughed, and clipping the leash to Izzy’s collar, put her down
on the ground, and with a nod, suggested “why don’t you
take me where you want to go.” Without further ado, Izzy
did just that, jumping to her feet and wagging her tail in a
blur of excitement. She raced off snorting wildly in every
direction, bouncing from rock to flower to plant all over the
meadow, her little legs half-buried in the grass.
“You’re just a big nose with legs attached, aren’t you?”
asked Yvonne with a giggle as she followed Izzy at a run.
About ten minutes later they drifted over the road and
on to the stream on the other side. Izzy stopped at the
water’s edge, sniffed at the water curiously for a few
seconds, and then after testing it a bit with a paw, jumped in
and began thrashing about, chasing the little fish and
tadpoles hiding in it. They both splashed in the shallow
water for a few minutes getting wet. Yvonne steered Izzy
clear of the muddier parts of the river bank, as she wasn’t
interested in giving Izzy a bath just yet, and so eventually
they crossed over a pebbled stretch of the stream and
reached the other side. There Izzy climbed up the bank,
and just as Yvonne reached her, shook herself violently
spraying everything about her with the water from her wet
fur.

24
The Tasty Baby Animals

“Ahhh!” shrieked Yvonne with surprise. “Hey! You

made me wet!”
Izzy turned and barked at her, and she laughed, and
replied, “OK, next time I’ll be more careful.”
Then they gamboled among the trees on the far bank of
the stream. Yvonne enjoyed the sticky rough feeling of
pine needles under her feet as she walked on the soft, gently
yielding ground following Izzy as they explored the dappled
green and brown kaleidoscope world of tangled underbrush
between the thick tree-trunks.
They made their way uphill away from the stream,
eventually coming to an open path. It was paved with light
brown dirt mixed with occasional round gray pebbles, and
covered in places with light and dark green moss. Yvonne
led them up it for a while as it snaked between thick trunks
of birch, maple and oak trees.
“There’s a clearing at the top of the hill. I think you’ll
like it,” she explained to Izzy, who turned and looked at
Yvonne with big happy eyes and a beautifully pink tongue
which dangled from her panting mouth.
The path meandered in the uneven shade, which was
dappled here and there by a sudden bright spot of glowing
sunlight where it shone through a gap in the trees and lit up
the ground below. As they got close to the clearing Izzy
began to slow, and eventually she started to whimper softly.
“You must be tired,” Yvonne remarked, picking her up.
Izzy wagged her tail and put her muzzle on Yvonne’s
shoulder. Her fur was still slightly damp, and the moisture
sank into Yvonne’s clothing cooling her pleasantly as she
walked the last few steps. The path passed between two
large round boulders half buried in the ground right at the
entrance to the clearing. Yvonne climbed up onto one of
them which had a good view of the clearing, and sat down
with Izzy in her lap. She patted the puppy gently as she

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 Chapter 2

rested her head on Yvonne’s knee and prepared to take a

nap.
Yvonne glanced over into the clearing where something
moving had attracted her attention, and their eyes met for
an instant. Darkly round and shining in the sunlight like
jewels set in brown fur. She caught of glimpse of a long
graceful doe: a dark black nose set in a white mouth, brown
ears with soft white interiors angled to face her, and a long
graceful neck and slender legs connected by a furred barrel
of a trunk. Then Izzy raised her head and yipped with
excitement at the deer, which vanished completely in a flash,
disappearing in the woods at the far end of the clearing.
“Beautiful wasn’t she, eh?” Yvonne said softly to Izzy,
while scratching her between the ears. Izzy lowered her
head again, pouted cutely back at her for a second, and then
went to sleep.
* * *
When Yvonne finally returned back inside the house
carrying Izzy in her arms she was embraced by the heavy
smells of wine, bacon and full bodied beef stew wafting in
the air. She stepped into the kitchen and found the
counters in shambles, covered in knives and various
chopped vegetables. Ella and Yvonne’s mom were off to
the side debating the fine points of a recipe in a thick
French cookbook.
“Bœuf Bourguignon,” observed Ella by way of
explanation.
“It was the only way I could get her to cook something
with vegetables in it,” added her mom.
“Oh. Looks complicated.”
“Not really,” said Ella. “It will only take a few more
hours. Just in time for supper.”
“And, um, so, ah, what’s for lunch then?” asked Yvonne.

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The Tasty Baby Animals

Ella and Yvonne’s mom turned to look at each other and

they both smiled.
“We haven’t thought of anything for that yet,” answered
Ella.
“Why don’t you make yourself a sandwich?” suggested
Yvonne’s mom, helpfully.
Yvonne scowled, and then began fixing herself some-
thing to eat. Her mom and Ella resumed their intricate pre-
parations for dinner.
Three hours later just as Yvonne had finished setting the
dishes out on the dining table the front door bell rang.
“Could you get that Yvonne,” said her mom. “That will
be Miss Lafferty. We invited her for dinner.”
“Oh, I thought the extra place we set was for Ella’s
mom?”
“Oh no, we couldn’t have invited her,” replied Ella. “It
wouldn’t do to have her see this beautiful piece of beef.
She’s quite off meat you see.”
“So we asked Miss Lafferty instead. We really need
guests for a fine dinner like this,” added her mom.
Yvonne ran to the door to open it with Izzy chasing her
and barking at her feet. As she got there she picked her up
in order to avoid any escapes at the entrance, and then she
opened the door.
“Why hello Yvonne! How is Izzy?” said Miss Lafferty.
As she came in she stopped and began petting Izzy’s head.
“She has legs you know. I hope you aren’t carrying her
everywhere.” Then pausing for a second and sniffing the air
thoughtfully, she added, “That smells wonderful. What
have you been cooking?”
“Ella found a big piece of beef in our refrigerator, and
she and Mom have been acting like witches cooking up a
potion in a cauldron for hours now.”

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Miss Lafferty laughed. “Well from the smell of it, they

did manage to make a little magic. I think dinner will be
worth it. But how is Izzy?”
“Oh, she’s wonderful,” replied Yvonne enthusiastically.
“I don’t get much sleep, but we have a lot of fun. I’ve been
taking her with me everywhere.”
“Wonderful. Just let her use her feet sometimes. It’s
good for her.”
“Oh I know. Here, I better take her out for a quick walk
before dinner,” said Yvonne. She showed Miss Lafferty
inside, and then rushed outside with Izzy, who showed signs
of needing to go to the bathroom.
Returning inside 15 minutes later she was met with a wall
of fragrant beefy smells as she walked in the door, and she
instantly felt powerfully hungry.
They all sat down for dinner to rich Bourguignon stew.
Potatoes au gratin. Asparagus and roasted red paper with
almonds. Scalloped tomatoes and a watercress salad. It was
all very tasty and for a few minutes they dined to the sound
of smacking lips and gnawing teeth, followed by loud heavy
swallowing intermixed with quick gasps for air.
In the midst of one of these brief aerobic pauses
Yvonne found herself overwhelmed with an unaccustomed
feeling of gratitude for her friend. Lifting her head briefly
from her plate, she remarked “Ella…this is really delicious.”
The rest of the table murmured agreement while Izzy
whined on the floor hoping for scraps. But nobody dared
feed her with Miss Lafferty present.
“Why thank you. But Mrs. Roberts helped with all the
side dishes, so you can thank her too,” replied Ella, who
wiped her face with a napkin and began beaming with a
wide smile.
“Please call me Elaine, dear. After making me a dinner
like this you should.”

28
The Tasty Baby Animals

Ella’s smile got even wider when Miss Lafferty began

thanking her too. Ella began puffing up with pride like a
balloon, and Yvonne was worrying if it might be possible
for her to pop when Miss Lafferty began complimenting
her mom on her latest ridiculous book.
“…And when Amelie is sniffling with a cold, and her
sweetheart gives her a gumdrop,”
“Yes, yes,” said her mom, encouraging her.
“And then she puts it away in her pocket, and cherishes
it, …”
Yvonne groaned quietly to herself and tried to ignore
what she was hearing so that it wouldn’t spoil her appetite.
“And then after they fight she takes out the gumdrop,
and it’s all covered with dust and lint, and she picks the dust
off the candy, piece by piece…”
Miss Lafferty’s eyes began brimming over with tears
while Yvonne’s mom held her arms up clenched to her
chest in an expression of empathy tinged with deep, hidden
joy. Meanwhile Ella was deflating rapidly, and actually she
even began to look rather disgusted.
“And then she eats the candy so she can taste again the
love she feels inside…”
“Aaack!” It was Ella, making retching sounds. Miss
Lafferty was sobbing, and happy tears were rolling down
Yvonne’s mom’s face. Yvonne covered up her ears and
closed her eyes. It was all too painful.
It was a few minutes before her mom and Miss Lafferty
returned to their senses and the conversation resumed
normally again. Ella and Yvonne somehow managed to get
a little bit of their appetite back.
In between bites Ella turned to Yvonne, and whispered
under her breath, “I had no idea the romance novel thing
was so awful. I feel so sorry for you.”

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 Chapter 2

“Yes. Well she’s a good mom. But those books… achh”

whispered Yvonne back.
Dessert was Baked Alaska, which required a little
intermission for some final preparation in the oven before it
was brought out, covered in cognac-fueled blue flames, by
Ella under close supervision by Yvonne’s mom. And then
they dug into the brown meringue and the creamy apricot
ice-cream that lay cradled on smooth cake bedding.
A contented “Mmmm” echoed round the room.
Afterwards the grownups each enjoyed a small cup of
dessert wine while Yvonne and Ella slumped over in their
chairs, overwhelmed with their rich dinner and feeling a
little sleepy.
“They weren’t so bad,” said Ella.
“Bad? What could possibly have been bad?” asked
Yvonne.
“The vegetables.”
Miss Lafferty laughed. It had been remarkable, but
they’d all actually seen it. Ella eating some vegetables.

30
The Tasty Baby Animals

“Say,” said Miss Lafferty after a pause. “Lambing season

is over, and I’m planning to take a day off next week. I was
thinking of going canoeing. Do you think you two might
like to come along?”
“That sounds like it would be fun,” said Yvonne’s mom.
You two could use a little more exercise, especially after that
meal!
“I’m sure my mom wouldn’t mind letting me go,”
answered Ella. “That would be fun.”
“Do you think I could bring Izzy,” asked Yvonne.
“I can’t see why not,’” replied Miss Lafferty.

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 Chapter 3

Chapter 3
Yvonne awoke in the early morning when Izzy padded
into her room, tail wagging and snuffling, obviously looking
for something to eat. Yvonne jumped up with a start. She’d
had had trouble getting to sleep, too excited about the plans
for the day to be able to settle down. But now opening her
eyes, she shook off the exhaustion with ease as she looked
at the bright light streaming through the window. “It’s
going to be good weather today,” she thought as she caught
sight of the bright blue and green pictured in the window.
“Today’s our trip!” she cried as she sprang lightly to her
feet. Izzy barked back at her with excitement.
She dressed quickly while Izzy panted loudly watching
her, and then she said, “Sorry to keep you waiting. Let’s get
you out for a quick walk and feed you something.”
They ran down the stairs and outside into the buzzing of
a brilliant bright blue morning. Izzy sprinted away across
the grass and Yvonne chased after her as they raced up to
the the top of the little hill in front of the house. When
they got there they caught sight of Miss Lafferty, who was
slowly drifting towards them driving a large station wagon
with a bright red canoe strapped to a rack on the roof.
They ran down to the road to meet her as she pulled up.
“Good morning Miss Lafferty!” chimed Yvonne as Miss
Lafferty rolled down her window and Izzy barked excitedly
at the car.
“Hello dear! You look like you’re all ready to go.”
“Well we just need to wake up Ella and eat breakfast.
Then we’ll be ready.”
Miss Lafferty got out of the car, and Yvonne led her
and Izzy back up to the house. There she put out a bowl of

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The Tasty Baby Animals

food for Izzy while her mother began making breakfast for
everyone while chatting away with Miss Lafferty. Yvonne
left them there while she ran off to fetch Ella. She ran out
over the hill and on over to her house, burst onto her porch,
and then rang the bell, still panting heavily.
A very sleepy Ella answered the door, rubbing her eyes
heavily, her hair in curlers and the rest of her still dressed in
pajamas.
“Good lord! What are you doing like that? You’re
supposed to be ready to go. What have you done with your
hair?”
“Enhancing my natural feminine charm. With wavy
ringletted hair,” she proclaimed, smiling proudly and
broadly between half open eyes, before yawning loudly.
“Here here. We need to get you ready to go! Why aren’t
you dressed?” replied Yvonne brusquely, as she herded Ella
towards her room. When they got there, Yvonne sat her
down on her bed, and ordered her to remove the curlers
while she found her clothing to wear, and after a few
minutes of scrambling and squirming the still yawning Ella
was dressed in mismatched socks, a vividly bright pink shirt
and emerald shorts. Then she dragged her bodily out of
the house, still dripping plastic curlers from her now wildly
disarranged hair.
Towing her at the end of her arm she brought her back
home a few minutes later, where they were fed a large hot
breakfast of pancakes, sausages, grits and scones. Pouring
this food into Ella gradually seemed to wake her up, and
progressively she yawned less and less and her eyes
brightened and seemed to sparkle. By the end of her third
sausage she was cackling away happily.
“Say, how do you like my new hairdo?” she said, pointing
to the yard-wide spherical matted mass of tangled golden
hair that had resulted from yanking her curlers out while
galloping across the meadow at full speed.

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“What is it? Some kind of insane afro?” asked Yvonne’s

mom under her breath with some astonishment.

“I think it will look a little better after we comb it,”

announced Yvonne, feeling a little guilty about her part in
the disaster. So she ran to get a hairbrush, and then amused
herself by brushing while Ella slowly cleared the table of
breakfast sausage. By the time she was finished the result
even looked rather attractive.
By then they were all done with breakfast and so they
began collecting their things for departure.
“It’s a shame we’re leaving you here while we go have
fun,” said Miss Lafferty to Yvonne’s mother as they headed
out the door.

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The Tasty Baby Animals

“Oh don’t worry about it. I need to get started on my

next story. Perhaps I should add a canoeing scene? It could
get romantic…”
“Why what a lovely idea—”
Yvonne and Ella gagged and raced out the door. After a
few minutes Miss Lafferty joined them in the car.
“Now be sure to pay attention to everything you see so
that we can tell Elaine about it. It will all be good material
for her story,” she said as she stepped into the driver’s seat.
“Oh good. Let’s go visit a swamp. The fetid smell,
damp mud and biting insects will make the perfect setting,”
observed Ella, smirking.
“Now I wouldn’t give Mom any ideas,” said Yvonne.
“You’d be amazed at what she can work with. I can see it
now—‘Swamp Romance: More than unusually stinky.’ ”
Ella and Yvonne twittered in the back seat together while
Miss Lafferty looked back in the rear mirror smiling at
them.
“Now I’m sure Elaine could do surprising things with a
swamp, but as it happens the lake I’m taking us to is a
beautiful crystal blue, an absolutely perfect place for us to
paddle around in. The natural setting for romance, I’m
sure.”
Yvonne was appalled, but Ella was quick to reassure her.
“Don’t worry about her,” she whispered. “I’ve got a plan.
To de-romanticize the trip.”
“Oh good. I knew I could count on you,” answered
Yvonne.
Miss Lafferty started the car, and they headed out on the
road. Yvonne held Izzy in her lap and let her stick her nose
out the window as they drove slowly down the gravel road,
and with her little pink tongue lolling out of her mouth she
sniffed happily at every new thing that they passed. The

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 Chapter 3

trees waved their leaves at them as they drifted in and out of

patches of shade and brilliant light, so that the entire world
seemed to flicker in emerald and yellow, carving the shapes
of the branches in the back of their eyes. The car tires
grated on the gravel as they moved along the road
serenaded by the loud morning singing of the birds in the
trees.
“How about some music while we drive?” asked Miss
Lafferty. “I thought it might be fun to play your namesake,
Ella.”
“My namesake?”
“Yes. Ella Fitzgerald of course,” she said, then she
pressed the play button on the CD player in the dashboard.
And so they continued down the road with the soft melody
of Ella’s ‘Summertime’ drifting on the wind.
A half-hour later they started to see occasional glimpses
of blue water through gaps in the trees on the left side of
the car as they snaked along the small, winding gravel bed
of the road. The road twisted for some distance along the
rugged side of a steep hill and the car chased it up and
down and side to side with the engine whining in high gear
as as they climbed and descended the steeper parts.
“I’m glad you gave me this towel,” said Yvonne to Miss
Lafferty after a while. “Otherwise I’d be rather wet by
now.” It was Izzy. She was now drooling everywhere, and
the towel Yvonne had placed on her lap underneath her was
slowly getting covered in it.
“We’d better stop for a little bit,” replied Miss Lafferty.
Izzy will be feeling a little carsick by now with all this
turning. Here, we’ll stop for a look.” As the road passed
over the top of the ridge there was an open area with a
view. So they pulled off by the side of the road, parked the
car, and walked across to it. Izzy who had been whimpering
a little sadly soon brightened up and was barking excitedly
and wagging her tail happily, and the rest of them admired

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The Tasty Baby Animals

the brilliant blue of the lake that was partially visible in

front of them, glittering as the waves on the surface
reflected the sunlight back at them, and fading into a duller,
grayer misty color as it stretched off into the distance.
“There it is. Lake Whylomahockeagwamattacontabeco-
squa!”
“Lake what?”
“Lake Whylomahockeagwamatta—”
“—Never mind. I’ll never remember it anyway. Who
would name a lake such a thing! It’s a mouthful of
nonsense,” grumbled Ella.
“It’s not nonsense. It’s Indian. Deeply poetic and
pregnant with meaning, I’m sure,” answered back Miss
Lafferty.
“What’s it mean then?”
“I don’t know. I’m not sure anyone does, any more.”
Ella rolled her eyes.
“Well, instead of just admiring it from here, why don’t
we go down and have a look at Lake What-do-you-call-it
ourselves. I think that would be more fun, and Izzy’s feeling
better now,” said Yvonne. So they got back in the car, and
slowly descended the little road down to the lake. There
they came to a public boat ramp where they were able to
park close to the water.
They emerged from the car, Izzy still a little unsteady on
her feet. Then they considered how to get the canoe down.
“Here Yvonne and Ella, why don’t you hold up the top
end, and I’ll go get the other, and we’ll see if we can shift it
off of the roof of the car,” proposed Mrs Lafferty. Ella
and Yvonne were just barely able to reach up to the bow of
the canoe with their hands, but they were able to manage it,
and together they held that end and moved it off while
Mrs. Lafferty got the other. The canoe was a bit heavy, but

37
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between the three of them they were able to move it fairly

easily. Then they lowered it down to chest height, and with
Mrs. Lafferty shouting detailed instructions and with the
girls scrambling and moving their hands from one hand-
hold to another in a complicated sequence, they rotated the
canoe right-side up without managing to drop it. Then they
slowly walked it down the ramp into the water, a
rejuvenated Izzy chasing and barking at them as they went.
“Here Yvonne, you hold the end of the canoe so it
doesn’t drift away while we go get the paddles and the life
preservers,” instructed Miss Lafferty. Then she marched
away with Ella. Yvonne held the canoe with one hand while
patting Izzy with the other. The other two quickly returned,
holding four life preservers three paddles and a large nylon
bag.
“Lunch,” explained Ella pointing to the bag.
“Who’s the fourth life-jacket for?” asked Yvonne,
pointing to a very small and oddly shaped one.
“Izzy of course! Look, it has a handle on the back. So
you can lift her out of the water after she jumps in. Which
she will, no doubt.” Then she grabbed Izzy, and without
much of a struggle, strapped it on her. Then they put on
their own preservers and waded out into the icy cold water
and tried to figure out how to climb into the canoe. This
was a bit tricky, and not without some risk of tipping the
boat, but Miss Lafferty was able to hold it upright while the
girls got in, Ella at the front, and Yvonne with Izzy in the
middle. Then she hopped in herself at the rear and pushed
off.
“Ella what are you doing up there,” she asked as she and
Yvonne started paddling away from shore. Ella was on her
knees, tying a long thin stick to the inside of the very front
of the boat. Then she took out of her pocket a small white
handkerchief that was crudely splattered with paint, and tied
it on with little white ribbons at the top of the stick. When

38
The Tasty Baby Animals

she was done she sat back on her heels admiring it, watching
it flutter in the breeze.
Yvonne couldn’t quite make out what was painted on the
cloth for a few seconds, but then a gust caught it just right
and opened it up fully so she could see it. It was a skull and
crossbones.
Ella began cackling evilly. “On to rapine and plunder!”
she thundered, jumping to her feet and gesturing wildly with
her arms upthrust in the deep pure blue sky. The canoe
rocked sickeningly beneath her.

“Hey! Cut that out! You’re going to capsize the boat!”

yelled Yvonne at her while Izzy barked in alarm. But Miss
Lafferty managed to grab the gunwales of the canoe and
steady it in time, and Ella sat down without inflicting any
disasters on them.
“It’s my romance countermeasure,” she explained,
smiling broadly back at Yvonne. Clever don’t you think?”
But Miss Lafferty just smiled and looked a little dreamy.
“That reminds me of one of Elaine’s books. Maybe my

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favorite. The heroine is abducted by dashing nautical

desperadoes, and travels the sultry tropical seas of
passionate desire. Pirates of My Heart. Ahh. It’s a classic!”
Yvonne put her hand over her face and hung her head in
shame. “I would have warned you about that one if you
had told me,” she said between clenched teeth to Ella.
“Nonsense. We’ll be doing the pirating here. And our
captured prey will walk the plank! Try to find romance in
that. Hah!” then she scanned the horizon looking for
victims. But there weren’t any. Just very far off in the
distance a few powerboats. Traveling so fast in the water
that they were a misty blur, carving out twisting white lines
in the sapphire blue lake surface as they arced away.
“I don’t think we’ll be catching up to them, piratical
purposes or otherwise,” observed Yvonne.
Ella looked crestfallen for a second, but then a smile
hardened on her face, and she began paddling fiercely.
“Fate favors the prepared, the desperate and the unprin-
cipled!” she roared, pointing her paddle with a flourish off
into the distance towards the boats zipping away from them.
“Unprincipled?” asked Miss Lafferty a little quizzically.
“Why yes. Saints generally don’t fly the skull and cross-
bones, you see,” explained Yvonne.
“Oh. I suppose not.”

* * *

It was a big lake. Hard as they paddled, they hardly

seemed to move at all across it. But the shore behind them
vanished after a few minutes, so they knew they were
making progress. They paddled steadily away, the only
sounds being the rustling of the occasional gust of wind
through their hair, the splashing of their paddles in the

40
The Tasty Baby Animals

water and the snuffling sounds of Izzy savoring the breeze

and the clicking of her paws as she walked excitedly fore
and aft in the boat. And there was also Ella, who couldn’t
resist practicing blood-curdling piratical curses and threats.
“Avast ye mateys! Women and children first—off the
plank!”
“Ella dear, your thoughts lack a certain refinement and
dignity of spirit—”
“’sblood! What manner of weak-willed molly-coddled
crew have we here?” she roared, mumbling incomprehens-
ible Elizabethan imprecations under her breath that thank-
fully the others couldn’t understand. Yvonne could only
wonder at what desperately inappropriate old tome she
must have been reading.
“Say, look at those little islands over there,” said Yvonne,
trying hard to change the subject. “They look kind of inter-
esting. Why don’t we explore them?”
She pointed over to them. Ahead to the right a little
closer to the shore were a cluster of islands of various sizes.
Some were large humped wooded hills emerging out of the
water, big enough to build a house on. Others were only
little clumps of rock that just managed to break the water
surface, so small that waves almost seemed to break over
them. And a few were in between, rocky little crests with
just one or two trees and a collection of bushes that twisted
out from between dusky blocks of granite.
Miss Lafferty and Ella readily agreed, and soon they were
drifting silently in the shallower murky water between the
islands. It was calmer and quieter there than it had been on
the open lake, and somehow they wanted to paddle slowly
and carefully in order not to disturb it. Even Ella.
In the still water they could see the dull shapes of
submerged rocks looming up at them. Some were so close
to the surface that Yvonne thought they might scrape the

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bottom of the canoe, and Miss Lafferty steered around

those. But others she let them drift right over. As they
quietly passed among them, it was like watching clouds
drifting silently overhead, and it seemed strange to look
down at them and not be seeing them up above.
In spots there were thick reeds and fallen tree trunks in
the water, thickly covered in greenish-brown algae and
moss, gently waving sickly-looking bushy green fingers in
the passing currents. Here and there they could see little
fish collecting below in the shallower parts of the water,
darting two and fro as the canoe drifted past and the
splashing of a paddle in the water startled them. Izzy
sniffed interestedly and moved her muzzle about following
their movements.
A round dark rock about the size of a child’s fist rose
just above the surface of the water a few feet ahead to the
right. Yvonne was surprised to see that it was raised to
exactly match the level of the water, and so she stared at it
for a moment, thinking about it, and then suddenly it
disappeared, leaving a growing circular ripple in its wake.
“Hey!” she cried out. Then she saw it swimming silently
submerged below the surface of the water. A huge snap-
ping turtle. Half a meter across. The rock had been its
head, with the rest of its body lurking hidden out of sight
under the surface.
Then there was a splash, and Yvonne noticed Izzy was
gone. She had jumped into the water. To look at the turtle
of course. “Izzy!” she called out after her.
Miss Lafferty giggled. “You think the snapping turtle is
interesting do you?” She said to Izzy. “We better get you
out before she takes a great big bite out of you. Turtles that
big can eat an entire duck. I wouldn’t want to see what she
could do to you.” Then she pulled the canoe forward so
that she was level with Izzy, and reached over and grabbed
the handle attached to the life-jacket on her back and pulled

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The Tasty Baby Animals

her out with a grunt, lifting her back into the canoe and
placing her down in the boat between herself and Yvonne.

“Bet that water was cold, eh,” she said scratching Izzy’s
head.
“Izzy!” said Yvonne, crawling back to hug her. She
looked cold, and was shivering from her brief swim in the
frigid lake water.
Just as she reached her, Izzy shook herself violently,
spraying Yvonne and Miss Lafferty from the water she freed
from her damp fur.
“Ahhh!” they both screamed as they got wet too.
Ella laughed loudly as she looked back at both of them
from the front of the boat. “How could you both forget
that dogs do that!” she chortled.
“Very amusing. Hey Ella, how about we make you walk
the plank. You’ll find the water is cool and very refreshing.

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That would be fun too,” answered back Yvonne a bit testily.

Ella just giggled back at her.
“Um, why don’t we stop off and explore one of these
little islands?” Miss Lafferty proposed after a moment, to
change the subject. “I bet they’re interesting.”
Yvonne and Ella agreed that that sounded like fun, so
they paddled to a little rocky one with a narrow muddy bank
at one side. They drifted up in the canoe, and Ella jumped
out into the shallow water and pulled the canoe up until it
rested on the rocks and they got out, Yvonne carrying Izzy
under her arm. Yvonne put her down on the bank and she
pranced off immediately to explore on her own, barking
and jumping excitedly from rock to rock and scrambling
between low leafy bushes. But she didn’t get far. The island
was just a few tens of meters wide, and only about one
high.
Miss Lafferty pointed to the low leafy bushes on the
ground which were only one or two hands high. They grew
in little clumps with small oval leaves and wiry low branched
stems out of the dirt between the rocks.
“Do you know what these are?” she asked.
“No.”
“They’re blueberry bushes. In a month or so they’ll
make little wild blueberries. Look, you can see they’re
flowering now,” she said, pointing out the greenish-white
little flowers that covered them everywhere.
This was of course, fascinating, but not at all as interest-
ing as blueberry bushes with real blueberries on them, so
they went off exploring the rest of the island.
“What a great island,” Ella remarked. “Look. It even
has a tree!”
It was true. There was a single solitary tree growing in
the thin soil held between a few rocks, off towards one side

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The Tasty Baby Animals

of the island. The trunk wasn’t very big, just about a hand
across, and it only barely reached over their heads.
“Think about it. You could build a little house here, and
living in peaceful solitude under the shade of this cute little
tree, launch pirate attacks terrorizing the entire lake!”
“I don’t think your house could be very big,” observed
Miss Lafferty. “Probably no more than a little shack.”
“And your pirate ship couldn’t be any bigger than our
canoe if you were to dock here,” Yvonne added.
“Well, it still seems like fun. But maybe we could find a
better island.”
So they went exploring more islands. The next one they
tried was much bigger. It was about a hundred meters long
and was big enough to fit a whole grove of dark green pine
trees on its back. Towards the center, a large rounded
granite boulder rose to make a broad smooth platform with
a nice view of the water, but it was still shaded from the
side by trees. They decided to stop there to have lunch.
It had been hard work paddling in the canoe to get there,
and they were hungry. So they unpacked the collection of
sandwiches that Yvonne and Ella had prepared that
morning. Yvonne and Miss Lafferty enjoyed peanut butter
and jelly while Ella made do with a ham, salami, pastrami
and smoked chicken sandwich that was so thickly packed
with meat that it was almost cubical. Izzy for the most part
just sat at Ella’s feet, ignoring the bowl of dog food they
had brought for her and staring longingly at Ella’s sandwich.
After lunch they walked around the island exploring. It
was a big enough place to have interesting topography.
There were little rocky hills and muddy hollows, groves of
trees and irregular rocky paths you could follow. Ella
dashed among the trees and over the rocks excitedly taking
it all in as she raced about while Yvonne and the rest tried to
keep up with her. In various places there were narrow rocky

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beaches only a meter or so wide that girded the island, large

and flat enough to land a boat on, and in fact they had
landed their own canoe on a small one of these on the far
side.
Ella descended over a large smooth knee of rock and
found herself on the front side of the island on one of the
bigger stretches of beach. The sand there was being
slapped by waves driven onto it by the full force of a stiff
wind blowing off the water. Off to the side was a sight that
made her eyes sparkle. It was a powerboat, pulled up on to
the sand. It had a large black marine engine lying tipped up
at its transom with the spiral dull brass sheen of its
propeller casting spots of light on the water just below it. A
large ‘150’ in bright red round letters loomed on the dark
block of the engine.
“Avast! A well-appointed piratical brigantine ripe for the
taking!” chortled Ella with glee, as she glided towards the
scythe-like shape of the black, sharply-cut racing hull.
Yvonne heard her say this just as she came rushing over
the rock down to the beach with Izzy in her arms. “Ella!
You can’t—”
But it was to late. As Yvonne reached her something big
and bull-like moved out of the bushes further up on the
beach, and a deep, angry voice boomed: “Who thinks
they’re taking my boat?”
It was a big heavyset woman, powerfully built with a
neck as thick as a tree-trunk and dark black eyes that burned
fiercely in a block-like ruddy face. Short muscular arms
jutted out at her side diagonally as a result of the bulge of
her massive midriff, which was too big to allow them to
hang easily at her side. As she charged towards Ella, she
tottered alarmingly from side to side on short heavy legs.
“Nobody touches my boat!” she shrieked with rage.

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The Tasty Baby Animals

“Oh I’m so sorry Ma’am,” cried out Miss Lafferty.

“Please don’t mind Ella. She’s been playing at pirates all day.
There’s no harm in it. Really, we’d never let her touch your
boat.” She tucked Ella up under her arm and started
whisking her away.
“Really, you have to ignore what she says,” added Yvonne
for good measure, trying to be helpful. “She’s just weak-
minded.”
The lady glared down her nose at Ella, not looking very
mollified, her enormous neck still pink with rage. “There’s
a place we put pirates around here,” she added with
controlled anger.
“Jail?” asked Yvonne.
“We send them to the bottom,” the lady replied, pointing
to the lake with a finger angrily thrust downward.

“I’m so very sorry,” interjected Miss Lafferty with an

apologetic smile. “Sometimes she says the most absurd
things. Please excuse us.” Then she grabbed both of the
girls and they quickly retreated from the beach, Izzy follow-
ing quietly behind them.
They retreated together sullenly, heading directly for their
canoe.

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“I’m not weak-minded,” observed Ella morosely after a

bit.
“Could of fooled me,” retorted Yvonne.
“Now Yvonne and Ella, perhaps you both learned
something from that incident.”
“Pin-head.”
“I’m not!”
“Idiot!”
“Yvonne, now you be quiet,” added Miss Lafferty, put-
ting an end to the recriminations.
So they walked rather downheartedly back to the canoe,
launched off the island, and paddled quietly away in silence.
They were lost to their own thoughts for a while. Izzy
lay in Yvonne’s lap, where she thrust her nuzzle at various
places, tickling her slightly in a gradually successful attempt
to cheer her her up, and soon Yvonne put her paddle down
and began petting her, while Ella just looked forward
paddling hard while wearing a fixed, stoney expression on
her face. Miss Lafferty paddled at the back patiently with an
air of calm equanimity.
A soft eerie warbling trilling sound echoed across the
water.
“What was that?” asked Yvonne, looking up.
“It’s a loon. They always sound like that. It’s beautiful,
don’t you think? Here, why don’t you have a look through
these,” replied Miss Lafferty, passing forward a pair of small
binoculars that she retrieved from their stores in the boat.
Yvonne picked up the the binoculars, aimed them at a
gray dot on the water surface in the direction pointed out to
her, and saw the loon from up close. It was hard to keep
the image centered in the binoculars with all the shaking
aboard the boat, but eventually she was able to make sense

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The Tasty Baby Animals

of what she was seeing. It was a black-headed bird with

glaring red eyes and a beak so long and sharp that it looked
like a dagger. There were white patches in a spotted lattice
on its back, and white stripes on its neck. It was a strangely
alien and primitive looking form of duck in war paint, with
a sharpened spear for a bill. But its war cry, its song, well, it
wasn’t very threatening. More like mysterious. As she
looked, the bird’s bill opened, and after a second, the eery
trill of its song rolled again across the water.
Yvonne tried to pass the binoculars forward to Ella, but
she said “no thanks” in a morose tone of voice, and went
back to paddling.
“She was a fearsome pirate, that lady,” Ella observed
between paddles. And then, after a pause she added, “I feel
like that bird sounds.”
“Nobody is at their best when they are angry. And
people really do love their boats,” observed Miss Lafferty.
Ella nodded quietly.
“Boats are fun, aren’t they?” she said, and she went back
to paddling.
Their spirits lifted, and so they began paddling harder.
They moved out from behind the shelter of the island and
then suddenly they faced the oncoming blast of the wind
straight on. It blew much harder out in the open water than
before. A strong breeze had risen up while they were eating
lunch, and it drove waves that shook the boat from the side,
blowing them off course and making them paddle harder,
and so they busied themselves with fighting the wind and
the waves.
Wind whistled in their ears and loudly blew the sad
thoughts from their minds, and so they paddled on,
stopping to rest here and there at small islands along the
way. After another hour they reached the end of the lake.
It was shallower there and sheltered from the wind, with
reeds rising up through the water and lily pads floating on

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top, and they glided across it, listening to the rustling sound
as the reeds scratched the bottom of the boat, and Izzy
admired the fish swimming below the surface, but without
jumping in this time to meet them.
They had conquered the lake, had explored the whole
thing, and with that happy sense of accomplishment they
turned around and headed back to the other side from
whence they had come. The wind blew them onward this
time making it much easier. From time to time Ella and
Yvonne tried raising their paddles up like sails to let the
wind push them. They held them up with water dripping
down the wet blades of the paddles onto the handles and
then down onto their knees. It seemed to work, a little. But
not as well as paddling. So they always went back to that,
after a giggle.
They reached the boat landing in the late afternoon, and
with some effort, because their arms were tired, they
managed to pull the canoe out of the water and lift it up
again to the rack on the roof of the car. Their hands hurt,
stinging from broken blisters from all the paddling, but they
didn’t mind. It had been an excellent adventure, if not
particularly piratical.
For the trip home they listened to Ella Fitzgerald again,
and Ella told them pirate stories. Really good ones, and she
must have made them up. Because the chief scoundrel in
them was always a girl, with flowing blond curly hair, called
Ella.

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Chapter 4
The days grew longer, and the summer arrived with
fierce cloudless days, screaming cicadas, swarming mosqui-
toes and tangled mats of riotously growing weeds. Yvonne
found herself waking with the sun and rushing outside with
Izzy to greet the morning. They’d gambol on the grass for a
few minutes, and then after feeding Izzy a quick bowl of
food, they’d run up the road to see Miss Lafferty, who was
always up early getting the clinic ready for the day.
“Good morning Miss Lafferty!” she would yell out as she
entered the door to the clinic.
“Hello Yvonne. You’re up early. It’s nice to see you
again,” would be the reply.
“Can we help you get ready?” Yvonne would ask, and
Miss Lafferty would mutter some mild complaint about
violating child labor laws and Yvonne would laugh and help
her anyway. She would run around feeding the sick animals
that were staying there while Izzy followed her helping to
cheer them up too. Then she would vacuum the waiting
room quickly, give Miss Lafferty a hug goodbye, and head
home for breakfast.
“So how is Charlotte doing this morning?” asked her
mom one day over a bowl of breakfast cereal. Charlotte
was Miss Lafferty’s first name.
“Very well. You were right that it would be good to
make her a friend. She’s very nice. She says she’ll let me
work as her receptionist when I’m old enough. That would
be fun.”
“That does sound nice. We are really very lucky to have
her as a neighbor.”

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There was a knock at the side door next to the kitchen,

and Ella entered, saying “hi!” as she passed by on her way to
the refrigerator. She had taken to keeping a supply of
breakfast sausage there after her mom had decided that she
couldn’t stand the smell of them cooking, and so Ella had
become a permanent breakfast guest.
Ella took her sausages down, found a frying pan and put
it on the stove and started cooking them, and the warm
sweet smell started filling the room as they crackled in the
frying pan. It always made Yvonne’s mother smile. She
liked eating breakfast with Ella.
But this time the cooking went a little differently than
usual. Ella kept sniffling and there were occasional bursts
of steam from the pan as Ella’s tears fell in it.
“Ella, what’s wrong?” asked Yvonne when she noticed.
Ella said nothing for a few minutes while she finished
cooking. When she was done, she came over to the table
with a plate of sausages, tears streaming down her face, sat
down and said, “It’s my mom. She—she’s sending me to a
‘purifying ayurvedic spiritual retreat’ summer camp. I’m
going to be brainwashed, scourged with Yoga and fed lentils
and curried cauliflower for eight weeks by swamies! The
pure temple of my body will be defiled by eight weeks of
unremitting vegetarianism. It’s…beyond reason!”
“You poor thing,” said Yvonne, and she came around
the table to give Ella a hug from behind to comfort her.
“Thanks,” said Ella, sniffling. Then she began stuffing
sausage in her mouth while Yvonne held her.
“An ‘ayurvedic spiritual retreat.’ My that sounds interest-
ing,” observed Yvonne’s mom after a thoughtful pause.
Yvonne glared back at her, but Ella just sniffled and said
“Maybe in your next book the heroine can be rescued from
one of them.”

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The Tasty Baby Animals

* * *

Ella left three days later dressed in new flowing saffron

robes and with a trunk full of silks and fine Indian linen.
As her mother drove her away Yvonne and her mom waved
goodbye.
“I feel like we’re sending her away to become an Indian
child-bride. Maybe this does have the makings of a story,”
remarked her mom as she waved with one hand and (rather
suspiciously) held the other palm against her chest in a
expression of deep emotional sympathy.
“Don’t you dare,” scowled Yvonne. But her mom just
smiled faintly in response.
It rained for two weeks solid after Ella left. By the time
it stopped, Yvonne and Izzy were so desperate to get out of
the house that they completely forgot the solemn mood that
had come over them after Ella’s departure in their race to
the door. Yvonne’s mom caught her in mid-stride on their

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way out and handed her a book, saying “Here. Take this
along with you, but don’t eat anything!” as Yvonne passed
through the door.
Yvonne glanced at it briefly—‘Field Guide to Mush-
rooms’ and then dashed off trying to keep up with Izzy.
Izzy had been growing fast and was much bigger than even
a couple months before, and she could now run faster than
Yvonne, making it difficult to keep up with her. She really
wasn’t much of a puppy any more.
Outside was a vivid emerald green from the rain. As
they wandered there between tree trunks in the forest, the
orange-brown of the pine needles gave way in places to
dark black mud. Their feet sank easily in it, leaving crisp
beautiful impressions. Yvonne might have worried about
losing her shoes in the mud, except that of course she
wasn’t wearing any, and so as they walked they left a trail of
Izzy’s paw-prints in a track beside her own 10-toed
footprints.
“Look at all the mushrooms!” cried Yvonne with
surprise. They were all over. They’d been well nourished
from the weeks of rain, and strangely colored fungi rose up
in patches all around. Orange-ish yellow toadstools flecked
with white spots, broad-capped grey-white ones with a
sickly greenish tinge. Thick boleti with spongy red caps
whose yellow flesh turned blue when broken apart and
exposed to the air. They were everywhere, in every shape
and color. Some were covered in slime and buzzing in flies,
others stood coolly and colorfully, standing presenting their
pretty hoods attractively, practically screaming ‘eat me.’
Yvonne took the small book that her mom had given her
out from her pocket. The manual on identifying
mushrooms. She must have given it to her expecting that
there would be a lot to look at after all the rain.

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The Tasty Baby Animals

“I wonder what this one is,” she said to Izzy, grabbing

one of the sickly green ones. Izzy sniffed at it and then
whined uneasily.
“Hmm. Looks like a ‘death cap’. No wonder it looks so
sickly. I can’t imagine that it’s good for you. But this pretty
white one looks like it might be OK. Let’s see…” she said,
and then she paged some more through the book.
“Ah. A destroying angel,” she concluded. “I wonder
what that does to you if you eat it? No Izzy, you stay away
from it,” she said, yanking her away.
But not all the mushrooms they found were necessarily
poisonous. There were some small orange ones with
elegant tapered gills that smelled of apricot that the book
claimed were chanterelles. They seemed like the real thing.
What else could they be. But, well Yvonne wasn’t brave
enough to try them.
That evening Yvonne returned home with a large
collection cradled in the lap of her skirt and showed it to
her mom. Her mom showed her how to put them on paper
to make spore prints. After several hours, the spores falling
off the mushroom caps made colored ribbed blotches on
the paper, mirroring the shape of the caps but often in very
different colors than the mushrooms themselves. By late
evening just before bedtime Yvonne was able to admire the
delicate powdery images.
The next morning Yvonne resumed exploring the woods
with Izzy with another book on how to identify wildflowers.
On loan from Miss Lafferty, according to her mom. Just as
the mushroom book the day before had been, apparently.
“If you get bored with that one, Charlotte has field
manuals on birds and trees and minerals and even insects
that you can borrow. She really has quite a collection of
things like that.”

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And with that, her mom went upstairs to work on her

latest book. Child-Bride of Chennai was what she was calling
it. Yvonne shuddered to think what Ella would think when
she found out about it. But there was little she could do, so
she headed out the door to see what flowers she could find.
She spent the next several weeks weaving garlands,
pressing wildflowers and scurrying about everywhere
looking for them. She wandered for miles throughout the
forest, to the meadow at the top of the highest hill and
down to the river banks at the bottom of the lowest valley.
The same one that leads to lake what-do-you-call-it. All of
it with Izzy trailing behind her, running ahead of her, and
generally sniffing at everything they passed like one big self-
propelled nose. Yvonne also photographed birds and
collected insects and butterflies, identified, preserved and
labeled them, and arranged the collections throughout the
house until it was full to the brim with them.
One day she was wandering with Izzy among the steep
rocky slopes that descended into the valley when they came
upon a black rock-framed opening in a corner where the
slope steepened until it nearly reached the vertical. The
opening was down at knee level, less than a meter wide, and
it stared back at them blankly, echoing dully when Izzy
barked into it. Yvonne knelt down and looked inside,
feeling a chill wind brushing her cheeks as it issued from the
entrance. It felt almost as if the hillside were breathing at
her from this tiny stony mouth.
“Hello?” she said looking into the orifice. To which the
hill echoed a muffled reply. And look as she would, she
couldn’t see anything. No light escaped from that opening.
Izzy sniffed at it with interest, but Yvonne didn’t let her
in. She returned the next day with a flashlight, so she could
see, and then they carefully made their way inside, looking
carefully for snakes, loose rocks, and anything that might
hurt them.

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The cave was small inside, only about 10 meters long and
a few meters wide. It was formed from big sturdy slabs of
rock that had fallen at angles to each other, leaving an
angular gap between them, and it had a cold, hard, packed
dirt floor that was dry and clean, but dotted in places by
animal tracks. The walls were marked with writing in a few
spots, and in one there was a date: 1867. It looked like it
had been a while since there had been any visitors.

Yvonne moved forward shivering in the cold air of the

cave while Izzy sniffed excitedly at the walls.
“What do you think, Izzy?” she said as her flashlight
played over the interior. “Shall we make this our hideout?”
Then she picked Izzy up and held her. It was getting
difficult to lift her now that she was bigger, but Yvonne was
cold, and she wanted to keep from getting colder.
They returned back to the house a few hours later.
Yvonne rushed inside where she found Miss Lafferty and
her mother talking.

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“Hi Miss Lafferty!” she cried out, “You’ll never believe

what I’ve found—”
Miss Lafferty smiled and looked a little apologetic. “Hi
Yvonne. I’ve been admiring your collections. They are
really quite amazing. I’m so glad you are enjoying the field
guides I lent you!”
“Yes that was very kind, Charlotte,” interrupted her
mother, “and it’s really very beautiful. But, well…” she
continued, wiping away a tear, “If I have to see another
iridescent carcase of a butterfly, brutally poisoned,
chemically preserved, and impaled on pins in on sterile
labeled paper card, I shall be driven to distraction!”
“Now Elaine, dear, you must have patience,” replied
Miss Lafferty, putting her arm her and trying to comfort
her, “It’s for science!”
“It’s affecting my writing!” sobbed Yvonne’s mom,
leaning her head on Miss Lafferty’s shoulder. “The child
bride—she’s festooned with them! Tropical butterflies.”
“Oh how exotic. I wonder what varieties they have in
Chennai—”
“Don’t worry Mom,” interrupted Yvonne. I’ve found
the perfect home for my collection. It’s my new secret
hideaway.”
And then she told them about the cave.

* * *

The long hot days of summer followed day after day in

an unbroken train, and the land progressively withered and
dried under the onslaught. Almost no clouds lightened the
dark blue skies, and not a drop of rain fell on the ground
which parched until the arid forest air was perfumed with
pine resin. The sun beat down without mercy, but the dry

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The Tasty Baby Animals

heat under the shade of the trees was strangely comfortable.

The pine needles underfoot desiccated until they cracked
and crumbled when you stepped on them. The grass of the
meadows browned and the flowers that grew there withered
to a brittle dusty gray. Yvonne began searching more for
interesting rocks and minerals, and she found layers of
limestone in some of the distant hills that were dotted with
fossil shells and crinoid fragments. In some places you
could find pieces of fossil coral too, and you could see the
beautiful boxy-shaped crystalline honeycomb inside in the
spots where it was chipped.
Izzy now carried a small backpack on her back, and
helped carry everything they discovered. They’d filled and
emptied that little pack dozens of times in trips to and from
their cave as they slowly transferred most of the collection
from home to the rock walls inside until nearly every inch
of them was covered.
Early one morning she was eating breakfast with just
Izzy sitting in a chair beside her to keep her company. Her
mom was still asleep. She’d been awake late, writing, putting
the final touches on Child-Bride. Yvonne sat eating a bowl
of cereal while absentmindedly petting Izzy.
Suddenly Izzy barked excitedly and lept off the chair
startling her. “What is it, Izzy dear?” she said. It was Ella,
back from camp. Yvonne stood up to hug her, but Izzy was
ahead of her, jumping up to put her front paws on Ella’s
stomach, waving her tail in a blur and barking with
excitement. Ella put her arms around Izzy and started
petting her happily, while Izzy smelled the rose-water and
sandalwood smells that came from the flowing blue and
orange silk sari that she was wearing.
“Ella, you’re back! When did you get home? And what’s
that red dot on your forehead?” asked Yvonne as she
rushed forward to hug her.

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“Izzy’s gotten so big,” Ella said, smiling broadly. “I got

back late last night. And this thing is a tilaka. It symbolizes
the mind’s eye, and encourages me on the sacred path
towards victory over the ego and spiritual enlightenment,”
she replied. Then she raised the back of her hand to her
forehead and vigorously began rubbing it off.
“Oh, that sounds uplifting. Are you sure you want to get
rid of—”
“Do you have any meat here?” interrupted Ella
brusquely. She gently pushed Izzy and Yvonne aside, and
headed over to the refrigerator.
“Gee, we’re a little low on food. Mom has been really
busy finishing her story, and we need to go shopping today,
so I don’t know if you’ll find anything…”
Ella began rifling energetically through the cabinets,
looking frantically for anything she could find, while
Yvonne looked on with alarm, wondering if she were going
to be able to stop her from eating Izzy’s dogfood. But after
a few seconds Ella uncovered a tin of sardines. She let out
a loud “Ah!” of delight as she found it, ripped off the metal
cover and then reached in with her bare hands and started
grabbing sardines by tail. One by one she lifted them up
over her head, dropped them into her wide open mouth,
and barely chewing, practically swallowed them whole. It
rather reminded Yvonne of a pelican eating fish.
Yvonne stared at her, speechless with surprise for a few
minutes, and then walked over and gave her a hug.
“How was camp? I missed you,” she said as she put her
arms around her friend. She smelled the rose water and the
sandalwood, and of course the sardines.
“Um,” replied Ella, smacking her lips. “That was good.”
She let out a pungent burp and then rubbed the oil off her
lips with the back of her hand, and as her hand fell back

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down to her waist again Izzy jumped up in raptures at the

smell, sniffing and licking.
“The food actually wasn’t too bad. When it comes to
vegetarian stuff the swamis can do some amazing things
you know. But…”
Ella left the ‘but’ dangling just as it was, and her eyes
began roving around the kitchen again. Yvonne decided she
had to do something to distract her before she caught sight
of the cans of meat meant for Izzy.
“Why hello Ella! You’re back from camp! That’s a lovely
sari you’re wearing dear.” It was Yvonne’s mom. She was
grinning strangely and holding a rather suspicious-looking
stack of papers in her hand.
“Oh, Hi Elaine. It’s nice to be back—”
“You know I’ve just finished a story. Inspired by you, as
a matter of fact. It’s called Child-Bride of Chennai. I hope
you can be the first to read it!”
Ella looked stunned, and a rising feeling of panic stirred
within Yvonne as she watched emotions wash over her
friend’s face like a squall roughening the surface of a lake.
“Come with me. I’ve got something really fun I have to
show you,” she shouted, and then she dragged Ella by the
hand out the front door, and at a run they rushed out into
the woods together.
A half hour later they arrived at the cave. Ella was a bit
unhappy. It hadn’t been too easy to dash through the
woods wearing a silk sari without tearing it or even leaving
the entire thing hanging embraced in the thorny clutches of
some patch of blackberries or raspberries that they passed
along the way. Thin leather sandals are also absolutely the
last thing that you want to be wearing walking down a steep
stony slope. But Yvonne couldn’t wait to show her the cave,
and so she led her down with Ella’s arm over her shoulder

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and her arm around Ella’s waist until they reached the dark
coolness of the cave.
She waited a few seconds while Ella shivered in the cold
to build the right feeling of suspense and excitement and
then turned on the lights. She had wired them together
some weeks before when she got tired of holding a
flashlight up to see. The switch was connected by long thin
wires to several lantern batteries and a series of small
flashlight lamps. They glowed dimly but firmly as power
passed through them, warmly lighting the bottom part of
the cave, which glittered with blue and orange butterfly
wings and sparkled with crystals of quartz and mica. Dried
pressed wildflowers still bearing flattened pale blue, yellow
and purple blooms hung mounted on paper cards on the
darker parts of the walls, weaving a more subdued pattern
into the shadows.
“1867?” asked Ella, surprising Yvonne quite a bit.
“I don’t think people visit this cave much,” she replied.
“Probably not. But they would if they knew what was
here. It’s beautiful.”
“Oh thanks. I thought we’d make it our hideout. So I
decorated it.”
Ella admired it for a while, and then began shivering. It
was too cold in the cave to be dressed only in a light silk
sari.
“Here Ella. Why don’t you hold Izzy. She’s warm.”
“Thanks. But let me show you some yoga. It’s fun, and
it will keep us warm too,” replied Ella, and so she did.

* * *

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The cave became their hideout, and every day they came
to visit, and it was their base for specimen collecting and
practicing yoga and a refuge from their sundry meddlesome
parents. Some days later when Ella had taught her how,
they were standing on their hands with their feet in the air.
An excellent attitude for contemplation, according to Ella.
With the blood rushing to the head nourishing the brain
and the discipline involved in maintaining fine graceful
balance, it was apparently an ideal way to sustain meditative
thought.
“You’re not angry about the Child-Bride book are you?”
asked Yvonne, after a long pause.
“Oh no. I have to admit though it came as a real shock.
But I guess if it’s something she thinks a girl my age could
read it can’t be too awful.”
“I don’t know about that. You’d be surprised by some
of the stories she’s come up with. I can’t imagine how
horrible it would be if one of her romantically demented
heroines were actually based on me…”
“What makes you think she hasn’t?”
Yvonne’s eyes widened with horror and she lost her
balance, falling over onto her knees.
“She couldn’t possibly—” she burst out, but then there
was a noise from the entrance.
“Helloooo!” echoed into the cave.
They looked at each other, then answered back “Hello!”
A gray-haired lady dressed in shorts with hiking boots
and carrying a green canvas backpack on her shoulders
made her way into the entrance, clambering down the little
pile of rocks and boulders that marked it while carefully
using a walking stick to steady her balance as she did so. As
she stepped onto the hard-packed dirt floor she looked up
at them, and her pale blue eyes winked and they realized it
was Miss Lafferty.

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“Miss Lafferty!”
She giggled back at them and said, “Looks like I found
your cave. It wasn’t so easy. Even though you told me right
where it was.” She glanced at the walls, and then remarked,
“1867? Looks like people don’t come here very often.”
“I guess not,” answered Yvonne.
“It’s really beautiful here with all the things you collected,
Yvonne. It’s a lovely secret hideaway. I hope you don’t
mind me visiting.”
But the girls had no objections at all. There’s no point in
having a secret hideaway if it’s secret from your best friends
after all. So Miss Lafferty joined them, and Ella began
teaching her some yoga.

They did yoga in the fading light of the afternoon until

they were tired. Miss Lafferty gave up first, collapsing on
the ground with a giggle.
“That was fun,” she said, “but it’s too much for me.
Maybe I’m too old for this sort of thing.”
“Oh no. You’re never too old for yoga,” replied Ella.
“You should see some of the swamis.”

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A cloud passed by outside, dimming the light that was

coming in the entrance and making the whole cave darker.
“It gets a little spooky in here when it does that, doesn’t
it?” observed Yvonne.
“Yes, it’s kind of fun,” chuckled Miss Lafferty. “Say, this
would be a good place to tell a ghost story. What do you
say?”
“Do you know any good ones?” asked Ella excitedly.
“Oh yes, I think so. Would you like to hear one?”
“Yes!” the girls replied in chorus.
“Well, the story goes like this. Naturally there’s a heroine
in the story, because of course, all good stories have a
heroine. (Especially your mother’s Yvonne. But that’s a
different kind of heroine.) Anyway let’s say her name was
Avra. That’s not her real name but it was something like
that. She lived in a town which we’ll call Providence, at the
crossing of two streets, which were named something like
Hope Street and Angel Street. But the happy names of
these places belied the grim nature of the town. Mired in
mud and melting ice in the winter and plagued with stinging
flies in the summer, it was a dank and fetid industrial town,
whose acrid sooty air was cleaned only slightly by the
frequent acid rains which stained the walls of the graceful
marble buildings of that city a dark and ugly black. From
there the cinder-laden water flowed to rotted sewers, where
the caustic streams would scourge the vermin hiding there
until the streets swarmed with the dark pelts and naked tails
of rats.”
“Avra wandered the dark alleys of that town alone, the
hard steel nails in the leather heels of her high-laced boots
tapping loudly on the unyielding paving stones of the
happily named streets, forewarning everyone of her
presence. And the people of that town, especially the
children, turned away when Avra walked by, or looked

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down, or perhaps even looked through her as if she weren’t

really there at all. She passed among them like a ghost, and
sometimes the people she met shivered when their paths
crossed as if she really were one.”
“On she drifted along Hope Street, up the hills and
down, on toward the sticky banks of an evil ruddy-colored
river, where she was wont to plant herself in the mud and
ponder drearily at the filthy lumps that drifted by in the
turgid flow beside her. There she would dream of having
the courage to cast herself into the water—”
“Oh! That’s a bit depressing! You didn’t tell us it was a
story about a ghost, not a ghost story!” Interrupted
Yvonne.
“It’s a ghost story too. But let me continue. I was just
getting warmed up.”
“I’m not sure ‘warmed up’ is the right way to describe
it,” Ella observed.
“Well, maybe not. But anyway, ‘But as she strode down
the steep side of the hill, she saw someone else there by the
bank of the river. A pale face with jet black hair. Black eyes
and wearing a black full-length dress that descended all the
way to the mud. The whole of her was so dark that she
might have gone unnoticed except for the pale white of her
skin, which seemed to glow in the moonlight —’ ”
“Moonlight? You didn’t say it was night-time. And isn’t
it dreary and cloudy?” asked Ella.
“Well, of course it’s night-time. And it certainly is
cloudy. But there are gaps in the clouds, and the full moon
beams through them lighting up little tendrils of mist in the
air, glinting off cobwebs and spider’s nests dangling down
from the trees, and illuminating the blank white face of the
girl in the mud—”
“I get it, I get it. But no need to go over the top with all
the creepy descriptions. We get it already.”

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“Well you know, creating the proper atmosphere is

essential in a ghost story. So where was I. Oh yes. ‘Avra
considered whether she should move onward to her next
haunt further up the river bank. The old cemetery, which
fairly creaked with decaying bones lying in garish carved
stone monoliths. Giant baroque structures, a city for the
dead, slowly crumbling and sinking into the sodden ground
along the river bank. But then she noticed something. The
girl was holding a doll with black hair and a black dress,
black eyes and a pale, very white face, glowing in the
moonlight. She was singing very softly to it, just loudly
enough for Avra to hear it. It was just a little doll, but it
looked exactly like her. She was cradling it, holding it
upright in her arms.’ ”

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Ella screamed aloud “Ahhhh!” and then grinned and

laughed. Yvonne punched her.
“It’s not supposed to be scary yet!” she yelled.
“Shhh. I know. Let’s listen to the rest,” Ella whispered
back.
“Ahem. So anyway, ‘The white-faced girl strode forward
along the bank of the river, slowly as if she were
sleepwalking, softly singing a lullaby to the doll held at her
waist. And the doll’s little face stared ahead as she was
carried, matching her mistress’s empty expression exactly.
Except that when the girl stumbled or her feet made
sucking sounds in the mud, the fine china face seemed to
wince ever so slightly through some trick of the light.’ ”
“A little voice faintly sounded out in the still quiet air,
‘Put me down over there, Lolly!’ it said with a high
commanding tone. Perhaps it came from the girl, but it
seemed unlikely that her voice could be so high-pitched and
shrill.”
“The girl walked over to a large hewn stone embedded in
the muddy bank. It was a broken curb-stone, cast aside
from the construction of the street above many years
before, and the rough surface had been cleaned by rain, as
clean as anything in Providence ever was, and so the girl was
able to find a spot free of mud and place her china-faced
doll sitting upon it.”
“ ‘Now,’ rang out the shrill voice again, ‘show me your
swimming, Lolly!’ And the white-faced girl blanched, and
somehow seemed to get even whiter. But she turned,
stumbled towards that open sewer of a river, and pausing
for a second, launched herself into the putrid bubbling
water...”
“Yuck!” yelled Yvonne and Ella together.
Miss Lafferty grinned and continued. “Avra had to look
away for a second as the black clothes of the white-faced

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girl sank into the swirling current of the water. When she
looked again she saw her spluttering and and gasping for
breath, trying to stay afloat while her shaking hands futilely
attempted to sweep the turds in the river away from her
hair.”
“ ‘Lolly! Come roll in the muck!’ rang out the shrill evil
voice again, and the girl dragged herself, coughing and
retching out of the river. Then she cast herself in the mud,
and with great ugly sucking sounds rolled her body in it.
Avra glanced at the doll again on the broken curbstone, and
this time on the lips of that evil china face, marked thinly in
black on the porcelain, there appeared the beginnings of a
twisted smile.”
“ ‘Lolly! What’s that, over there?’ asked the doll. ‘Pick it
up, let me see!’ ”
“It was a toad, hopping feebly, probably half poisoned,
but somehow still alive on the banks of that horrid little
river. The girl reached for it, and the toad, too weak to
escape, was easily caught by her shaking muddy hand.”
“Shrill laughter peeled out into the night air, and this
time Avra knew where it came from. It was the doll, on the
curbstone, and the black smile on her porcelain face glinted
evilly in the moonlight. ‘Lolly!’ she cried, ‘eat it!’ ”
“Yaaahhh!” scrieked Ella. Yvonne could only stare, with
her hand over her mouth and her eyes bulging widely. This
obviously wasn’t the usual kind of ghost story.
“Quite. Anyway, Avra turned in panic, hoping to escape
from the wretched spectacle on the riverbank. As she did,
her eyes met tiny blue glass eyes in a doll’s porcelain white
face. Another doll was standing on the steep bank above
her with her face level with Avra’s own, wearing a dark
flannel skirt and tall laced boots with leather heels. She had
fine blond hair, so light it was almost white and was dressed
and looked exactly like Avra did to herself in a mirror, but
was a mirror image of that, and much smaller.”

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“The doll’s porcelain lips opened and spoke shrilly to

her, commanding her, ‘Lolly—’ ”
“Aaaahhhhhh!” screamed the two girls loudly, while Miss
Lafferty chuckled happily.
“It’s a nice story isn’t it,” she giggled.
“It’s horrid! And I’m cold,” said Ella, and she grabbed
Yvonne for a hug. Yvonne hugged her back and smiled,
because she knew that Ella had liked the story.
“So, what happened afterward? What did the doll make
her do?” asked Yvonne after a while, unable to contain her
curiosity.
“Oh Avra’s doll was much nicer than the other one, and
much less bossy. She just got told to go home and do her
homework and study hard. Later on the doll helped her
pick out nice clothing and gave her tips and on how to
behave in school, and Avra became more popular. So when
Avra grew up and married and had her own daughter, she
gave the doll to her, and her daughter was very grateful.”
“So the story has a happy ending?”
“Yes. All my ghost stories do. I like happy endings.”
“But there’s just one problem with all that,” observed
Ella. “Where’s the ghost? It’s not really a ghost story at all
is it?”
“Ah, but there is. The black-haired girl. She was a ghost,
and not a real girl at all. But that’s another, much scarier
story. I’ll tell it to you next time I visit.” And with that and
a little cackle, Miss Lafferty said goodbye and went home.

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Chapter 5
Ella’s return brought no rain. Much as it was needed,
and much as her return seemed somewhat like the en-
chanted appearance of a gossamer-winged (and perfumed)
fairy, clad in jewels and silk and fluttering as a butterfly
would, her magic unfortunately did not seem to include the
power to conjure up rain.
“Ella, don’t you know a spell or something to make
rain?” asked Yvonne as they walked barefoot one day on the
path toward their cave with Izzy scampering by their side.
The crisp crackling of bone-dry leaves under their feet and
the deep gray-brown of the dead grass in the scorched
meadows kept bringing this topic foremost in her mind.
“The wisdom of the Bhagavad Gita is profound and
encompasses many realms, but unfortunately it does not, as
far as I know, give guidance on how to make rain. I fear you
are thinking of the wrong kind of Indian wisdom,” replied
Ella, gently, while putting her arm around Yvonne.
“Can’t you do something? These woods are a tinderbox,
and all the plants are dying. Maybe even some of the trees.”
“I know, and no. I don’t think there’s much useful we
can do,” and after a pause she added, “We can give burnt
offerings to the National Weather Service if you think that
would help.”
“Don’t be ridiculous Ella,” said Yvonne, pushing her
away, laughing.
But the Drought, as the adults called it, was nothing to
laugh about. Yvonne heard them whispering about it in
nearly every conversation she overheard, when at the store,
in a movie theater or at home, or when Miss Lafferty or
Ella’s mom visited and talked to her mom. And every time
they used the word it sounded capitalized to her, or even in

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italics. Drought. Just the sound of it brought worries and

spoke of the reservoirs drying up, lost crops and the fires
that might, surely must, follow.
The sky was a uniform gray that day, but it didn’t look
like rain. It kept the ground cooler than usual and Yvonne
was glad of it, but somehow it made her feel uneasy.
Looking up she noticed the sun, looming largely and redly.
“Isn’t that odd,” she said pointing to it, and then she
noticed the smell, which was different from the usual pine
resin. There was a charred odor in the air.
“There are big fires in the news. About 100 kilometers
north of here. The wind is carrying the smoke all the way
to us. That’s what my Mom says.”
“They won’t spread here will they?” asked Yvonne.
“Not from that far away. But fires could start here as
well.”
The next afternoon they saw it from the top of the hill
on the way to the cave. A rising pillar of smoke. It was fire,
started somehow on a distant hill. They raced home to tell
their parents, but everyone already knew.
“Yes, it was in the local news at noon,” Yvonne’s mom
said, as she carried a stack of papers out to the car.
“Yvonne dear, could you please pack a few things in the car?
Just in case we have to evacuate. After you’re done, come
help me carry out my original manuscripts. We wouldn’t
want to leave those behind,” she added in a carefree tone.
“I can think of some it might be better to leave—”
“Now Ella, you probably ought to go home to help your
own mom. She’ll be worried about you too,” and with that
Ella dashed off, and Yvonne was left to pack, to carry boxes
of papers to the car, and to console herself petting Izzy.
That evening the moonless sky never completely
darkened. Miss Lafferty came to the house after sunset and

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rang the bell, and when they answered the door she
nervously told them to come out and have a look. So they
followed her outside out into the meadow. The gray dome
of the starless sky glowed a dull red in one corner. It was
the fire, bright enough where it burned to light it up.
“It’s like the world’s on fire,” she said, nervously, while
absentmindedly petting Izzy’s head.
“What will you do if we have to evacuate,” asked
Yvonne’s mom in a worried tone.
“I don’t know. The fire chief said they might be able to
arrange a truck for the animals at the clinic. But I don’t
know where we’d send them, and I’m not sure how I’d look
after them when I got there. I sure hope it doesn’t come to
that.” As she spoke, her face seemed drawn and worried and
she clasped her hands together nervously.
They returned inside, and Miss Lafferty stayed and talked
with Elaine and played with Izzy and Yvonne for a while
until she felt calmer. When she felt better and was able to
smile again she returned home.
The next day was worse. The wind had risen and was
blowing ash from the fire miles through the air. Some of it
fell like flakes of snow in the meadow outside the house.
Trucks full of firefighters wearing hard hats and clad in
yellow repeatedly passed down the gravel road beside the
house, driving fast in a rush to get to the fire. The drone of
helicopters and airplanes filled the air. You could occasion-
ally even see aerial tankers flying to drop fire-retardant on
the flames.
They waited nervously for the order to evacuate, which
they thought might come at any moment, blaring from
loudspeakers from the sheriff ’s car driving along the road.
But it never arrived. By mid-afternoon, Yvonne was tired
of waiting, so she walked up the street with Izzy to the
clinic, where she found a white-faced Miss Lafferty pacing
nervously. The animals still left in the clinic were in cages in

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the front waiting room, ready to be carried to a truck and

moved quickly away in case they had to leave, and Miss
Lafferty was wringing her hands and wandering aimlessly
about.
“You look kind of worried,” Yvonne said to her as she
walked past.
“Yeah. It’s hard to concentrate with this fire.”
“I know,” replied Yvonne. She grabbed Miss Lafferty by
the hand and led her over to the couch in the waiting room.
“I could tell you a story. Here. Why don’t you sit down.”
Miss Lafferty sat down on the couch, and Izzy jumped
up beside her and put her head on her lap and wagged her
tail playfully. Then Yvonne began her story.

“Towering mesas walled with warm pink sun-kissed

sandstone embraced and supported a brilliant blue sky.
Amid the saguaro, mesquite bushes and cholla cactus at the
crumbled base of the giant mesa, the Kawaiokuh nurtured
little plots of corn, squash and cotton in the hot, sandy soil.
Snow melt on the top wended its way through the thick
rock of the mesa, emerging at the bottom where it was
channeled by intricate contrivance to carefully tended fields.

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There the Kawaiokuh grew the little food they didn’t gather
as mesquite beans from the desert or hunt from the rabbit
and deer among the juniper trees growing at the top of the
mesa.”
“But there was no water. The winter had come and gone
with no snow and the summer had brought no rains. The
springs at the base of the mesa were dry and the river beds
in the canyons below empty, full of stinging blowing sand.
The corn stalks in the fields were dead, dry gray grassy
stalks that had grown no ears, and the squash vines were
withered. The deer and the rabbits were gone, either having
abandoned the growing desert long before, or remaining
only as little piles of whitened bones in the drifting sand.
The Kawaiokuh people were hungry and tired, exhausted
from the work of walking long miles in the desert to the
few places they knew could still bring them water.”
“Little Bidda ran along the path leading up the mesa,
carrying a round yellow pottery jar balanced on her head. It
was decorated boldly in brown with an angular bird, whose
linear features and triangular face leered at the cloudless sky
scorning it, boastful of the brimming water it carried in its
belly. She’d gathered it drop by drop from a tiny hidden
spring concealed at the base of the next mesa. Her strong
sandaled feet carried her back, tirelessly up the steep rocky
slope that led to her house at the brim of the mesa.”
“Then she saw it: light flashing from the top of the
mesa. The smoke of dry juniper trees, gathered and set on
fire, and the light of the sun scattering from an obsidian
mirror.”
“Ahead. It caught her eye again. Another flash returned
from the top of the next mesa. Grandma Awatobi must be
calling a meeting of the greater tribe.”
“As she neared her home she could hear them playing.
Piping in the guardian spirits with sacred flutes, whistling
like the winter winds through the broken rocks at the edge

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of the mesa. Bidda heard them and rushed on, but still
carefully, so as not to spill a drop as she brushed along the
thick mud-plastered sandstone walls of the longhouse and
inside the door where she found her mother waiting.”
“ ‘Bidda, where have you been?’ yelled her mother as she
burst through the door. ‘The runners from other mesas
ache for water! How can you tarry at such a time?’ ”
“ ‘How was I to know that Dame Awatobi would call the
tribes to council?’ Bidda replied.”
“ ‘You have eyes Bidda. If you can not look upwards to
see the summoning mirrors flashing, at least keep them
trained on your path. Lest you trip and spill your water.’
And her mother sighed, looking at the red of the scratch on
Bidda’s knee, where it had struck a rock in the rush of her
journey.”
“ ‘I spilled no water!’ Bidda replied, her eyes flashing
fiercely.”
Miss Lafferty laughed, interrupting the story. “She must
have looked like you did just now,” she observed giggling.
“You looked really pretty angry.”
“Well, I think her mother was being a bit unfair. After
all, she’d just run several miles down to the spring, spent an
hour gathering water, and run back, and a long way uphill
too. You’d think she’d at least have said something nice
about it in return,” pointed out Yvonne, jutting her chin out
a bit in irritation.
“Maybe the council was an important one and her mom
was worried about it? But anyway, it’s your story.”
“Well you’re right. It was an important council, and
Bidda’s mom was worried. But it was still annoying for
Bidda. Anyway, where was I? Oh yes.” And then Yvonne
continued.

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“Bidda took one drop of water from the yellow bird jar
with her finger, and wiped the blood off her knee with it.
Her mom frowned, but remained silent. She took the jar
from Bidda and left the longhouse carrying it out onto the
meeting ground on the top of the mesa where the runners
from the greater tribe were waiting. And Bidda quietly
followed behind her at a distance.”
“As Bidda reached the council the ghostly whispering of
the flutes abruptly stopped, and the assembly that had been
locked in silence raised their heads and almost as one, stared
at her as her tired legs stumbled among the lose rock by the
side of the path, suddenly making the only sound that filled
the meeting ground.”
“Her eyes met the sad despairing eyes of her mother’s
briefly before turning away, only to be drawn to the heavily
weathered face of Grandma Awatomi, who gazed back at
her with the ancient wisdom of a tortoise, from the fissured
skin of a face as impassive as the channeled rock of the
mesa.”
“Bidda froze in her tracks unable to move and scarcely
able to breath as their eyes met. Then Great Dame
Awatomi spoke to the assembly.”
“ ‘Mother Deer has left us. The dried brittle bones of
her children the rabbits lie were they died in the hard baked
earth of the desert. Even Great Mother Hawk with her
eyes that pierce the soul can see nothing living and has
abandoned us. The mesquite grow no beans and the cactus
do but shrivel under the dry punishing sun, budding neither
fruit nor flower.’ ”
“Grandma Awatobi paused for a moment, and the tired
runners that surrounded her sat wearily listening to her
speak, their faces and shunken eyes reflecting nothing but
the weariness of their journey and the thirst that was but
weakly quenched by the one swallow of water that they
allowed themselves from the jar Bidda’s mother brought

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them. But as the pause grew longer they lowered their

heads, and their faces drooped with the faint sadness that
filled them.”
“ ‘We must away with our sisters, and bid farewell to this
land of mesa and honey, and live once more under the
watchful stare of Great Mother Hawk—’ she continued.”
“But just then Bidda felt the force which had locked her
motionless in place lift, and she found herself speaking as
the mesa top dimmed in the shadow of a cloud passing
overhead. ‘Wait—’ she said. ‘Shouldn’t we dance for the
rain?’ and as she spoke her mother turned around to face
her from the far side of the ring of runners. There she
stood holding the jar with one hand, raising the other to
cover her eyes while she looked down with shame.”
“Grandmother Awatobi just smiled and more softly
spoke and said, ‘Yes little Bidda. First you shall dance,’ and
then gestured gently towards her. Bidda found herself
drawn into the center of the ring of the assembly. And not
really knowing what to do, with only the sound of a single
flute to accompany her, she began to dance.”
Yvonne started to dance for Miss Lafferty just to give
her an idea of how silly it must have looked. She raised her
arms overhead and stuck her butt out sharply at one side
and began to wriggle.
“It looked silly, but Bidda felt better about it as she
began to move and the mysterious music of the flute filled
her spirit. She did some things like this too,” said Yvonne,
doing a couple of handsprings, which she had gotten very
good at after all the yoga she’d done with Ella.
Miss Lafferty giggled. “I wonder if she waved her
underwear at the assembly too.”
“I doubt the Kawaiokuh wore underwear—” answered
back Yvonne, before interrupting herself, and with a little
choke blurted out, “But she didn’t do anything like that at

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all! It wasn’t that embarrassing! Now where was I? Oh.

Well she continued the dance for a few minutes, and then
quite naturally almost by itself it came to an end, and she
stood before Dame Awatobi.”
“Grandma Awatobi stood silently, facing her for a
second, her face impassive, and then a single tear dripped
from her right eye slowly down her deeply wrinkled face to
her chin and fell to the ground.”
“’Dear Bidda,’ she said. ‘Thank you. For you have made
rain.’ And she pointed to the teardrop on the ground.”
“It was quiet for a few seconds on the mesa top, which
was still shrouded by a cloud that covered the sun and
cooled the air. Then the silence was broken by a
thunderclap, and slowly, very gently, rain began to fall and
dot the ground.”
“Oh how wonderful,” said Miss Lafferty clapping. So
she really did make rain!”

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“Yes, and that year they didn’t have to leave the mesa. But
they did the next anyway, because the weather had changed
and it got permanently drier there. But Bidda’s mother was
always proud of her after that, and she went on to become
the next Dame of the Kawaiokuh.”
“Oh that’s a fun story. I wish we could somehow make
rain just like that too,” said Miss Lafferty as she looked out
the window. But then she clasped her hand to her mouth
and shrieked with surprise.
“I don’t believe it,” she squeaked. “Look outside! It’s
raining!”

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Chapter 6
The rain finally put and end to the fire. It smoldered on
for a few days as the rainstorm grew heavier, and then it
passed away as all living things must eventually do, leaving
traces of smoke staining the rocks of the hillside and damp
mounds of ashes in its wake. But no one mourned it, rather
Yvonne and everyone about her rejoiced in the clear blue
autumn sky that followed. Smiles returned to their faces
and soon the fire became a distant memory. Except for
when someone teased her with her new nickname.
“Hi Rain-dance!” called out Ella as she ran to meet her
outside where Yvonne was waiting for the school bus.
Yvonne was close to the side of the road, kneeling down
beside Izzy and petting her.
“Don’t call me that! It’s annoying. And I didn’t bring
the rain. That was just a coincidence!” Yvonne snapped a
bit peevishly as she stood up.
“Your mom tells me she was impressed with your story.
Apparently if you expand upon it properly it has romantic
possibilities—”
“She wouldn’t dare. I’ll kill her!”
“Now don’t be so narrow-minded. After all, I rather
liked the way Child-Bride turned out. I was surprised, but
actually I think I was pretty good as a fictional heroine. I’m
sure she’ll do a good job with you too.”
“I’ll die of embarrassment. You better not say a word to
anyone about it!” replied Yvonne between gritted teeth.
After a surly annoyed moment or two Yvonne calmed
down, and then she turned to Ella and asked her,
“Say, what happened to your sari? I thought you wanted
to wear it to school too.”

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“Don’t be ridiculous. You can’t wear silk like that to

school. But Mom did let me put on a tilaka again. See,” she
said, pointing to the prominent red dot on her forehead.
“It’s a conversation starter.”
“I’ve noticed. But you better be careful. You might start
a fashion,” replied Yvonne.
The bus arrived, and Yvonne boarded it with Ella. They
both waved goodbye to Izzy as the bus slowly pulled away.
Izzy followed barking a little bit and then stopped when she
reached the electric fence. They had had it installed
recently. A big loop of wire was now buried in the
perimeter of the yard, and when Izzy reached it, it made the
electric collar she wore tingle, reminding her to stay within
it.
“I hope Izzy doesn’t get lonely while we are gone,”
remarked Ella.
“She’ll go inside soon with Mom. Mom actually likes
writing that way, with Izzy there with her to keep her
company. And Mom will take her for walks too, which is
good exercise for both of them.”
“She’s gotten so big.”
“I know. She’s almost fully grown. It’s amazing isn’t it?
It’s kind of like we raised her.”
Ella smiled and looked at Yvonne. “You’ve kind of
grown up too, this summer,” she said, touching Yvonne’s
hand.
“And so have you. We’ve grown up a bit together. I’m
glad we’re such good friends now.”

* * *
After school they stopped off at Miss Lafferty’s to say
‘hi’. Miss Lafferty was busy, but she told them to wait for a

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few minutes, and when she had a free moment she came
over to them.
“Look, I have something to show you,” she said, passing
them a photograph.
It was a picture of a deer, a nearly full-grown doe,
captured on film standing in the woods among tall straight
pine trees. The camera flash had caught her eyes, making
them glow red, and a bright yellow band marked one of the
big outstretched ears that were facing the camera.
“Do you remember the fawn you found? That’s her.
The animal rescue society took this picture when they
released her. Apparently they set her free not too far from
here, and they think she joined up with a group of local
deer.”
“Wow. She’s almost fully grown. That’s amazing,” said
Yvonne, holding the photograph.
Later on that year towards the beginning of the winter,
just after the first snow had fallen, Yvonne, Ella and Izzy
were walking one day returning from the cave. They hadn’t
visited it much during the fall. A big swath of the woods
along the way had burned during the fire, and the ashes
from it blackened your feet and worked their way into your
clothes when you walked there. Perhaps there was also the
risk of a mudslide because all the trees which had supported
the soil had burned, and so they had avoided the whole area.
Especially as it was so sad to see what had become of the
beautiful woods that had been there.
Now the ground was covered with a thin layer of snow
which covered up the blackened ground. Footprints still
looked a little funny, because the snow darkened strangely
when pressed down onto the charred surface below it. But
it wasn’t so depressing now with the snow covering things.
They walked very quietly together enjoying the complete
blanketed silence, and then, as they reached the very top of

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the hill and emerged on the flat area that had once been a
clearing, they saw her. It was a doe, standing rock-still,
widely splayed ears facing them. A yellow band was clearly
visible on one ear.
“It’s her! The fawn. She’s all grown!” whispered Ella.
And then utterly silently, like mist cleared by a sudden
breeze, she jumped away and vanished.

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 Afterword

For me, stories are like dreams. The result appears in a

language of symbols best known to the author, and often
the meaning in those symbols is more than expected, even
for the person who wrote the words down. Now in most
books the author never grants the reader an interpretation.
I suppose that’s because a good reader brings their own
symbolic language to the story and might discover through
it beauty the author never dreamed of. But this story was
very much an amateur production, and I don’t think there’s
much risk of spoiling anything. So I’ll tell you what I
discovered after I wrote it, and analyzed it the way I analyze
my own dreams.
I wrote this story first to a friend. She’s a lovely lady I’ve
never met, a bit older than me with two grown sons. She is
proud of her sons, but sometimes I think she wonders what
it would have been like to have a daughter. Now an
attentive reader is hard to find, especially for a writer with
my rather limited abilities, so I conceived of a trick to get
her interested. I told her I would make up a story with an
imaginary daughter in it for her, and that in that story her
daughter would grow up.
The trick worked and my friend read every chapter
eagerly, exactly according to my evil plan, so I was very
pleased. But something else interesting happened along the
way too. For you see, while I’d written stories before for
two of my children, I’d never written one to my oldest
daughter, and so I found as I wrote that many of the words
were addressed to her. And that is why this book is dedic-
ated to her as well as to my friend.
Symbolically, it seems to me that my daughter appears in
the story as Yvonne, and my friend’s personality (along with
that of my own mother’s) inspired the Miss Lafferty
character. Now Miss Lafferty isn’t Yvonne’s mother in the
story, just as my friend isn’t in real life, but they have a
special kind of friendship. One that works its magic at the
key moment when Yvonne discovers her voice as a
storyteller, and she describes Bidda, her mother and
Grandma Awatobi to Miss Lafferty. And then these five
interwoven personalities interlock and make rain.
So I hope my daughter finds her voice, makes great
friends and meets kind, older women who are like a mother
to her, bring wisdom to her life and help her grow as a
person. That’s what I think the symbols say to me.
Thanks for reading!

Carl Quillen
Brookline Massachusetts, 2010