PROLOGUE
“How did we get this information?”
A rather corpulent gray squirrel turned away from a screen and stared at the six other squirrels who were attending the secret meeting.
Christopher Bitsquirrel, who had called the meeting, cleared his throat. “Bob Smitcorn sent a kuk from somewhere in the west, perhaps Nutchez. We don’t know much about this place. That was last week. Since then we haven’t heard from him or the other team members. Here is a fact sheet for everybody.” He handed out the six small scrolls that lay next to him.
The squirrels looked at the information and the room fell quiet. Finally, the tallest squirrel in the room stated, matter-of-factly, “If this information leaks out, our economic development plan will fall flat, for obvious reasons.”
“It may not even be true,” a thin-lipped squirrel argued. “This is probably just one of the many forecast models.”
“It’d be inconvenient if it were true. We are planning to launch an economic revolution next year,” the tall squirrel reiterated. “I believe it would be irresponsible to share this information with the tribe as long as we are not one-hundred percent certain that this projection is correct.”
“Exactly... Irresponsible,” the thin-lipped squirrel agreed.
“Haste makes waste,” the only white squirrel in the room chimed in.
The corpulent squirrel teetered nervously. “Okay. So then I propose to wait with any further action until we get more facts. Christopher, please notify us immediately when you hear from Bob Smitcorn. Meeting adjourned.”
~*~
(Eighteen months later...)
It was an extraordinary day. Harry just knew it. The obvious proof was – he had spotted a big, juicy raspberry. Raspberries were so rare, he had only seen them in pictures.
His view of the raspberry bush was partially obstructed by an oak tree he had wanted to climb. Then again, he had already forgotten the oak tree, the acorns, and everything else.
Stepping closer, Harry saw that the raspberry bush had produced only a single berry.
Even better! This meant it was his.
If the bush had produced more than one berry, he’d be required to run back to the burrow, report the finding, and get help with harvesting the sweets. The bounty would be shared by many squirrels. Who knew if he’d be allowed to eat a whole berry? This had never happened before.
There was but one conclusion to be drawn. Better eat the raspberry right now before another squirrel comes by.
Cautiously, Harry climbed the thorny cane, secured the berry with a spider web thread, and carefully lowered it onto a big flat rock right underneath. Then, he jumped down to savor the treat. Slowly, he munched each drupelet separately. Oh, my... what a delicacy!
v
Harry laid back on the rock and reflected on how lucky he was. In history class, he had learned about the famines the squirrel society had to endure after the environment changed. Though there had been forewarnings and signs, the disastrous surge had arrived suddenly. On the coast, tens of thousands of burrows got flooded and millions of squirrels drowned; woods and farmlands got destroyed.
After the waters receded, the fathers of today’s nation, George Squirrelton and Benjamin Franknut, had told his great-great-great-great-great-grandfather’s generation that squirrels had to organize themselves to form a society that helped all squirrels in all of the land. The wisest of the squirrels had come together and written down the rules, for instance, that squirrels could eat a single berry if they found one. Though the guidelines allowed for small indulgences, in general, all decrees focused on securing the safety and health of all squirrels, nationwide.
Still, conditions stayed grim for a long time. Often, the tribes had to move because excessive heat and storms destroyed their food supply. His own mother had died during one of those devastating storm periods. Things only changed when the late, great Steve I’Squirrel discovered that the weird boxes they found in deserted human dwellings could be used to communicate with other tribes. I’Squirrel named them smartboxes. And, clever Bill Gatsquirrel discovered an industrial complex full of power kernels which stored the magic power that kept the smartboxes working. A school was set up so squirrels could learn using the boxes.
President Bill Clintsquirrel, who liked new technologies, promised a smartbox in every classroom in the nation. Legend had it that it took the efforts of more than ten thousand squirrels to distribute the thousands of smartboxes and power kernels to all tribes in all the lands. Luckily, he, Harry, became a beneficiary of this program.
The clever idea lead to great prosperity in the squirrel nation.
The year after the boxes were delivered, the Brighter Future for Squirrels Conference was held for the first time. Steve I’Squirrel and Bill Gatsquirrel were the keynote speakers. They explained how using the newly discovered technologies would help squirrels in taking control of their future.
Harry remembered the event well. Using the smartboxes, I’Squirrel’s and Gatsquirrel’s comments were live-streamed to most squirrel tribes. It was the first time that squirrels watched moving pictures.
Soon thereafter, legendary Jeff Biztree set up a trading platform. Tribes who needed healthy foods could order it by using the smartboxes. And, Bill Russellsquir, Bill Waddellsquir, and Alex Majorsquir set up a transport system to deliver foods to all burrows in the republic. They named their company The Deer Express. The inventive trio accomplished this seemingly impossible task by setting up partnerships with deer societies. The deer transported squirrel messengers and merchandise in exchange for vital information about the weather, storm damage to woods and fields, updates about the water quality of rivers and lakes, and, of course, predator sightings.
To protect the nation and support their allies, The Squirrel Council also established the Central Kernel Agency for the specific purpose of collecting, analyzing, and disseminating this type of information.
v
Somewhere behind Harry, a branch cracked.
Startled, he sat up and looked around. “Better hide,” he thought. A deer broke out of the woods and ran downhill. Even though he could only glance at it, Harry spotted Phillip Deerrel, his tribe’s finest messenger, on the back of the deer. Obviously, Phillip returned from making a delivery.
“Phillip is going to climb the career ladder,” Harry thought. “And I? I have been daydreaming, again. If I keep doing this, The Council will never give me permission to go on an expedition.”
Going on an expedition was his ultimate goal. He would have gladly traded the raspberry or even a dozen, if he had that many, just for getting permission to go. The bitter truth was The Council had said “not this year” for the second year in a row and there was no arguing with The Council.
Harry decided to return to the burrow and record the coordinates of the raspberry bush. If, in the future, it’d produce plenty of fruit, maybe he would get promoted; after all, he discovered the bush. And, maybe, a promotion would lead to getting permission to go on an expedition.
~ v ~
2 - NUTTINGTON
Located in the Appalachian Mountains, Nuttington, capital of the Sciurus States, was literally a shining city upon a hill.
The gray squirrels’ main burrow was a state-of-the-art compound. Tunneled below a 250-year-old oak tree, it offered amenities unheard of in the world of squirrels. Ever since the discovery of the smartboxes eliminated the need to relocate, the tribe invested in creating the infrastructure to support their society’s ambitious way of living.
Most remarkable was the Nuttateria, where squirrels could dine on nuts, fungi, seeds, dried insects, and caterpillars, and even small bird eggs. Located at the center of the burrow, the Nuttateria served as a living monument of the squirrel nation’s greatest accomplishment – overcoming the hardships of the past, the famines that killed more than three million squirrels nationwide. There was also a government center where the president and The Council worked, a business center where squirrel industrialists discussed new ideas and deals, a scroll library with a scriptorium, two dozen community warehouses that stored nuts and other edibles, and more than one hundred suites for influential squirrel families and important guests. At the backside of the burrow, next to a lake with a pine chips beach, Nuttington Bowl hosted concerts and plays. On event days, the adjoining beach bar even served artisan pecan liquor.
A pleasant walk away, in the valley to the north, next to a human-made cell tower, the burrow’s tech hub had been established. The campus included the Smartbox Center, the school, the academy, a training center, and a burrow with suites for teachers and visiting squirrel lecturers. To the east of this subdivision with the lofty name “Brainhub,” half a dozen sweet potato fields stretched through the valley, also serving as an outdoor lab for the school’s agriculture program. North of the Squirrel Academy entrepreneurial squirrels had set up artisan workshop-burrows. There, they produced maize scroll sheets, woven nut baskets, straw pillows and mattresses, gourd water containers, and other luxury items their grandparents had not even dreamed about.
v
Returning to the main burrow’s Biz Center, Harry noted the exact location of the raspberry bush on a map made from maize husks.
At Nuttington’s Biz Center, every food gatherer had their own file. Without a doubt, this feature made the Sciurus States’ food gathering operations so successful. Mapping out their secret hunting grounds helped the squirrels in streamlining the harvest-to-storage process.
While Harry made annotations, Cassandra Keela Allsquirrel lined up behind him. Cassandra Keela, a geeky-looking Northern Flying Squirrel, had moved here from Virginia. Most everybody called her Cee-Kee.
“Hey Harry, good to see you,” she said. “Did you already visit your Great-Grandpa? I heard he was looking for you.”
“Thanks, Cee-Kee.” Harry dropped the pen and rushed through the tunnel system to the back of the burrow. Because Great-Grandpa was the tribe’s oldest member, he lived in a suite deep underground where it was warmer during the winter.
~~~ v ~~~
3 – JUANITA
“Great-Grandpa, guess what I found.” Harry dashed into the living room, then stopped in utter surprise. Next to Great-Grandpa sat a young, black squirrel girl he had never seen before. The girl had the biggest, prettiest eyes but her dark fur was matted and uncombed.
“Now, now, Harry, please don’t forget your manners.” Great-Grandpa smiled mildly. “This is Juanita Squirnández. Originally, her family lived in a region called Texas. Apparently, Texas is a country in the southwest of the continent. During the Great Disastrous Flood, their tribe’s life raft log was swept east and they built a new life somewhere southwest of here, on a barrier island. Unfortunately, a few full moons ago, her tribe’s burrow got flooded during a big storm and most of the tribe members perished.”
Great-Grandpa briefly glanced at Juanita to see if his telling her story upset her.
“The few survivors tried to find a new tribe. Juanita got separated from her friends but the clever girl was able to hitch rides on a few deer. The deer brought her here – to us.”
Wow, what a story. Harry gasped. He loved hearing adventure stories. Turning to Juanita he asked, “How many moons were you traveling? By the way, I am Harry. Pleased to meet you.”
Surprised at his reaction, Juanita stammered, “Many moons... many, many moons. We tried to stay with a few tribes but they did not want us.” She looked a bit embarrassed. “They called us black rats with bushy tails.”
How strange. Harry bit his lip, he didn’t know what to say.
Squirrels’ furs came in all colors – gray, tan, red, orange, blonde, black, and even white. Why had these squirrels called Juanita names?
“Now, girl, there is no need to cry.” Great-Grandpa smiled at her. “You can stay with us. We think your dark fur is very pretty.” And, turning to Harry, he said, “Why don’t you show Juanita around and introduce her to the tribe? It’s time for my afternoon nap.”
4 - FREEDOM, EQUALITY, JUSTICE, & SQUIRRELITY
Back in the tunnels Harry asked Juanita, “So, what would you like to see first?”
“Oh, I don’t know, I have never visited a big burrow like this one. I am hungry. Could I maybe get some nuts before we look at anything?”
“Sure. We have a Nuttateria. Please follow me.”
The Nuttateria had been tunneled right under the big oak tree. Juanita could see the exposed tap root at the back wall. It was decorated with a carved wood portrait depicting George Squirrelton and Benjamin Franknut. Of course, since Juanita knew nothing about the founders of the Sciurus States, she did not recognize them.
The mess hall was manned by two squirrels who greeted them happily. “Hey, Harry, what’s up? And, who is your friend?”
Juanita looked around, flabbergasted. Speechless, she stared at the neat arrangement of hazelnuts, hickory nuts, pecans, pine nuts, and walnuts that were stockpiled by variety and size at the back wall. On a root that served as a counter stood small, pine-bark dishes filled with wild cabbage pieces and dried caterpillars. At the very end of the counter sat a couple of gourds labeled “water.” Juanita had never seen anything like this eatery.
Realizing that the poor girl was overwhelmed, Harry took charge of the moment.
“Thanks for asking. Why don’t you give us a sample basket? Guys, this is Juanita. She is from the southwest. We don’t know what kind of nuts grow there. So, it’s probably best if she samples a few of ours.”
Then, turning to Juanita, he suggested, “Let’s eat outside. It’s a beautiful afternoon.”
He ushered the bewildered squirrel girl through the backdoor.
A few minutes later, they sat down on a moss pillow between the oak tree’s surface roots. Juanita eagerly grabbed a pecan and nibbled on it.
“Thank you. This is so good. I was so hungry. I haven’t eaten anything all day.”
“You are welcome, Juanita. Didn’t you have a Nuttateria at your old home? I thought all burrows had one.”
“Our old shelter was nothing like yours. I’ve never even heard the word Nuttateria, let alone seen one.”
For a second, she looked as if she was about to start crying.
“Originally, like really long ago, my ancestors lived in a wildlife refuge, in Texas. Then, the Big Disastrous Floods came...”
~~~ v ~~~
ISBN 978-1-7324211-1-0 (paperback)
ISBN 978-1-7324211-2-7 (hardcover)
ISBN 978-1-7324211-0-3 (ebook)
Library of Congress Control Number: 2018906505
© 2018 by Gisela Hausmann
Black and white engrave isolated squirrel illustration: Evgeny Turaev
