The Amazing and Somewhat Wondrous Adventures of Nicholas Groundhog



  The amazing and somewhat wondrous

  NICHOLAS GROUNDHOGBy

  Robert Ladd

  www.robertladdbooks.com

  Copyright © 2012 by Robert Ladd

  This book or parts thereof may not be reproduced in any form, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form by any means – electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, or otherwise – without prior written permission of the publisher, except as provided by United States of America copyright law. Requests for permission should be addressed in writing to Sun Literary.

  Published by Sun Literary, 7922 Darnell Lane, Lenexa, KS, 66215

  [email protected]

  International Standard Book Number 978-1-4499494-3-3

  FOREWORD

  This is the story of Nicholas Groundhog. A very common groundhog who had a very uncommon adventure, which, as it so often happens, was not one of his own choosing. Had he been given the choice, Nicholas would have much preferred the peace and undisturbed quiet of life at home with his wife and thirteen children, but such was not his lot. His lot called for something more. Something as terrifying as it was marvelous.

  I will try to tell his story as simply as possible, with attention to detail where detail is needed, yet without the added drama that tends to clutter rather than clarify. I have decided, however, not to spare the reader the less than savory aspects or sometimes gruesome events that are essential. Most important of all, I will tell the truth exactly as I know it.

  A wise animal once said, “If you would persuade another that he does wrong, then do right. But don’t try to convince him with mere words. Animals believe what they see; therefore, let them see.”

  Which is what Nicholas did.

  His actions, under the most dire of circumstance, allowed the other animals in the forest to see that heroic deeds can be accomplished, even by the least likely of animals, if attempted with honor, courage and a little bit of luck.

  Today Nicholas is somewhat a legend among the other groundhogs, which is no small feat, as groundhogs are notoriously hard to impress. But impress them he did.

  And this is how it happened.

  CHAPTER ONE

  It was early spring, and the heavily-wooded land known as East-of-the-Rivers was awakening from a long, cold winter. Bright splashes of flowers and wild onion dotted the hillside. A few of the trees had found their leaves, and the air was filled with the sights and smells of a fresh, new season.

  In one corner of the woods stood an open field, and in one corner of the field was a rather large pond, and next to the pond lived the Groundhog family: Mother, Father and their thirteen children. Emma was the mother and the father was Nicholas Groundhog.

  They were a typical groundhog family, as groundhog families go. The children were still too small to venture far from the burrow in which they lived, but Emma kept a close eye on them nevertheless.

  “Stay within whistling distance,” she always told them when they went outside. “You don’t want to miss dinner.”

  Every time her children waddled out the front door, Emma was certain that one of them would wander away and get lost or worse yet, drown in the pond. She couldn’t help herself. She was a Worry-Wart, which was in fact an admirable trait because she worried about all the right things.

  Nicholas, on the other hand, didn’t seem to have a worry in his furry little head. He was as light-hearted and cheerful as any animal that ever lived. He was slow to anger, quick to laugh, and generally well-liked by all the other animals, except the Beaver twins, who didn’t seem to like anyone. It wasn’t that Nicholas was simple-minded. He was just simple.

  The Goundhogs lived in a hole in the ground. Not a hole that was wet and cold or smelly, but one that was lined with leaves and grass and twigs so that it was dry and comfortable. Not at all what you might expect if you’d never lived in one. Some animals called this hole a burrow or perhaps den. Nicholas and Emma called it home.

  Adjoining their burrow (or home, whichever you prefer) was another burrow, in which lived Nicholas and Emma’s children born the previous spring. Adjoining this burrow was yet another burrow, with their children from the spring before that. None of the younger groundhogs were old enough to have a family of their own, and so they all lived together in a continuous maze interconnected by short, narrow tunnels. In all, there were seven boys and six girls. They were a close-knit family, which was to be expected since they practically lived one on top of the other. And while proximity can breed contempt in some animals, such was not the case with the Groundhogs. They seemed to enjoy each other’s company immensely, especially around the holidays.

  One of the most important features of this maze was the three emergency exits, located in various spots some twenty feet from the front entrance. The emergency exits were to be used, well, in case of an emergency. Fortunately one had never arisen, but Emma insisted on having a route to safety, just in case.

  “Better safe than eaten,” she was fond of saying, although this was in the time when all animals were vegetarians. That didn’t matter to her. “First time for everything,” she said.

  The most dangerous thing in the life of the animals was fire. Fortunately, there had not been a fire for as long as anyone could remember. Two years ago, lightning struck a tree that housed the Owl family, but the only injury, if you could call it that, was sustained by Jordan Owl, who developed a rather nervous tic whenever he heard thunder.

  As for the woods itself, no one is quite sure how East-of-the-Rivers got its name, because as far as anyone knew there were no rivers to be east of. It was just one continuous stretch of trees for miles and miles in all directions, with the occasional field or pond. There was a small stream nearby but one hardly large enough to be called a river. Once, Bartholomew Crow claimed to have flown far enough west to see two large rivers, but as crows are the least-trustworthy of all birds, no one paid him a great deal of attention.

  As sunlight filtered into their home that fine spring morning, Nicholas awakened to the sound of the woods outside coming to life. He carefully poked his nose from the burrow and sniffed the air. He wasn’t sure why he bothered to do this, as his sense of smell wasn’t all that keen. But years ago his father told him it was an instinct all groundhogs possessed, so Nicholas felt compelled to demonstrate the behavior even if it served no purpose. As he left the burrow, he was especially careful not to awaken Emma. Like most groundhog mothers, she needed her fourteen hours of sleep. After all, keeping a nervous eye on a family as large as theirs was a tiring business.

  Once outside, Nicholas raised up on his hind legs, and searched the field in all four directions, but as far as his little brown eyes could see, there was no movement, no animals, only the wind in the trees and a few slow-moving clouds.

  This was odd. Typically there were a half-dozen animals already stirring by this time. Guess I have the place to myself, Nicholas decided, which was unusual but rather nice. Nice because, for now, the woods belonged to him. And morning in the woods was special. Everything was so fresh and new and full of possibilities. One never knew what or who was going to be around the next corner – it was all so, well, spontaneous. And Nicholas enjoyed the spontaneous, as long as it didn’t try to eat him, which had actually happened twice before, but that’s another story entirely.

  After a few moments, Nicholas saw the first sign of life: his old friend Beatrix Possum.

  “Morning, Bea,” Nicholas called out happily. “Lovely day for a –” Before he could finish his sentence, however, Beatrix disappeared behind a fallen tre
e.

  Nicholas frowned. Guess she didn’t hear me, he thought to himself, although he was fairly certain she had. A little further on, Penelope Skunk crossed the path a few yards ahead of him. Nicholas summoned his happy voice once again. “Morning, Pen!”

  Much to his horror, Penelope whirled about with an upraised tail. This was not at all what he had expected. A skunk with a raised tail means one thing and one thing only, and it is not a good thing, especially as Nicholas was standing directly in her line of fire.

  “Hey, whoa!” Nicholas shouted. “Pen, it’s me!”

  Penelope lowered her tail much slower than she had raised it. “Oh, Nicholas,” she said with embarrassment. “I’m so sorry. I guess you startled me.”

  In all the years he’d lived in the woods, Nicholas had startled a few of his friends, but none had threatened to punish him for it.

  “Sorry, Pen” he apologized. “I didn’t mean to.”

  Penelope attempted a smile. “That’s OK. It was my fault. After last night, I guess I have a lot on my mind.”

  Last night? Nicholas thought to himself. What happened last night? Before he could ask however Penelope hurried off into the brush without another word

  Nicholas stood alone in the gathering silence, doubly-puzzled now. What’s going on? He wondered. Is it just me, or does everyone –

  “Heads up!” shouted a urgent voice. “Coming through! Coming through! Heads up!”

  Nicholas turned just as Roland Badger came huffing and puffing past him.

  “Beautiful morning, isn’t it, Roland?” said Nicholas hopefully.

  “If you say so,” Roland replied without stopping or even giving his friend so much as a glance.

  Nicholas was baffled. “Roland, stop, please. “Why are you in such a hurry? Why is everyone in such a hurry?”

  Roland paused to catch his breath. He was still carrying a bit of his winter weight, and was not much of a runner to begin with. “Sorry,” he panted. “Haven’t you heard?”

  Nicholas shook his head.

  Roland glanced nervously over his shoulder, as if something might be gaining on him. “Last night,” he said in a hushed tone. “Someone killed Tammeus Bear.”

  A small jolt of electricity raced through Nicholas. His fur stood on end. His knees went weak.

  “They found his body near the old Elm,” Roland continued. “His throat had been...” Roland swallowed so loud it made a noise. “He was murdered, Nick. In cold blood.”

  Nicholas was horrified. “But how? I mean, Tammeus? He’s the largest creature in the forest. No animal could have –”

  That’s just it,” Roland interrupted. “They don’t think it was an animal.”

  Nicholas and Roland’s eyes locked together then, as if a thin silver wire had suddenly pulled tight between them. Animals have a sixth sense about danger, and suddenly all twelve of their senses told them the same thing: something evil had arrived in the land East-of-the-Rivers.

  Roland turned to continue his flight. “There’s a Council Meeting tonight. Eight O’clock at Gray-Rock. You’re on the Council, right?”

  Nicholas nodded yes.

  “Good. I’ll see you there.”

  Nicholas nodded again.

  “Be careful,” Roland called over his shoulder as he waddled off. “There’s a strange scent in the air today. One I’ve never smelled before.”

  Which was something Nicholas would have to take at face value, because as far as he could tell, there was nothing to smell in the air but air.

  Suddenly the bright and cheerful morning was anything but bright and cheerful. And as much as he enjoyed his daily stroll, Nicholas felt an overwhelming desire, no, an overwhelming need, to be with his family. And so he did what all good groundhogs do when their day suddenly goes bad: he turned and went home as quickly as his four little feet could carry him.