“I, for one, say words are important,” declared Magpie.
“Nobody said they weren’t,” said Hare. “It’s just a question of what is a word…”
“And what isn’t!” yelled Raccoon. “And I’m telling you it’s perfectly obvious that for something to be a word, you have to be able to hear it.”
“Not at all,” said Beaver. “I collect books — you all know that — and books are full of words. But you can listen to them all day and they don’t make a single sound.”
“That’s because nobody is reading them!” said Raccoon, fluffing her tail out.
“I happen to have a book right here,” said Beaver, taking one out. “Now listen closely, Raccoon. I’m going to start reading.”
Beaver opened the book and stared at the pages for a while, then turned to the next page and stared at that one for a while. Then he closed the book and looked at Raccoon. “Well?” said Beaver. “Somebody was just reading that book, and it was me. Did you hear anything?”
“Maybe you were faking,” said Raccoon.
“It’s true,” said Dog, “there are lots of books in my family’s house, and they don’t make any noise. It doesn’t matter whether anyone is doing anything with them or not.”
“That’s beside the point,” said Raccoon. “What I’m saying is that here in the forest we talk to each other, but words are only part of how we do it.”
“Fiddlesticks,” said Hare. “It’s all words. If it’s not words, then what would you say it is that we say to each other?”
“Have a look at Squirrel,” said Hare. “Is he saying anything right now?”
Everyone looked at Squirrel, and everybody could tell his tail was curved in a “why is everybody looking at me?” sort of way.
“I wasn’t saying anything,” said Squirrel. “And I’m still not. Er…I mean now I am, but only to explain that I’m not. Wasn’t. Oh never mind. I’m going to go find some acorns.” Squirrel scampered away, tail curved in an irritated sort of way.
“Now look what you’ve done,” said Raccoon to Hare. “Why did you have to embarrass Squirrel like that?”
“You were going to say that Squirrel was saying ‘why is everybody looking at me’,” said Hare. “Admit it.”
“I admit nothing,” said Raccoon. “But you know as well as I do that Squirrel was embarrassed, then annoyed.”
“Maybe I do and maybe I don’t,” said Hare.
“You do know,” said Raccoon, “and Squirrel told you, but didn’t use words.”
“Correction,” said Hare. “Squirrel uses tail words.”
“Tail words??” sputtered Raccoon. “You can’t just make up something like ‘tail words’ when it suits you.”
“I just did,” said Hare, “so that means I can. And I’ll do it again, Raccoon. I use ear words. Dog uses tail words too, but different from Squirrel’s. And Magpie uses flutter words.”
“There are no such things as flutter words or any of the rest of it,” said Raccoon. “Words are the only words that are words, and the rest are just…well they’re different, that’s all. Not words.”
“We still haven’t settled the bit about my books,” reminded Beaver.
“Oh all right, you win about the books,” said Raccoon. “Let’s just call them words and stop arguing about it.”
“Good,” smiled Beaver. “The words in books are words.”
“Oho!” said Hare, “So you don’t have to hear words for them to be words. You can just see them!”
“Yes, yes, if they’re in books,” grumbled Raccoon.
“Not just books,” said Magpie. There are words on signs, too. I’ve seen them. I’ve even perched on them.”
“There are words on packages, too,” said Dog. “I know when the word says ‘treats.’”
“You know that because you can smell the treats, not because you can read,” said Raccoon.
“So what?” said Dog. “What does it matter how I know? I know. And I’m always right about treats.”
“So,” said Hare, “that proves it. You can hear words, or you can see them or you can even smell them. They’re still words.”
“This is ridiculous,” said Raccoon. “I’ve had enough. Goodbye.” And with that, Raccoon ambled away. Before she was out of sight, she flipped her tail in a most particular way, in the direction of Hare.
Hare snorted. “Did you see what Raccoon just said to me?” he sputtered. But nobody else had been paying any attention.
