Winnie-the-Pooh was sitting next to Piglet in a warm patch of sunlight. They were watching the river flow slowly past. “Piglet,” said Pooh, “watching the river makes me think of a little hum.”
“It does, Pooh?” said Piglet. “Is it because of the animals on that raft that just floated around the bend?”
“I don’t think so, Piglet,” said Pooh, who hadn’t noticed the raft. He looked as hard as he could at the raft. “Those animals,” said Pooh, “don’t look familiar, Piglet.”
“And the raft is floating right over to us,” said Piglet nervously. “Do you think they’re friendly animals, Pooh?”
“Im sure they are, Piglet,” said Pooh, who wanted to make his friend feel better. “There aren’t any heffalumps or woozles there.”
“I don’t know what kinds of animals those are,” said Piglet. “I wonder if they’re going to stay.”
“Well, Piglet,” said Pooh, as the raft nudged the shore just below where they were sitting, “let’s go ask them.”
As Pooh and Piglet stood up, the animals crowded off the raft and came up the bank.
“Hullo,” said Pooh. “I’m Pooh, and this is Piglet.”
“Pleased to meet you,” said a bluish-colored animal that looked a bit like a goat. I’m Bharal. That is to say, I am A bharal. But I think I’m the only one in these parts, so I just use “Bharal” as my name. And this,” he said, pointing with his chin at a sort of a monkey beside him, “is my friend Langur. He’s from India, don’t you know.”
“Good morning,” said Langur. “Bharal is a very modest fellow; he didn’t mention that he comes from far way too. The Himalayas.”
“Oh,” said Pooh, “are there a lot of them?”
“A lot of what?” asked Langur.
“Hima…himalayas,” said Pooh, who wasn’t quite sure.
“Oh the Himalayas are mountains,” said a small animal. She looked like a mouse, and stood up as tall as she could on her back legs to make sure she was seen. “There are ever so many of them, and they’re quite high. They have snow on top.”
“Even when it’s not wintertime?” asked Piglet, who was feeling more sure of himself now that there was another Very Small Animal there.
“Yes, all year long,” said the small animal. “They’re much too high and cold for me. My name is Hyrax.”
“Er…welcome to the Hundred Acre Wood,” said Piglet. “Do you like haycorns, Hyrax?”
“I don’t know,” said Hyrax, I’ve never heard of haycorns before. But those leaves look tasty.”
“Hey there,” said a small bird, fluttering over from the raft to land on Bharal’s head. “How youse doin’? Junco’s the name, and I’m wild, not tame.”
“Oh,” said Pooh, “that’s the beginning of a good hum, Junco.”
“Don’t know about hums; I’ll just see what comes,” replied the bird, “and I won’t leave you danglin’ — here’s my friend Pangolin.”
A smallish animal with a very long nose had just ambled up. “Greetings,” said the animal. “My name is Pangolin. Don’t mind Junco, he’s from America and everything he says rhymes. He says that’s how they talk there.”
“Hullo,” said Pooh. “I think I should like to visit a place where everything rhymes.”
“Vell in my country ve do not rhyme,” said a small horse, trotting over from the raft. “Ve gallop. Vell met, new friends, call me Tarpan.”
“W-where are you from, Tarpan?” asked Piglet. He was feeling better and better since most of the new animals seemed to be rather small and so far not one of them was nearly as loud or bouncy as Tigger.
“From Russia,” said Tarpan. “Gallop all the way here. Except for ride on raft; too small for gallop.” Tarpan galloped away to explore the meadow.
“Is Tarpan gone?” asked a voice, as a hole appeared in the ground. A small face peeked out. “I like to be careful around Tarpan; he doesn’t always watch where he steps, and one time it was right on my head.”
“Were you riding the raft too?” asked Pooh.
“I was indeed,” said the new animal, who also looked like a mouse. “Just checking out the dirt you have here; very nice indeed. Excellent dirt for tunnels. Not all dirt is good for tunnels, you know. You have to have the right kind, so your tunnel doesn’t fall in. It’s best if it’s soft enough so your paws don’t get tired. I’m Zokor, by the way. Spend most of my time down here out of the way. So I don’t get many, what is it…opportunities, I think, for conversation. But really, your dirt in these parts is first rate. Very nice interlude from riding out in the open, and on top of water besides. Not sure I’m altogether comfortable with that sort of journey, not sure at all…”
“A-HEM!” interrupted a lizard with star-shaped spots. “Would you PLEASE let someone else get a word in? Stellion here. Nice to meet you, Pooh, Piglet. Allow me to introduce Quokka; she’s from farther away than any of us. Australia!”
Quokka nodded and smiled shyly. “Quokka is a bit shy,” explained Stellion. “I think,” he said in a low voice, shielding his mouth with his paw, “it’s because she has no tail.”
Quokka blushed, but said nothing. But she felt better when everyone’s attention turned away to the new arrival from the raft; someone who scampered up boisterously and certainly did have a tail. Which he shaped into a hook, hooked himself around Bharal’s neck, and gave everyone a wide toothy grin.
“Hello there,” said the animal, who looked a bit like a bear and a bit like a cat. “Me name’s Binturong. Know any good jokes?”
“I don’t think so,” said Pooh. “Piglet, do you know any jokes?”
“I should think we would need to ask Owl,” said Piglet. “Because and Owl likes to Know things, and maybe jokes are some of them.”
“Pity,” grinned Binturong. “But you know what the duck said when she bought lipstick.”
“I’m afraid I don’t know, Binturong,” said Pooh. “What did the duck say?”
“Put it on my bill!” said Binturong, and laughed so hard that everybody else laughed too, even Pooh (who didn’t quite see what was so funny).
