Pylimitics

"Simplicity" rearranged


The Race (part 2)

(Here is part 1, which was published second)

Raccoon and Hare had good seats for the race. Otter and Muskrat were right in front of them, and Beaver had come over after checking the race course he’d built.

“How did you build all the streams and ponds, Beaver?” asked Raccoon.

“Oh, it’s just the usual sort of thing I do,” said Beaver, “there was already a little brook running though that field, so I just added a little dam here, a levee there, and then let the water do the rest.”

“It’s pretty impressive,” said Hare. “I wouldn’t know how to start to build something like that.”

“It’s civil engineering, that’s what it is,” said Dog, who was a few seats away. “I can dig a pretty good hole now and then — nothing like yours, Mole, of course — but this is a Major Construction Project, Beaver.”

“Oh, it’s not that big a deal,” said Beaver. He felt a little embarrassed at the attention. “It’s just the sort of thing we beavers do, you know.”

“It’s way better,” said Dog. “When you built your pond — you know, the one around your house — that was just one simple dam. The water just came down the stream and stayed there. But in this race course, look what happens. The water comes in over there, makes a little pond, then it splits in two until it gets to that part, where it widens out…”

“That’s so Jake and Oliver can jump over it or splash through it, whichever they want,” said Beaver proudly.

“Then it makes a few twists and turns…”

“That part was pretty tricky,” said Beaver, “water usually wants to go straight, you know.”

“Then some of it trickles into those mud patches…”

“Those are my favorite,” said Otter. 

“And fills up that other pond…”

“That one is there for hydrological balance,” said Beaver. “It regulates the flow so the little waterfall always looks just right.”

“Right, and then the waterfall. It’s brilliant, Beaver!”

Beaver shuffled his feet. He was saved when Masie mooed an announcement: “Attention everybody! The race is about to begin!”

“Oh good,” said Beaver, finding a seat next to Dog. “Let’s watch the race instead of looking at the race course.”

Jake and Oliver walked up to the start line. It was just a line drawn in the dirt, but there was a sign next to it that read “Start”. 

“The rules of this race,” said Masie, “are…um…well Jake, Oliver, do you know the rules?”

Jake looked at Oliver. Oliver looked at Jake. They both shrugged.

“Look at that,” said Hare to Raccoon, “did you know horses could shrug?”

“I guess we know the rules,” said Jake. “No riding the bus, right?”

“Uh…right,” said Masie. “Okay, are you ready?”

“Sure,” said Jake.

“Guess so,” said Oliver.

“In that case,” said Masie, “On your mark! Get set! Moooooo!”

“Isn’t the last word supposed to be ‘go’?” whispered Raccoon.

“Maybe not if you’re a cow,” whispered Hare back. “But look at Jake and Oliver. What’s going on?”

Everybody had expected Jake and Oliver to start galloping around the race course. But they were just walking at their usual slow, relaxed pace. They strolled up to the first stream that crossed the course, and carefully stepped over it. Jake stopped to take a drink. Oliver politely waited for him.

“This is a strange sort of race,” said Dog. “I thought races meant going as fast as you can.”

Oliver overheard Dog and called out. “This race,” he said, “means going as fast as we want.”

“So it’s a slow race then?” said Dog. “Who wins?”

“We’ll figure that out later,” said Jake, who had water dripping from his chin. “Since we’re horses, we like races…”

“But since we’re us,” finished Oliver, “we don’t really like all that running and panting and sweating. We’d rather have a nice stroll through this lovely landscape Beaver built for us.”

“Beaver,” said Squirrel, who liked it better when things happened the way she expected, “what do you think about this? After all the work you did to build this race course!”

Beaver was smiling. “I like it,” he said. “To be honest, I was a little worried that lots of galloping and splashing around would ruin some of the subtle details of my landscaping.”

“Humph,” said Squirrel. 

Jake and Oliver continued their stroll.

“Hey Beaver,” said Otter, “since this race is going to take a long time, is it okay if Muskrat and I go play in the mud?”

“Sure it is,” said Beaver, “but if you go over that little rise, Otter, you’ll find a little surprise I built. You can’t see it from here.”

“A surprise?” said Muskrat. “Let’s go!” Muskrat and Otter ran to the other side of the field where a slight rise dropped away. They disappeared behind the little hill, and everyone heard whoops of delight. Otter and Muskrat reappeared on top of the rise. “Beaver built us a mudslide!” they yelled. “A really good one!” Then they disappeared again to go sliding. 

Jake and Oliver had gotten as far as the biggest pond. There was a patch of alfalfa beside it, and they took a break to have a snack.

“You know,” said Hare to nobody in particular, “I think the best thing to do in a race like this is to go try it ourselves. Come on, everybody.” With that, nearly everyone got up for a stroll around the race course. Squirrel stayed where she was. 

“Humph,” said Squirrel again. “I brought my own acorns, thank you very much. I shall applaud whoever wins this race. If anyone does, that is.”

“Oh for goodness sake,” said Hare, “come with us, Squirrel. Here, see if this satisfies you.” Hare suddenly took off like a shot, running as fast as he could around the course. In a flash, he’d gone all the way around and passed the finish line. It was just a line drawn in the dirt, but there was a sign next to it that said “Finish.” Hortense was standing next to it. “The winner!” she mooed. She handed Hare a flower.

“What’s this?” asked Hare.

“It’s the prize for winning,” said Hortense. “You won the race, Hare.”

Squirrel clapped. “Hooray for Hare!” she called.

Now will you come with us?” asked Hare.

“Because somebody won the race, yes I shall,” said Squirrel. 

“Good,” said Hare. He handed his flower to Squirrel. “Let’s go check out this excellent race course.” From behind the small hill they heard Otter and Muskrat whooping as they played on the mudslide. 



About Me

I’m Pete Harbeson, a writer located near Boston, Massachusetts. In addition to writing my own content, I’ve learned to translate for my loquacious and opinionated puppy Chocolate. I shouldn’t be surprised, but she mostly speaks in doggerel.