Word Pictures

DISCLAIMER: I am purposely not adding any pictures to this post.  I want you, Dear Reader, to form your own pictures for this post.

Shortly after I began working on my last post about Words, Kevin Cordi posted the above quote on Facebook.  "Hooray," I thought, "the lead-in to my next blog."

I promised a story or two; so I'll start with a poem I wrote one morning while watching the world from my backdoor as the rain stopped and the mist began rising over the Valley.

After Effects of Rain

© Julie Moss

March, 2015

On a misty, moisty morn

Vapors rise from the valleys

As smoke rises from

The village fires.

Damp air hangs heavily

Clinging to the mountains

And even though the temp

Is warm, a chill permeates.

The cat refuses to stay inside

Prowling the new wetness

Instead of sitting by her

Fire.  What does she seek?

The mistress dreams of a day

With no obligations

A day of her own

To do with as she wishes.

Here's a link to an older post that tells the story of how I came to be in this world.
What's your coming into the world story?

Z is for Zip-piddy-do-da!

Zip-piddy-do-da!  Finished Done I did it!  I finished the A-Z Blogging Challenge.  I've been blogging sporadically for some time using random thoughts that sorta, kinda had something to do with storytelling. This month of daily blogging has taught me a number of things about blogging.

·       Blogs don’t have to be long.

·       There’s a lot to write about storytelling.

·       Pictures count.

·       Write from the heart.

·       Tell a story of some sort within the blog.

·       I’m pretty sure I can do this at least twice a month now.

I have to credit my friend and “alter-ego,” Pam Faro with getting me to do this challenge.  She did it last year in order to see if she could.  And she did.  And so I took on the challenge even though April is typically a very busy month for me.

I wrote a week’s worth of blogs in March just to get myself started.  I limited my word count to fewer than 300 (most of the time) which is hard for a wordy person to do.  I chose my daily subjects.  After looking at the daily subjects I chose the theme “It’s All about Story.”   As I wrote pictures came.  I became more familiar with Blogspot and found it easier to use as I became accustomed to the format.

So for the ending a very short story, one from my book, Old China through the Eyes of a Storyteller - “The Snipe and the Mussel,”  a 2300 year old fable about cooperation.

A Snipe found a Clam on the beach and decided to eat it for lunch.  But the Clam would have none of it and clamped down hard on the Snipe’s long beak.  They pulled and tugged but neither could get away from the other. 

The Snipe, through his nose, told the Clam, “If you don’t let go there will be a dead clam on the beach tomorrow.”

To which the Clam retorted, through clenched shell, “If I don’t let go there will be a dead Snipe on the beach tomorrow too.”

They pulled and tugged but neither could get away from the other.  Then along came an unlucky fisherman who saw the tugging and pulling.  He laughed, calling them both bulls (stubborn).  Then had snipe and clam stew for dinner.

Y is for Young

Young children – meaning babyhood through toddlerhood – love to be told stories.  Of course the stories have to be short, involve things they know about and perhaps even involve lap sitting.  All these things I learned from the youngest among us.

Two years ago while attending a meeting with educators where Colorado's Lt Governor, Joe Garcia  was speaking (his two pet projects are Early Childhood Education and Higher Education), I was given three precious minutes to explain why storytelling is important in Early Childhood Education.  I spoke with storytellers who work with the youngest children and mapped out a plan for my three minute speech which went well. 

But not everything goes according to plan.  While the Lt Governor did not jump on the “Band Wagon,” the director of the San Luis Valley Early Childhood Education Council did.  The upshot being that I was to teach a college class in Storytelling for Early Childhood Educators.  The class was full.  The class was fun.  The instructor learned a lot.  And so did the students.

One thing we addressed was the Vocabulary Gap where we centered our discussion on the merits of storytelling in teaching vocabulary.  (More Vocabulary Gap websites here.)  It’s the second best way, you know, following closely on the heels of conversation to teach vocabulary.  It’s the eye contact, the closeness, the feeling of “I’m the one being paid attention to!”

So tell stores to the little ones in your life.  As they grow older they may ask you, as my grandsons ask me, “Read us a story from your head, Grandma.” or "Let's make up stories together!"

U is for Unconditional Love

“If you wilt but stay as beautiful as you are today. I will love you forever,” the king told his queen. 

“And who shall judge my beauty?” she inquired of the king.

“Why I shall, of course,” was the reply.

“Will your standards for beauty change as you age?” she asked coquettishly.

“No!” he thundered.

And she wondered if the rewards of queenship were worth what lay ahead.

That passage is not from any story I am familiar with, but it is said in a variety of situations and with a variety of words day after day after day.

Unconditional love does not use the word “If”.  Near on 60 years ago there was a man who showed me what unconditional love for a woman looked like.  My grandparents were making one of their rare visits to our home.  Both Grandma and Grandpa were in the living room with me when Grandma got up and left to go help my mom in the kitchen.  As she left the room, Grandpa turned to me and said, “There goes the most beautiful woman in the world!”

I’d always thought of my grandparents as old, although in the little story above they were probably around the age I am now (and of course I’m not old!).  To my young eyes Grandma did not have any of the attributes the magazine ads and TV touted as beautiful, but in Grandpa’s eyes she was and always had been from the moment he met her, the most beautiful woman in the world.

Their love story was just as beautiful.  They’d never told it to their children, but one winter afternoon in the late 1960’s when two of my cousins and I were exploring the attic with them, the Romantic (Grandpa) told us the story.  We sat still, drinking in the tale we’d never heard before and loving every detail.  It was so much better than the story we’d been hearing all our lives – “I couldn’t teach her math so I had to marry her.”  He told about the “pursuit,” the proposal, the acceptance and the unconditional love.  Ahhhh, yes, that special love that does not fade.  It’s not found by everyone, but when it comes, grab hold with both hands and toss the word “if” from your vocabulary!

T is for Temptation

Janet ventured out one day knowing full well that she was not supposed to go anywhere near Carterhaugh.  She found herself there anyway perhaps because it is tempting to go where one has been forbidden to go.  It was tempting to pluck a sweet smelling rose; so she did.  The young man who appeared tempted her to walk with him.

So many temptations all in one afternoon.  And if you know the story of Janet and Tam Lin (or the ballad), you know not only how tempted she was, but also that he was tempted as well.  Janet was different from the other lassies who made their way either through knowledge or fate to Carterhaugh.  She was a young woman who knew her mind.  She was more curious than afraid.  Janet went of her own free will into the forest with Tam Lin.

Janet proved to be brave when she freed Tam Lin from the faerie spell.  And because she yielded to temptation, she found something so precious she was willing to give her own life to save his.

Temptation finds us all at various points in our lives.  We must judge the merits of the temptation before giving in to it.  Will it give satisfaction for a moment or a life-time?  Is it fleeting like the taste of chocolate cake or life changing as in the case of True Love?  Only we can decide for ourselves, and thus our free will.

Now back to the story.  Janet saved Tam Lin’s life and did not lose her own although she risked it.  Their child had two loving parents because of Janet’s bravery.  Carterhaugh was returned to its rightful heirs, and all turned out for the best.  So one might say with all that temptation going ‘round, a life was saved and two lives were changed and a third life begun and the Fairy Queen lost because of True Love. 

Not all temptations turn out so well, but in Fairy Tales, true love finds its own and proves to have a pull far harder to resist than chocolate cake at midnight.

R is for Road Trips, Radio and Research

All storytellers go on road trips, but I would be willing to bet that those of us who live in rural areas travel more and more often than our counterparts who live in metro areas.

Sometimes our road trips turn into a story such as the one I used to tie stories together at the National Storytelling Network last July where I was an emcee for one of the Regional Showcases.  Sometimes our road trips can be used for research – places we’d like to come back to, stories we find along the way when we talk with people, stories of places, pictures of small post offices.

And, of course, there’s the radio.  It’s interesting to see what you can find as local radio stations.  For example, I tell stories on two small community radio stations in rural Colorado.  As a storyteller it would delight me to no end to be driving through an area and tune into Stories!  In fact this summer people take to the road for the purpose of vacation, I will be doing a radio show dedicated to Road Trips.

Speaking of Radio – there are other radio stations playing stories out there.  The Rocky Mountain Storytelling Newsletter, of which I am the editor, lists several of them.

Julie Moss is host of "Storytime Radio" which airs on the 1st and 3rd Saturday of each month on KHEN "Community Radio for the Upper Arkansas Valley" from 5:00-6:00 pm, and on the 2nd and 4th Saturday of each month on KRZA "Community Radio for the Upper Rio Grande Valley" from 5:00-600 pm.

 Internet Story Radio opportunities include:

"A World of Storytelling Radio" 

Buck Creacy says, "Give a listen to the world's only 24/7/365 Radio Station dedicated to Storytellers & Storytelling." You can also listen to the station on iTunes radio.  Go to iTunes, click radio, click talk radio, look for "World of Storytelling."
Click & make it a Fave. 

  

The Story Mine hosted by David Bullock airs Sunday Mornings at 8:30 am. Streaming live at KPCW.org David says: We are accepting CD's of good stories at The Story Mine, 285 Starview Drive, Park City, UTah 84098

  

BYU Radio

Originates from the campus of Brigham Young University in Provo, Utah. Listeners tune in via Sirius XM satellite radio, channel 143, online at byuradio.org, and on iTunes. The Apple Seed, hosted by Sam Payne, features Tellers and Stories.  It airs three times daily, five days a week.  

I is for Ice Cream

Before I could read, Mom bought a set of encyclopedias from a traveling salesman.  By the time I needed to use them for school, they were somewhat outdated.  But this is not a story about encyclopedias or traveling salesmen.

Along with that set of encyclopedias came two sets of story collections.  One of my sisters has the two volume set, and I have the eight volume set missing volume 3.  The books are red, thus my sisters and I called them “The Red Books.” (The correct title for the series is Book Trails.  Many nights out bedtime stories were from those books.  We each had our favorites.  One of mine was about ice cream.  The story was written in folktale form by Frances R. Sterrett, a fiction writer in the early 1900’s.

In a nutshell we learn that ice cream was invented in the Kingdom of Perhaps (don't you love that name?) where from October 1 to May 1 the king would only drink very, very hot beverages, and from May 1 to October 1 he would only drink very, very cold beverages.  His favorite summer beverage was cream made as cold as possible and served with different flavored syrups each day of the week.  The head cook had seven daughters and changed their names to the names of the syrups – the eldest being named Strawberry for that was the type of syrup the king used on Sunday.

Strawberry and the ice boy, Adoniram, were able to make the cream colder than it had ever been in the past.  However the king demanded that it be made colder and then colder.  So on Tuesday, Vanilla accidentally dumped her syrup into the cream while it was being made colder.  Because they were almost out of time they rolled the tin can about in the chunks of ice to make it colder.  The result was a vanilla tasting cream so thick it had to be eaten with a spoon. 

 

Flavored Ice Cream with Syrups

The King was so pleased that Strawberry received her 10 promised golden rings which she shared with her six sisters and Vanilla received five golden rings because she came up with the idea of putting the syrup directly into the cream.  And of course, it’s implied that they live “Happily Ever After” because everyone loves ice cream, and they invented it.

I could find no reference to this story on the internet, but I did come up with a site for an ice cream place near San Francisco named “The King’s Cream.”   The books (not mine) are for sale.  Here's a link to ebay.

G Is for Grandmas

Grandmas, those women who love you no matter what.  Both my grandmas were strong women who made their own way in the world.  They did not choose careers in male dominated areas, they did not make breakthrough discoveries, they did not travel the sea and go through Ellis Island to become American.  They did make their own way on their own.  They raised families.  They told stories.

Grandma Moss as a Young Woman

My father’s mother told me the story of how she became a nurse.  I was four when she told me and remember sitting on the coach beside her, my feet sticking straight out in front of me enraptured by her adventure.  In a nutshell, here’s her story.

When she was 11 or 12 Elsie Mae was delegated, by default, the task of taking care of her sick family as well as the threshers.  (For those of you who may not know back in the days of Elsie Mae’s youth when it was your farm’s turn to house and feed the threshers in return for the threshing of your grains, it was your turn and it had to be done.)  But when she expressed her desire to become a nurse, her family frowned and told her to become a teacher.  So Elsie Mae learned how to teach and taught only long enough to make enough money to put herself through nursing school.  She forsook the thought of marriage for that of career … Until she met the son of the woman she was caring for.  At the age of 30 Elsie Mae and Will married under the firm understanding that she was not an unpaid nursemaid for his mother and that she would have a career.

Grandma was 70 when I was born and left this world at 75.  The snippets I remember of our time together are strong.

Grandma and Grandpa Fisher
50th Wedding Anniversary

My mother’s mother spent seven years of her young life living on a homestead in Nebraska where her father eked out a living until their farm was wiped out either by grasshoppers or locusts.  She told stories of playing hide the thimble (until it became irretrievably lost) and making chickens talk.  They came back to Iowa when she was eight.  The boys were born and her mother died.  Laura went to live with the German aunts back in Germany until her father remarried and gathered all the children again except Willis the youngest who didn’t remember any of his family.  The new mother was, in Laura’s words, a drunkard.  The girls did all the work and one by one left the family during their early teens.  Laura wanted to finish school, but needed help with math.  A handsome young engineer who ate lunch at the restaurant where she worked came to the rescue.  He tutored her in math and eventually asked her to marry him.  Laura consented.  They lived with her in-laws for awhile until in a fit of fury her mother-in-law threw a pair of scissors at her while she was nursing her first born.  Laura and Ed left and never lived with his parents again.  Laura raised five children in various houses throughout the Davenport/Muscatine areas in Iowa.  She dedicated her life to family.

Grandma’s house was a safe place to spend two weeks every summer.  In fact most of my summertime memories are from the Farm where my grandparents lived out their lives.

I'm a grandma myself now and hope that I am making an impression on my grandsons.

How did your grandma(s) shape you?

F is for Friendship (by Chance)

Friendships are made, cemented, broken.  But one thing we can never change about our friendships is how they came to be, how they were born.

Friendship by Chance is perhaps the most refreshing friendship.  Let me tell you a story about one such friendship.  I have to go back a way in time to when I lived in Florida for nine months.  And even further back than that to when I went to a conference where the first person I met was one I’d been told to look for.  She was right there at the check in desk waiting for the computer to decide to work.  We waited together and got to know each other some.  Carrie lives in Florida.

So when I spent nine months caring for my grandson, I knew I couldn't go without Story, my constant companion in life.  I joined the Tampa Bay Storytellers’ Guild and met some wonderful tellers.  And besides I already knew Carrie even though she didn't live in the Tampa Bay area! I was encouraged by my Tampa Bay friends to send in a proposal for the Florida Storytelling Camp; and did so with Judith, another friend by chance.  Our proposal was accepted.  MyLinda was camp director (which means she was the producer).

Then I moved back to Colorado, and so did my son and his family!  The following November, MyLinda posted on Facebook an announcement of her Chocolate Festival which she holds the Saturday after Thanksgiving.  And someone named Ann said she wished she could come but was living in Denver now.

My mind started ruminating: How do I not know this storyteller named Ann who lives in Denver?  I thought I knew most of the Denver storytellers.  Who is she?

Well there was only one way to discover the answers to my questions – ask!  So I did.  I sent a message to Ann, storyteller in Denver.  She answered my questions.  We continued our Facebook chatting and then became friends through Facebook.  In February when I was in Denver (again to care for my grandson), Ann and I decided to meet for lunch.  We took an instant liking to each other!  Ann joined Rocky Mountain Storytelling and actually helped out with the registration that spring which she continues to do. 

Annie and I exchange cards, stories, emails, phone calls.  I've stayed at her house.  We love each other and the wonderful things we've been able to accomplish. 

Here’s to Friendship by Chance!

D is for Dads

Daddies are little girls’ first love.  I’ve found stories about Fathers that I have used for Father’s Day programs on my radio show, but the Dad stories I love most are the ones I tell about my own dad – my first love.

Most of these stories aren’t even about my dad and me; they are about my dad as a youngster.  For instance Dad won a horse when he was eight.  Well a pony – a mean Shetland pony named Fannie Mae (yep, you read that right).  But Fannie Mae was pregnant and so my dad also won Stormy who was more like a big dog that a Shetland pony.  Stormy stayed with dad’s family for a year and a half until Dad was too big to ride him, then he was sold to a man who wanted a pony for his little boy.  Dad, at 9, was in on the transaction.

Or there’s the story about the first “Got Milk?” picture.  Yes, my grandfather came up with the picture idea – not the slogan.  He hired a photographer to come and take pictures of his children drinking milk as an advertising campaign for his dairy.  As my aunt told the story, they had to drink milk and grin all afternoon.  Dad looks like he might have been in kindergarten or first grade, his shock of unruly straight black hair stood straight up from his head, thus earning him the nickname Fritz – from the Katz ‘n’ Jammer Kids comic strip.

Stories about our parents become more poignant as we age and our parents leave us.  My dad, my first love, left early – he was only 60.  But he lives on in the stories I tell about him and his adventures as a child.

 

Tale of a Mouse's Foot Continued

In June I posted the follwoing:

"Last month, after I heard a mouse escaping from a trap we had set, I posted a Facebook comment about it.  Beginning below is the resulting story.  It is a rough draft, not finished yet. But for those who helped me write the story by commenting on my post, I present this as is.  Please let me know what you think.  How can I make it better?  If you who commented before do not see your piece of the story, it is coming next time."

This is next time!

 

A Tale of a Mouse’s Foot (Part 2)

 

 

          Above their heads, the Cats, Comet and Shadow were planning a party to which they texted a message to their friend Quandary who lived far away: “Dinner Party – Informal Dress – Menu: Mouse Pate” Quandary texted back: “Mouse Pate? Drool… I’ll be there even if I have to drag L along!”

Part 2

Shadow and Comet

           But before the Cats, Comet and Shadow, could even finish looking for Mouse Pate recipes in the cookbooks scattered across the floor there was a snap in the drawer!             “Another one!” purred Shadow.

          “Murow,” replied Comet flicking his tongue across his lips.  “Start texting again.”

          The collection of mice had grown fairly large.  The Cats were keeping them on ice so as not to stink up the house.  They did not want to live outside and knew when they had it made.  Finally they located a recipe in an obscure little cookbook that was shaped like a mouse.

          “After boiling for 10 minutes, skin, debone and mash 12 mice,” the recipe stated.  The Cats started banging pots and pans about in order to find just the right one.  “Do we have enough mice?” Comet asked.

          “Let me check,” Shadow said as she climbed into the freezer and started counting. “One, two, three, four, five, six… NO.”

          “Maybe we could supplement with fish.  There are fish in there too, aren’t there?”

          “Or we could serve two dishes.  First Course: Mouse Pate; Second Course: Fried Fish; with ice cream for dessert!  Yummmmmm!”

          “Let’s set a date and see if Quandary can make it,” suggested Comet.  “Maybe by that time we’ll have gotten some more mice.”

          Looking at the calendar hanging on the side of the fridge, the Cats chose two possible dates in mid fall and texted Q.  To which he replied, “The earlier the better, drool : b”

Quandary

 

          But as the late summer leaves began to change color and the evenings had a decided chill in the air, no more mice ventured into the drawer.  “Where’d they all go?” the Cats asked one another.

          One evening while perched on the chair reading over the Two-legged’s shoulder, Shadow discovered where all the mice had gotten themselves off to.  That night she explained to Comet, “Those fool mice hitched-hiked all the way to New York state!”

          “How do you know?”

          “They found their way to Bear’s house.  And were caught sleeping in her bed!  I saw it on Facebook.”

          “Then of course it’s true,” stated Comet matter-of-factly.  “We’ll have to make do with the six we already have.  Too bad because both Q and I love to eat.”

          Quandary and L finally made the pilgrimage south and the three Cats had a fine dinner of Mouse Pate, Fried Fish and Ice Cream for dessert while the Two-leggeds went off to enjoy stories at the TaosStorytelling Festival.

"A Tale of a Mouse's Foot" in the Making

Last month, after I heard a mouse escaping from a trap we had set, I posted a Facebook comment about it.  Beginning below is the resulting story.  It is a rough draft, not finished yet. But for those who helped me write the story by commenting on my post, I present this as is.  Please let me know what you think.  How can I make it better?  If you who commented before do not see your piece of the story, it is coming next time.

A Tale of a Mouse’s Foot

How Big, How Strong does a mouse have to be to pull a mousetrap up and out of a drawer and drop into the space below before escaping on three feet? Well, let me tell you all about it.

          To get away from the wind a cold, Father and Mother Mouse decided to squeeze into a cozy area just under the Big House.  “This will be the perfect place to set up housekeeping,” exclaimed Mother as she waddled about.

          “I’ll begin making a cozy nest right away so you can rest,” replied Father as he scurried around looking for bits of this and that.

          “I hope there are no cats around,” worried Mother.  “It would be nice to not have to worry about being caught as we forage for food.”

          “When we run out of the seeds I brought with us, I’ll go scout around at night.  It will be safer under cover of darkness,” Father offered.

          A few days later Father ventured forth, climbing up into a drawer lined with soft cloths.  “Ahhh,” he said, marking his territory.  “These may come in handy.  I wish I would’ve known they were here when I was building the nest.  Oh well, future reference and all that.”

          Father climbed over the side of the drawer and into a cupboard full of cleaning supplies.  “Not much here,” he commented sourly.

          On he went into the adjoining cupboard where there were a few crumbs to be had.  “Enough for tonight,” he commented as he retraced his steps with a mouthful of crumbs.

          The next two nights foraging wasn’t much better.  “These Two-leggeds are way too clean,” he complained to Mother when he returned with a pittance of crumbs.  “You need more food after all you are eating for many.”

          That night Mother Mouse welcomed their new young into the cozy nest.  Father was very proud of the brood; but worried about food, he left on another foraging trip without any more success than earlier in the night.  He didn’t tell Mother he had smelled Cat.

          The next few days proved difficult indeed.  Father, left the cozy area under the Big House and went foraging elsewhere, but the wind always drove him back before he had found much food.  “Poor, Mother,” he worried.  “What, oh, what can I do to ease her hunger pangs.  She has all those mouths to feed.  Oh, dear, oh dear…”

          Finally Father decided to go through the drawer again, which proved to be a decidedly wrong decision.  As Father stepped into the drawer, he noted the soft cloths were gone but saw there in front of him the biggest piece of cheese he had ever seen.  “This is more like it!” he muttered going for the cheese which proved to be fake.  “OUCH!” he screamed and something hit his foot.

          It was a metal bar that had caught his foot and held it tight.  Excruciating pain shot up through his leg.  Using his front feet and his one good back foot, Father crawled to the edge of the drawer.  He was being too noisy, he knew.  The strong smell of Cat just on the other side of the drawer drove him onward.  Up over the edge banging the trap as he climbed.  Something banged on the drawer and Father smelled a Two-legged.  He panicked and in that moment went hurtling over the side of the drawer into the space below.  As he landed the metal bar released the tiniest bit and Father escaped leaving behind his toes and a pool of blood.

          As Mother nursed his poor damaged foot, he wondered aloud, “Do you think I could write a story and become famous like the one we saw in that book we used a while back to make a nest in the other building?”

          “What book?” Mother looked up from washing his mangled foot.

          “Ouch.  Umm, please could you be a little gentler?”

          “We have to get it clean!” scolded Mother.  “Think about that book to take your mind off the pain.”

          “Oh right.  I think it was called something like Between a Rock and Hard Place or something like that.”

          “Oh that one,” stated Mother.  “It did make a good nest.  It was big enough to just snuggle right down inside once you chewed out a good place.  Did you actually read some of it?”

          “Yes,” admitted Father.  “That Two-legged who wrote it, Aron Ralston, he cut off his arm to save himself.  It was a cliff hanger.  I wonder if I could tell the story of my narrow escape and have a movie made about me?  Other mice have starred in films!”

          “Don’t be silly.  We have more important things to do like feeding our children!  With you in no condition to go look for food, I’ll go see if my brother can help us out.  You mind the children!”  And with that Mother slide through the opening into the blustery night.

          When she returned she had good news!  “My brother says he found a wonderful source of food in the other building, he’ll bring us some tomorrow night.  Brrr, it’s cold out there!” she snuggled up against Father as warmth seeped back into her delicate bones.

          Brother Mouse brought some food the next night and suggested, “Go looking for some little sticks you can use to fix up his foot.  Most Two-leggeds have some lying around.”

          “Good idea!” pronounced Father.  “Why don’t you two go see if you can find some while I watch the youngsters?  Just don’t try to get any of the monster cheese!”

          So off went Mother and Brother in search of sticks the Two-leggeds call toothpicks.

          A few days later, Brother didn’t show up with food.  “Oh no,” sighed Mother.  “I wonder what happened to him.  We must listen to see if we can learn anything from the Two-leggeds.”

          All day the mice listened carefully every time they heard the Two-leggeds conversing.  Laughing, one of the Two-leggeds said, “Another piece of the Mystery of the Mice.  But this one had all its toes.  I think it might have been stealing the birds’ food to help the injured mouse.”

          “Do mice have Mousey Hospitals?” asked another voice.  “Maybe the injured one is there learning to use his artificial limb made from toothpicks!  Ha, ha, ha!  Let’s check and see if any toothpicks missing?”

          “How do they figure these things out,” asked Father.

          “I don’t know,” sighed Mother.  “But it sounds as if Brother won’t be bringing us anymore of those seeds.  Maybe it wasn’t such a good idea to make our home here.”

          Above their heads, the Cats, Comet and Shadow were planning a party to which they texted a message to their friend Quandary who lived far away: “Dinner Party – Informal Dress – Menu: Mouse Pate” Quandary texted back: “Mouse Pate? Drool… I’ll be there even if I have to drag L along!”