NC2 - Bucky Beaver (standard:adventure, 1939 words)
Author: hvysmker	Added: Jun 10 2005	Views/Reads: 3666/2279	Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
A young beaver grows up, just a little, maybe, I think.

“Bucky, Bucky Beaver, you get back in here now, time for supper,” Thelma
Beaver cried.  His mother had a nice meal of scorched birch bark with a 
side of leafy greens ready for the evening meal.  Seeing her son 
looking at her, Thelma went back to shredding a little coconut on top 
of the greens.  Coconut had to be imported to Ohio but it kept well, 
and only a little needed to be used at a time to flavor the meal. 

She turned to the dining room table where Grandpa Elmer already sat. 
His teeth were going and she had to pre-chew his food for him.  Poor 
Grandpa also had a sore jaw from biting into a spike.  It had bothered 
him for years, ever since some nasty environmentalists spiked a tree he 
was cutting.  Grandpa Elmer hated those humans.  They just made trouble 
for him.  When he was a kid he got along well with the lumbermen.  He 
left them alone and they left him treetops and scraps of lumber to drag 
home. 

Now, with controlled cutting, the humans used almost every scrap of wood
they cut.  A poor beaver had to do all his own chewing.  The hated 
environmentalists would drive heavy spikes into trees, causing human 
saws to spin out of control.  When a beaver bit into them they could 
lose their teeth like poor Joseph his son.  Unable to even chew tree 
trunks, Joseph had to do housework, like sweeping floors, and stuffing 
holes in the family dam. 

“Mama, mama,” Bucky came running in to sit down at the table.  He was
bouncing with excitement, which could only lead to trouble, Thelma 
thought.  Sighing in resignation, she waited for him come out with it. 
“Mama.  Can I go over to Sammy's tonight, huh, can I?” 

“And what's going on over at Sammy's tonight, not those girls again?” 

“No.  Mama.  I'm not interested in icky girls.  Sammy's daddy sold some
wood to a human, the old one up in the hills, and got some human stuff 
for it.  I wanna see what they got.” 

“Things humans use can be dangerous.”  Grandpa Elmer cautioned them,
holding his damaged mouth open, “beffer ou' eav' ‘un lone.”  He was 
serious but it made the other two laugh. 

“Close you mouth when you talk, Elmer.”  Thelma laughed.  The old human
in the hills was a hermit.  Sometimes he bought wood off of Beavers to 
use in the wintertime.  He would trade old human items, like rusty 
knives, for the product.  Sometimes the things were useful, but often 
only shiny with no use whatsoever.  Thelma herself had a cooking pot 
she used to fix hot vegetables.  It was made by a human. 

“I guess so, Bucky.  Just don't get hurt, don't be late getting home,
and for God's sake stay out of trouble.” 

“I won't, Mama.”  He replied, meaning he wouldn't do as she said. 

“I mean it, Bucky.  Promise you'll do like I told you.”  She was one up
on the youngster. 

“Aw, ma.  I don't even know what we'll be doing yet, how can I promise
anything?” He pleaded. 

“No problem then, just stay home.”  She started setting plates on the
table. 

“All right, all right, I promise.” 

“What do you promise?” 

“Uh, I promise not to get into trouble, be back tonight sometime, and
I'll try not to get hurt, Okay?” 

“Back tonight some time?”  Thelma was again ready for him, “how about
before ten o'clock?  That sound about right?” 

“Alright, ma.  I'll be back around ten tonight.”  She was silent,
pondering the answer.  Hell, let him win a little bit, she decided.  
Thelma went out to get her husband Thomas and son Joseph.  Thomas was a 
hard worker and insisted on only stopping at the last possible moment.  
Turning back to Bucky, Thelma continued. 


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