“H-o-o-o-t!” rang out a voice from somewhere way up high in a pine tree. “As far as doing something wrong, well you sure got that right. For starters, you never should have gone out on such a long walk without permission from your parents. And that goes for both of you,” the voice scolded. “You must have known that your parents would get very worried and upset! Well, anyway, let’s get acquainted.”
The invisible speaker flew noisily down to a lower branch.
“My name is Michelle,” said the girl, who was the first one to collect herself. “And this is my friend Snoutie. We have been searching the forest for a magical white flower…”
“I am Owl. The forest creatures call me Wise Old Owl, and it’s true that I have seen quite a bit in my time. And it’s safe to say I know everything there is to know about the Big Forest. For example, I know that you are good and kind creatures, and that you saved Little Squirrel. I will always be happy to see you in our forest, and I think that you will have many friends here. But now you must go home. H-o-o-o-t!” And Owl disappeared.
Snoutie and Michelle understood that their trip was coming to an end and that they would be home that night. The rising moon brightly lit up all the forest paths, and its light guided the young friends to an opening in the trees. Snoutie and Michelle hurried in that direction. Soon they came out to the edge of the Big Forest, right next to the familiar green hill they had left behind that morning when they set off on their trip.
* * *
One fall evening, after dinner, when Michelle had grown bored of watching the wet leaves spin in the wind as dusk set in, she went to see her Daddy in his office. Daddy was sitting at a wide table, leaning back in a dark-green leather chair, and reading a big, fat book. When he saw Michelle, Daddy smiled, set aside the book, and cleared a place on the table. Michelle climbed up, got comfy, and started swinging her legs, letting her slippers knock against the oak panels of the table.
“Daddy, you’re probably quite busy?” asked Michelle sweetly.
“Not very, I don’t think,” answered Daddy. “In fact, I’m quite sure of it.”
“Well, that’s great, then,” said Michelle. “Please tell me my favorite story about Snoutie.”
“About Snoutie?” Daddy asked.
“Yes. You do remember Snoutie, don’t you? He’s a little funny-looking, but very good and kind,” answered Michelle. “He and I are best friends.”
“Yes, now lots of children know who Snoutie is, and they write him letters,” said Daddy. “Snoutie sometimes drops in for a visit, and I let him sit in my chair at the table and read those letters.”
“He’s an Incredible Snoutie!” cried Michelle.
“I have no doubt about it,” said Daddy.
And Daddy began telling Michelle about Snoutie again.
“As you will remember, Snoutie and Michelle once did some traveling in the Big Forest,” said Daddy. “I would even say they did quite a bit of traveling for such little travelers.”
“Of course I remember,” nodded Michelle. “That was where they met so many friends. Tell me what happened next, Daddy.”
“I’ll try,” said Daddy.
And he did.
CHAPTER TWO,
IN WHICH SNOUTIE VISITS FRIENDS, GOOSE BECOMES A CEREMONIAL GIFT, AND MICHELLE HOSTS A CELEBRATION
One day, late in the morning (for some reason our hero’s mornings always started late) and after a filling breakfast, Snoutie was walking around his room trying to catch spots of sunlight. Then he grabbed his wicker basket for collecting grapes and happily set out for the garden. He was in a wonderful mood, and it was at such times that he did a very good job writing short, simple songs, which he loved to hum under his breath. At that moment he was whistling one of those tunes:
I love to water the ground,
I love to write a round,
I love to store up goods,
I love to walk in the woods,
But what I love most of all
Is a breakfast that is not too small!
Before Snoutie could finish his song, he heard someone ring the bell at the gate.
“Who could that be?” thought Snoutie, heading to the fence. “It is Tuesday, and people don’t usually come calling on Tuesday mornings.”
“Tele-ga-ga-ga-gram!” honked a voice from the other side of the fence.
“Well, what do you know? It’s Goose, our postman,” said Snoutie, who recognized that voice right away. He opened the gate.
“A telegram for me?” he asked happily, setting the basket full of grapes on the grass. “Good day, Goose! Come in, please,” said Snoutie, but then he felt worried and thought that something might be wrong. After all, it wasn’t that often that he received a telegram.
“Yes, well, I mean no. It’s not exactly a telegram,” answered Goose importantly.
“What do you mean?” asked Snoutie, wiggling his snunk in confusion.
“It’s for you, yes, but it’s not a telegram, it’s an invitation. It’s just that the word ‘telegram’ sounds much more important,” explained Goose.
Here it should be noted that Goose was not just a postman, but a very important postman. He loved Serious Words, Important Words, and Unusual Words (or at least words that seemed that way to him). And when he pronounced them, he felt like an Educated Goose and a Scholarly Goose.
“Look, Goose,” said Snoutie, shaking his snunk. “This invitation was sent only yesterday and I have already received it today! It’s a miracle!”
“It’s called ga-ga-ga-lobalization,” pronounced Goose importantly. “Or, rather, glo-ba-li-za-tion!” he honked as if he were a professor, and he raised his right wing, pointing somewhere up into the sky, perhaps at his fellow geese flying overhead.
Snoutie looked respectfully at Goose and then at the other geese. He understood absolutely nothing, but he didn’t want to ask what the word “globalization” meant; he did not want to show that he didn’t know the meaning of such an Important Word, and he also didn’t want to offend Goose, even by accident.
Everyone knew that Goose was a very sensitive creature, and that even cloudy weather put him in a sad mood. At such moments he would pick up a large, white quill pen (which, as you might guess, was not hard for him to do) and start working on his Goosey Ode. For some reason, though, this Ode never moved beyond the same first line:
“Ga-ga, ga-ga-ga, ga-ga-ga, ga-ga-ga,” Goose would honk dreamily, looking off into the distance.
And he usually never got any further than that. But this didn’t bother Goose in the least. On the contrary, this exercise allowed him to think of himself not only as an Educated Goose and a Scholarly Goose, but also as a Creative Goose and a Poetic Goose.
Nevertheless, Goose still wanted very much to complete his Ode and read it around a table at the Big Forest’s famous restaurant Chez Royal Chef Rabbit. He imagined his friends gathering for this solemn occasion to enjoy the Ode’s poetic contents and flowery language, as well as its elegant, goosey style.
Snoutie turned the invitation over in his hands and then, embarrassed, handed it to Goose. You see, even though Snoutie had learned how to read a long time before, he preferred it when his Mama and Papa read aloud to him while he studied the pictures in the books. But since he wasn’t a little Snoutie anymore, he really didn’t want to admit that he didn’t like to read on his own.
“The sun is shining so brightly today,” he mumbled, “that I can’t even make out the letters. I’ve spent the whole day catching spots of sunlight, and now all I can see are spots before my eyes.”
“Michelle is inviting you over for lunch today,” announced Goose solemnly, as he read over the invitation slowly. He was pleased to have the chance to show off his literary abilities.
“Oh, that’s wonderful,” squealed Snoutie happily. “It will be very nice to see Michelle again. And if I remember correctly, Michelle’s mother makes a very delicious and sweet-smelling sorrel soup. I hope they serve it today, along with my favorite fried corn fritters and cheese!”