Chitchat looked down from a branch and chattered through the quiet moments. “This reminds me of the time I saw a fox catch a lizard by the tail and somehow the lizard’s tail fell off and he got away and later I saw that the lizard got a new tail and now Roz is going to get a new foot and everything will be fine…”
The wooden foot took shape, and before long Mr. Beaver was standing beside a beautiful carving that resembled a boot. He tried to slide it over Roz’s stump, but the opening was too small. So he scraped out more wood until it was a perfect fit.
“Very good,” he said, spitting out a wood chip. “My friends should be arriving any minute with the next few things we’ll need. And there they are now! I’d like you all to meet Bumpkin, Lumpkin, and Rumpkin. But I call them the Fuzzy Bandits.”
Three fat raccoons shuffled into the garden, dragging a tangle of vines behind them.
“Good day,” said Bumpkin.
“Good day,” said Lumpkin.
“Good day,” said Rumpkin.
You might already know this, reader, but raccoons have very nimble hands. And the Fuzzy Bandits used theirs to skillfully tie those vines around the robot’s leg and around her new foot. The vines caught nicely on all the dings and dents and scrapes. Once they were tied good and tight, Mr. Beaver threw back his head and hollered, “Trunktap! We could use your assistance!”
There was silence.
And then three quick taps echoed down from the forest canopy.
“Ah, that’ll be him,” said Mr. Beaver, smiling.
A very handsome woodpecker swooped into the garden. “You called?” came the woodpecker’s musical voice.
“Indeed I did! Everyone, this is my wood-pecking pal, Trunktap. Now, Trunky, we need some tree resin, the really sticky stuff. Can you help us out?”
“Of course I can!” said the woodpecker. “You’ve got a perfect pine right here!”
Trunktap hopped over to a crusty old pine tree and pecked a few deep holes in the bark. Thick, syrupy resin began oozing down the trunk. Mr. Beaver scooped up handfuls of the resin and smeared it all over the wooden foot and the vines until everything was glistening with stickiness. And when the resin dried a short time later, Roz’s foot was finished.
“This is wonderful!” said the robot as she strolled around her garden. “I am as good as new!”
Mr. Beaver and Trunktap and the Fuzzy Bandits went away feeling pretty happy with themselves. They’d done a very nice thing. But it was the first wooden foot any of them had ever made. And within a week the vines were coming undone and the foot was sliding loose. So they returned, determined to get it right. They found even harder wood and even tougher vines. They experimented with resin, heating it by the fire, letting it boil and thicken, until it became an indestructible glue. They kept tinkering with their design until, finally, Roz had herself a wooden foot that she could rely on.
“Huzzah!” Mr. Beaver rapped his knuckles on the new-and-improved creation. “I knew we’d get it right.”
Roz moved slower than before, and she had a slight limp, but she was back to her old self again, and that was a relief to everyone, especially Brightbill.
CHAPTER 49 THE FLIER
With coaching from his mother, Brightbill was becoming a truly exceptional flier. He wasn’t the biggest or the strongest, but he was the smartest. You see, he and his mother had started studying the flying techniques of other birds. They’d sit for hours and watch how hawks and owls and sparrows and vultures moved through the air. Then they’d go up to the grassy ridge and Brightbill would practice what he’d learned. Soon, he was diving and swooping and darting and soaring around the island. The adult geese frowned at his flying tricks, but the goslings thought he was amazing.
Each morning, a gaggle of them would wait on the water for Brightbill to lead them into the sky. And then a few hours later he’d return home to Roz, shaking his tail feathers and honking about his latest airborne adventures.
“Mama! The other goslings didn’t know that warm air rises. So I found an updraft and we spent the afternoon circling around and around and hardly flapped our wings at all!”
“Mama! Did you see that lightning storm today? We knew there was trouble when the wind started blowing from the north, so we flew down to some shrubs and waited for the storm to pass.”
“Mama! We just tried to fly in formation! We all took turns at the point, but everyone liked following me the best, so I led most of the time.”
CHAPTER 50 THE BUTTON
Brightbill was thinking about the small button on the back of his mother’s head. His mother was thinking about it too. They couldn’t stop wondering what would happen if the button were pressed. And one day, they decided it was time to find out.
Roz sat on the floor of the Nest. Her son nervously stood on a stone behind her.
“I am ready when you are,” said the robot.
“Okay,” said the gosling. “Here we go.”
Brightbill took a deep breath.
Click.
Roz’s body relaxed.
Her quiet whirring slowly stopped.
Her eyes faded to black.
“Mama, can you hear me?”
There was no answer. Brightbill waddled around and looked at his mother’s face. Her strange spark of life had gone out. The gosling had never felt more alone.
He was ready to switch her back on. But what if she didn’t wake up? What if she woke up different? The gosling was afraid to press the button, and he was afraid not to press the button.
Brightbill took a deep breath.
Click.
Roz’s body tensed.
Her quiet whirring slowly started.
Her eyes began to glow.
“Mama, can you hear me?”
“Hello, I am ROZZUM unit 7134, but you may call me Roz.” The robot spoke these words automatically, in a language Brightbill didn’t understand. His little heart raced as his worst fears seemed to be coming true. But a moment later, her familiar voice returned, and the robot said in the language of the animals, “Hello, son. How long was I out? It seemed like only an instant to me.”
“You were out for a few minutes,” said the gosling as he hugged his mother. “But it seemed like forever to me.”
CHAPTER 51 THE AUTUMN
The days were getting shorter. The air was getting crisper. And one morning, Roz walked out to find a layer of frost on the garden. Autumn had come to the island.
The tree leaves, which had been green for the robot’s entire life, turned yellow and orange and red. Then they let go of their branches and floated down to the ground, and the forest gradually filled with the sounds of creatures scurrying through dead leaves. Tree nuts were also falling, thunking onto roots and rocks and occasionally clanging off the robot. The smell of flowers faded as blossoms withered. All the rich scents and colors of the island were draining away.
The animals were also changing. Furry animals were growing more fur. Feathery animals were growing more feathers. Scaly animals were starting to look for new homes.
“Yurp. It’s cooling off,” croaked one frog to another. “Before long it’ll be time for sleeping.”
“Yurp. I’d better start looking for a good hole,” croaked the second frog. “Have you found one yet?”
“Nah,” croaked the first frog. “I’ll look for a hole next week. For now, I’m going to enjoy the warm sunlight while it lasts. Yurp.”
Many of the island animals were already thinking about their winter hibernation. Frogs, bees, snakes, and even bears would soon disappear and spend the next few months resting out of sight.
And then there were the birds. Some birds, like owls and woodpeckers, would spend the winter nesting and eating the island’s few remaining edibles. But the migratory birds were preparing for the long journey south to their warm wintering grounds. And among the birds destined to leave were the geese.