The lodgers returned to their own homes. The hibernators emerged from their secret places. Roz roamed across the island and checked in with the beavers and the bears and all the friends she’d missed. Then the robot went home to work in her garden. After the bitterest winter anyone could recall, life was slowly returning to normal.
However, it was a quiet spring. There were fewer insects buzzing, fewer birds singing, fewer rodents rustling. Many creatures had frozen to death over the winter. And as the last of the snow melted away, their corpses were slowly revealed. The wilderness really can be ugly sometimes. But from that ugliness came beauty. You see, those poor dead creatures returned to the earth, their bodies nourished the soil, and they helped create the most dazzling spring bloom the island had ever known.
CHAPTER 60 THE FISH
“Help! Help! He’s got my tail!” Paddler was splashing and screaming in the pond. Mr. and Mrs. Beaver were nowhere to be seen, so Roz picked up a fallen tree branch and stomped into the shallows.
“Grab on to this!” she said as she reached out with the branch. Paddler grabbed it with his big teeth, and the robot lifted him up out of the water. And there, hanging from the young beaver’s tail, was Rockmouth, the grumpy old pike. In one quick movement, Roz pulled in the branch and gripped the fish with her two hands. Paddler flopped into the water, where his parents suddenly appeared.
“What is wrong with you, Rockmouth?” Mrs. Beaver dragged her son away. “You’ve always been a nuisance, but this time you’ve gone too far! Do us all a favor, Roz, and toss him to the vultures!”
“I cannot do that,” said the robot. “But I might be able to help.”
Roz placed Rockmouth in a deep puddle near the pond where he couldn’t swim away. Then she waited for the fish to explain himself. Fish aren’t very talkative, especially grumpy fish like Rockmouth. But eventually he opened up to the robot, and before long she was waving for the beavers to join them.
“Rockmouth used to live in the river,” said Roz as the beavers shuffled over. “But you trapped him here when you built your dam. He has been angry about it ever since.”
“That doesn’t give him the right to attack my son!” hollered Mr. Beaver.
“It most certainly does not!” hollered Mrs. Beaver.
“I’d be upset too,” said Paddler softly. “I’d hate to be kept away from my home. Mr. Rockmouth, you should have said something sooner!”
The fish looked up from the puddle with a frustrated expression that meant “I tried, but no one was listening.”
Well, the situation had to be remedied. And you can guess who rose to the occasion. Roz was determined to get Rockmouth back to his home. After she explored the nearby waterways, it became clear that she would have to carry the pike through the forest and across the Great Meadow to the nearest bend in the river.
“I need a large container,” said Roz to the beavers. “Something I can fill with water so Rockmouth can breathe while I carry him home. I could make it myself, but I thought you might like to help.”
It couldn’t have been easy to overcome her anger with Rockmouth, but after Mrs. Beaver had a chance to cool off, she finally came around. “I suppose we’re partly to blame for this whole situation,” she muttered. Then the beavers did the right thing, and together they carved out a wooden barrel for the fish.
“Here you go.” Mrs. Beaver rolled the barrel over to the puddle, where the robot and the fish were waiting. “This should work nicely. Rockmouth, I hope you’re happy back in the river.”
Rockmouth just flicked his tail in a way that meant “Will someone please take me home now!”
Roz filled the barrel with water and a grumpy fish, and then they were off. She carried Rockmouth through the forest and across the meadow until she was standing on the riverbank.
“Welcome home,” said the robot. Then she tipped the barrel and the fish plunked into the river. Rockmouth’s face poked above the surface, he flashed a big toothy grin, and then he quickly swam away.
CHAPTER 61 THE ROBOT STORIES
The story of how Roz helped Rockmouth spread through the river and across the island. And it was soon followed by other robot stories. There were stories of Roz growing gardens in dry, barren places. There were stories of Roz nursing sick animals back to health. There were stories of Roz creating ropes and wheels and tools for helping her friends. But most of the new stories were about the robot’s wildness.
You see, Roz had noticed that the wilder she acted, the more the animals liked her. And so she barked with foxes and sang with birds and hissed with snakes. She romped with weasels. She sunbathed with lizards. She leaped with deer. That spring was a very wild time for our robot.
CHAPTER 62 THE RETURN
It was a quiet afternoon on the pond. But the quiet was gradually being overtaken by sounds not heard around there for many months. The sounds grew louder and louder, and then a flock of geese appeared above the trees.
Honk! Honk! Honk!
Most flocks of geese move lazily through the sky and trail off in wobbly lines. But not this one. This flock was fast. It flew in a perfect V formation. And it was led by a small, graceful goose.
The flock flew once around the pond before gliding down and gently splashing into the water. The geese gathered in a tight group in the middle of the pond. They floated there for a while, softly honking to one another. And then the leader broke away from the others. He swam straight toward the Nest, waddled into the garden, and fluttered up to his mother’s shoulder.
“Welcome home, son,” said Roz.
“It’s good to be back, Ma,” said Brightbill.
CHAPTER 63 THE JOURNEY
After months of separation, Roz and Brightbill, mother and son, were together again. And they had so much catching up to do. They went into the Nest, and the robot built a fire. Then the goose gazed into the flames and told the story of his winter. This is what he said.
“We spent the whole first day of our migration flying over the ocean. It seemed like the ocean would go on forever, but just when the flock was getting tired, Longneck pointed to some tiny islands on the horizon. We flew down to one of the islands and ate dune grass and rested our wings. After a few days of hopping from island to island, we reached the mainland and continued over fields and forests. And then the snow began to fall.
“I’d never seen snow before, and at first I thought it was beautiful! But it just kept coming. The others explained that the snow was early, that we were never supposed to see it, but there it was, piling up around us as we tried to sleep at night. Longneck worried that the weakest geese wouldn’t survive, and he was right. We lost old Widefoot to that very first snowstorm.
“We tried to fly around the snowy weather, but we got completely lost and the weather became even worse. Lakes and ponds and rivers began freezing over. We couldn’t find food or water, so we ate snow, and that only made us colder. We had trouble cleaning ourselves, and our feathers became dirty and heavy. The flock was in bad shape. But Longneck kept us moving. ‘We are geese,’ he squawked, ‘and geese keep going!’
“One day, we were struggling through a snow shower when we saw something called a farm. It had perfectly square fields and enormous buildings. And stomping her way through the farm was a robot! She looked just like you, Ma!