It Was Just One Day by Clark Mahoney (top 10 novels .TXT) 📖

away, ashamed of herself for not helping the lizard. She’d been taught to help, but in that moment of crisis, all she had done was to fly away, to protect only herself, leaving him to face Badger alone.

She flew up to a low branch in the tree, lighted upon it, and looked down again to see Badger slowly ambling away, his hunger satiated, and a grin on his face. Oh, wicked Badger, she thought. How could you? How could you?

That’s when she noticed the other body part, forgotten by Badger, left alone. It was off to one side, lying there in a pile of leaves, still. Very still.

She knew what to do, what she had to do. She flew down to the torn carnage, and landed nearby. Mustering her courage, she began a prayer for the dead, to honor their life, to honor their contributions to others, and to honor their death.

She buzzed softly, her wings beating a melodious tune, quickly, then slowly, loudly, then softly, a tune she’d heard others perform for fallen bees. The chirping ceased. The twittering stopped. All critters nearby ended their nightly chatter, as Bee gave of herself to this fallen critter, a song of love, a song of life, and a song of hopes and dreams.

Silence greeted her when she finished. Tears once held back now began to flow, as the pain of what she saw gripped her so strongly. It just wasn’t fair, she thought. Why?

Then, she saw a movement, just a tiny movement, maybe of a claw, a twitching claw, on the carcass of the lizard. No, she must’ve imagined it, she thought. Dead critters don’t move.

Twitch. Twitch. There it was again.
 

Chapter 11

Lizard lay still. Not one leg moved. Not one claw. This was his only hope. Lie still, absolutely still, while the tail wiggled, attracting the attention of the beast.

His eyes closed, his body rigid, he heard the hungry attack of Badger, the grinding of teeth on tail, and the slow walk of this beast…away from here. Away. He waited, and waited, intent on continuing his ruse, and living. Ha, the old beast had fallen for his trick, the greatest trick each lizard has in his back of tricks.

As a little one, each lizard had been warned to avoid the hairy beasts. Stay away from them. Run from them. But, if bitten, then drop your tail. Let it do the wiggling while you remain absolutely still. He’d spent his whole life with that tail, never facing such a danger, until tonight. And, WOW! He’d done it. He’d survived at attack of the hairy beast. The other lizards would be so impressed with his story. Just wait until I tell them, he thought.

He could hear the buzzing of a flyer nearby. Slowly, he wiggled his toes, to make sure they still worked. Then, he wiggled his back legs, then front legs, then his snout. Opening his eyes, he saw a VERY surprised bee sitting right next to him. “Surprise,” he whispered.

Bee nearly fell over in shock. “What? What?” she stammered. “I, I thought that you were d-dead.”

“Well, as you can see, little buzzing flyer, I am most certainly NOT dead.”

“How? What? Explain, please.” she asked in complete confusion, unable to put words together into sentences.

And so, Lizard explained how lizards are born with a secret defense mechanism. Some critters have sharp teeth, to bite with. Others have stingers, to inject poison with. A few have very quick feet, and can run away from danger. And some, well, they fly away from attackers, off into the trees. The lizard drops its tail, to misdirect the predator, who sees it, and focuses its energy on the tail instead of the body of the lizard. Bye-bye tail, hello more days to live.

Bee was impressed. “Wow!” she exclaimed. “I, I thought that you were dead.”

“Ha! So did I,” breathed Lizard quietly. “So, now that we’ve gotten that settled, who are you, and what are you doing here, and what was that melodious tune I heard just a moment ago?”

Bee buzzed softly, thinking of how to begin. “Okay,” she started. She’d have to explain how things worked in a bee community.

“A life that is lived helping others, is a life worthwhile, and it should be praised, and honored, when it ends. Bees work for the good of the hive, not for themselves. They’re not selfish. They help others, feeding the young, building the hive, always thinking and doing for others. Some critters that live alone focus only on themselves. They look for food for themselves. They live by themselves. They never think of someone other than themselves. Not bees. We live with others, and take care of others. So, when one of us dies, we honor them for their unselfish work. When you died, or when I thought you died, I honored you with a song of praise and glory.”

Others, hearing her words, came out of hiding. A spider. A centipede. And a few others who’d not dared to speak up yet. Her words intrigued them.

Spider sat on his web, and guilt came over him, realizing that Bee was speaking of him. He lived alone. He ate alone. He never shared his dinner with anyone. He spent his entire life focusing only on his own wants, his own needs. Suddenly, he felt a bit of shame. When he died one day, what would others say about him? They’d say that he was a selfish, killing machine, and that’s it.

Centipede crawled out from under the leaf pile, guilt pushing at his conscience, wondering about her words. Was he selfish, or did he help others? He’d lived a long life, and was quite past his youth. Would others say that he was kind, helpful, or giving? Or not?

Lizard had not spoken with such a wise, and kind, critter…ever. Yes, he’d learned a lot from older lizards, about how to avoid danger, and how to find food, and which crawlers you should NOT eat. But, none had spoken of kindness to others. None had taught him to help others. Her words hurt him, as he stood next to her.

He turned, and walked off into the brush, his mind focused on answering that question. Did he help others?

Chapter 12

Distant coyotes began their lonely howling, calling to others to join the pack, or seeking a companion, for their nightly hunt. They could often be seen in pairs, or small groups, wandering the night, seeking hairy meals, mice, rats, moles, or lizards, if caught unawares.

Birds were settled in their nests, high above, in the trees, or hidden away on the surrounding cliffs, in nooks and crannies, safe from hungry predators, waiting for the sun to rise and the night hunters to seek refuge.

The night hunters were about, looking, listening, feeling, hungry for something to eat, while the moon crawled across the sky, sending its reflected light for those who walked about.

Spider sat on his web, waiting for dinner to fly accidentally into his trap.

Centipede snuggled in among the leaves, waiting for morning to arrive.

And Bee sat on a branch, moving slowly in the wind, observing it all. What was to become of her? She thought of tomorrow, and the rising sun, and what she would do.

Yesterday, she gathered pollen for the young ones at the hive, collecting it on her hind leg, in a large ball, at a spot with longer hairs. Yes, it made flight a bit unstable, but she‘d mastered this skill at a young age, and did it out of a deep commitment to helping the others in her hive, the wiggling larvae. Days and days of working for them, for them. That’s all she’d ever known. Well, she was not with her hive-mates tonight, and so she wondered what she might do tomorrow.

Maybe she could spend the morning seeking delicious nectar, probing with her long tongue, into the center of each flower. This was her primary source of food, and a tasty one at that. She could travel from flower to flower, lighting softly on each, and tasting, and enjoying, and doing something just for her. For her. Instead of doing for others, she might seek out her own happiness. It was easy, as so many flowers had markers, or colorful lines, showing the way.

Maybe, she thought, as she settled down, to rest, and relax, tomorrow would be about her.

 

Chapter 13

Dawn arrived. The light of the sun began to chase away the darkness. Little by little, the grays and shadows of the night began to disappear, and the reds, and blues, and greens, and yellows of the valley began to show themselves in the approaching light. Trees awakened in the gentle breeze, branches creaking, leaves waving. Flowers turned themselves toward the approaching sun, eager for warmth, and the life-giving power of light. Grass waved and sprung erect with the rising sun and life was ready for a new day.

And, so was Bee. Today would be a new day for her, a day in which she lived, truly lived.

She could feel the wind ruffling her sensitive hairs along her legs, her abdomen, her thorax. It felt good. She liked it, be it gentle, or powerful. Feeling the wind gave her a rush, a feeling that only flight could match. Buzz, buzz, she pushed and pulled the muscles that controlled her wings, and off into the air she flew, lifting her body, and finally, her hind legs from the branch. She was airborne.

Below her, she saw Spider, his web a mess, due to his nightly meals. And, farther away crawled Centipede, looking up at her, as he crawled out from beneath the leaves. “Good morning!” he called to her, as she sped off into the sky.

Faster and faster her wings beat, reaching almost 200 beats per second, carrying her upwards, past the lower tree branches, past the crown of the tree, up, up, above the valley and into the upper reaches, where hawks built their nests, along the edges of the canyon walls.

She was hungry, and longed for the delicious nectar found in the distant meadow. For many days, she had flown to this feeding ground, looking for the tasty delight. There were several varieties here, and she looked for one kind this morning, a blue flower, five petals, drawing her attention with its dark hues that only certain flyers could see. Where are they? Where are they? She flew over the tops of the sharp blades of grass, her legs dangling