Parktails - Douglas G. Campbell

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continued writing furiously. I went straight back to Zornova’s office and laid the messages out carefully in the order that they had arrived. Oh, but they were such a mess of scribbles. This will never do, I said to myself, I must make up a memo about penanimalship for the office staff. Really there is no excuse for such messy writing. As I was mentally composing my memo on penanimalship I hurried back out of the headquarters building, across the open yard in front of the district headquarters towards Rittiticket’s tree stump.

      “Rittiticket, are you home? Rittiticket! Oh Rittiticket wake up and come out here!” I shouted down his hole as loudly as I could.

      Soon a grumpy, sleepy-eyed Rittiticket peered out into the bright, though quickly darkening, day

      “What’s the ruckus? What’s all this yelling and shouting about? I say Blinkers, you had best mind your manners or I’ll file a complaint. Just because you are district secretary—well you have no special rights,” he sputtered.

      “Rittiticket, do be quiet,” I snapped self-righteously. “This is an emergency. There is no time at all for complaints and making nasty faces like that. Zornova sent me to fetch you. You must come help Thimblewicket, for there is a great fire and she is being overwhelmed with dispatches; you should just see the awful scribbling she has sent Zornova. Really there is no excuse for such poor penanimalship.”

      But before I could finish all that I had to say Rittiticket had skittered past me, as fast as he could, towards the district headquarters. Meanwhile the sky had become blacker and ash was beginning to drift down from above. Deer, porcupines, bison, elk, ground squirrels, and others were engaged in a flurry of activity. Pudge, the marmot, was busy tying shovel attachments to the hooves of bison and elk. These bison and elk would attempt to dig a shallow trench to stop the fire. Deer were packed with top priority files from the ranger headquarters and sent on their way to a temporary headquarters. We had just learned that a wind shift had occurred; we were now directly in the path of the surging, uncoiling flames. Squirrels and jays were sent to hurry the evacuation of the immediate vicinity, to warn all of the forest dwellers that they must leave at once. Soon though, I was back at my desk writing messages that Zornova was dictating over the intercom.

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      Since all of the messages, in and out, went through me I was beginning to get a picture of how widespread the damage was. The fire was now engulfing three districts; at least twenty percent of Lake, Potholes, and Geyser districts were burning or already blackened. The weather forecast called for more wind towards evening, and we had not had rainfall for three weeks, except for that light drizzle the day of our committee meeting, so the prospect for a quick end to the fire was not good. Zornova worked swiftly and efficiently directing the evacuation of the dead and wounded; she provided instructions for fire fighting parties, and calmly provided leaders for those who must flee or be consumed by the inferno. Even now gusts of wind spread ashes and set dust devils swirling across the clearing outside the station. Thirty-four thousand acres had already been consumed.

      “Blinkers!” came through the intercom from Zornova’s offices. “The fire may soon reach us. It is time for us to pack up and leave. I have sent for Cawdor to lead the office staff safely away from the blaze. Blinkers, you and I have another task, so we will not be traveling with the rest of the office staff.”

      “Yes, Zornova,” I answered, knowing that this would undoubtedly involve more bison-back riding. I walked, as calmly as I could, from my office down the hall past other offices; I stopped at each office to ask all office staffers to assemble on the front porch. Once they were assembled, I announced that it was time to leave and that Cawdor would lead them to safety.

      Soon Thimblewicket, Rittiticket, Pudge, and others were moving quickly along the narrow trail leading westward towards Trout Lake. Cawdor flew above the fleeing office workers, cawing as he went to assure them that the way was clear. Zornova is such a good leader, she had remained calm and in control in spite of this horrendous calamity. There had been minimal panic because Zornova’s quiet strength gave everyone confidence and hope.

      Flames were now visible atop Marmot Ridge; they would soon engulf the ranger station here in Prairie Dog Vale. I was just about to fetch Zornova when she emerged through the doors.

      “Look Zornova,” I wailed, “the fire has reached the ridge top and it will soon be upon us.”

      Zornova ignored my fear. “Get back aboard, Blinkers,” she said calmly “I still need your help. Skeezer, Rutorina, and the other skunks in Dozema’s skaggle are traditionalists, so in spite of the fire they are stubbornly following their practice of silently mourning the deceased for two days. They are in immediate danger, and we are the only ones available to rescue them.

      I clamored up onto Zornova’s shaggy back. Skunks! Wouldn’t you just know they would pull something like this. Well, everyone knows that skunks are loyal and that they honor their dead by standing silently mourning the deceased for two days. They must also fast for these two days. Oh what shall we do I wondered, as we bounced towards Willow Meadow. I could not keep my eyes closed all the time now, for the smoke made me cough and sputter. We made it through Broken Fir Gap just ahead of the fire. Oh my goodness, we were heading directly towards the fire.

      “Oh Zornova,” I whined. “How shall we ever survive? You can’t just expect to trot through the fire unharmed.”

      “Be calm, Blinkers,” she answered, “we will drop downhill soon and follow Stonecrop Creek through the fire. But we must be quick, and we must hold our breaths through the worst of it. So be ready. And you must let me know if my fur catches on fire.

      Almost before I could catch my breath, Zornova turned and rushed down the steep slope towards Stonecrop Creek, jumping over fallen trees, swerving and weaving between trees and boulders. I felt some sympathy now for rodeo cowboys as I hung on tightly. Then Zornova shouted “Now!” I gulped in a lungful of air and held my breath. Soon my lungs felt like they would burst and my heart pounded vigorously as Zornova clattered over the rocks of Stonecrop Creek. Zornova stumbled and lurched forward, so I went flying over her neck and horns into the creek. Just as I struggled up onto her back a burning tree crashed into the streambed behind us, narrowly missing Zornova’s hind end. Steam and crackling engulfed us. But Zornova undeterred slogged forward through the shallows of Stonecrop Creek. Both of us were coughing and sputtering as we breathed in the smoke-filled air.

      Fortunately, we soon passed from the smoke and flames into the smoldering forest beyond, left charred and black from the fire. Zornova continued following the creek; although it was slow going we could avoid the worst of the smoke. Silence surrounded us. No bird song, no skittering of small feet through the leaves and litter interrupted the quiet. Only rock and barren tree trunks remained to guard our passage. Suddenly the silence was interrupted as a tree crashed down to our right as the roots gave way. After what seemed like an endless ride through the blackened forest, we left Stonecrop Creek, climbed up over Fir Cone Ridge, and headed down again into Willow Meadow. The flames had skipped the meadow, which remained green and normal. But at any moment smoldering embers might be dropped by the wind and the whole meadow could flare up and burn quickly. Skeezer, Rutorina, and seven other skunks could be seen on the far side of the meadow. As we drew closer we could hear their whistle-like chant.

      “Skeezer!” shouted Zornova, as we approached the skaggle of skunks.

      “Yes, Zornova, what is it,” answered Skeezer, obviously annoyed at the interruption of their sacred funeral rite.

      “You must all come at once or there will be nine more skunk funerals to attend. A huge fire is burning out of control, and you must all leave. You have been fortunate so far, as Willow Meadow has been spared, but that could change any moment,” said Zornova, with both authority and control.

      As Zornova spoke flames could be seen atop Fir Cone Ridge. The wind had shifted again and would drive the flames towards us. Smoke was already billowing towards us across the open meadow.

      “Oh, all right Zornova, but which way should we go?” answered Skeezer. Perhaps the approaching flames and billowing smoke had been more convincing than Zornova’s

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