Manley Attempts to Alter the Course of Events

Theobald floated near the bottom, despairing.  He was convinced now that he had been wrong to provoke the rats  He had been wrong not to have come to an accommodation when offered one by Ronald.  As much as he disdained rodents sniffing at his anus, he couldn’t spend his life hiding at the bottom of the pond.

He was anxious as he floated upward, breaking the surface gently, peering about.  He was only barely aware of the green scent of new life and ecstatic birdsong filling the warm evening air; it was the kind of Growing Time evening he once looked forward to.  As he glided to the bank, scrutinizing the undergrowth for rats, he almost jumped when Hogie Hedgehog said loudly, “Hi Theobald.  You heard about the merger?”

“What?”

“Rats and Weasels.”

Theobald tensed.  “What about them?”

“They’re merging.”

“Merging?”

“It can only mean anarchy.”

“I don’t understand.”

“What?”

“What you said.”

“About the merger?”

“Yes?”

“What about it?”

“What do you mean by merging?”

“That’s a good question,” said Hogie, perplexed.  “It might be a conspiracy or that sort of thing.  What do you think?”

Theobald frowned.  What did it mean?  Of course.  More animals to hate him.  He had underestimated Ronald.  “Are you sure about this?”

“Johny Jackrabbit wrote a song about it.”

“That doesn’t mean it’s true.”

“It doesn’t mean it’s not true.”

As Theobald floated to the pond’s far end, he could hear the high, rabbitty voice of Johny wafting from the meadow.

So right in the skin. 

                So right in the skull.

                Life in the Forest won’t be mundane or dull

                For weasels and rats who seek the same ends

                Marching as comrades, seeking justice for friends

                Their union will stand, never to fall

                As they fight for the right

                To sniff bums big and small

Theobald swam hard, taking refuge under the cover of new ferns.  He knew now he was completely alone.

“Theobald?” a voice said.

He pulled his head into his shell, and remained motionless.

“Theobald?  It’s me, Manley.”

“Manley?”  He peered out.  Standing on the bank was the mole he had met at the meeting.

“You’ve heard the news?”

Theobald nodded.

“Don’t worry.  We’ve decided to fight.”

“Who’s we?”

“Malcolm and me.  We’re going to talk to all the animals to make sure they understand what’s at stake.”

“No one will stand up to the Rats and the Weasels.”

“You’re wrong, many will.”

“Who?”

“Well, I will, for one.”

“And…?”

“Well, urh… Malcolm.”

“That’s two.”

“And Rollo Rat.”

“A rat?”

“Yes.  But he doesn’t like the Corporation.”

“He’s still a rat.”

“But he doesn’t think like a rat.”

“That’s only three.”

“And you, that’s four.  And if we can get four this quickly, imagine how many we can get once we really start organizing.”

Although touched by Manley’s gesture, he knew that few animals would vote against the Rats and the Weasels.  “So what do I do?”

“Stay hidden.  Once we’re organized, we’ll let you know.”

“Don’t feel you have to do this.”

Manley muttered, “I think you’re very brave.”

“…or stupid.”

“No.  It took a lot of courage for you to speak out.  And others will see that.”  Smiling encouragingly, Manley scurried off.

Theobald slowly started to dive.  He thought he felt a slight tremor of hope and  knew then he was doomed.  Hope was the final refuge of a fool.

*

All midovernoon Manley could hear Wilhemina frantically darting about the burrow.  He wondered why “Silly-willy”, as he secretly referred to her, was so agitated.  He needed to leave, to start organizing votes but was unable to gauge her mood.  “I’d like to leave early today.”

“What?” snapped Wilhemina.

“I’d like to leave early, if that’s okay.”

“Why?”

“Ahmm… “  What kind of lie should he tell her?  “I’m not feeling well.”

“You look fine to me.”

“My snout feels hot.”

“It doesn’t look hot.”

“It feels hot,” said Manley, touching it gingerly.

“You’ll have to make up the day.”

“Of course.”  He wanted to scream at her, “Silly, silly, Willy.”  Instead, he dashed from the Burrow, making straight for the pond, darting through the brambles near the shore, seeking out Beryl.  Along the shoreline near her lodge, however, he couldn’t pick up her scent.

He needed advice, but would she offer any?  Wouldn’t she let him do all the talking?  Yes, and he’d have to work it out on his own.  What to do?  Ah, yes.  Use a logical approach, as Melwin might.  What was the problem?  How to get enough animals to join together in opposition to the merger.  Right?  Yes.  So what was the answer?  He wasn’t sure.

“It’s not an issue as far as I’m concerned,” Hogie had told him.

“You don’t think it’s a conspiracy?”

“No.  What gave you that idea?”

“You did.”

“Oh.”

“Don’t you think karmeting sets a dangerous precedent?”

“A what?”

“Precedent.”

“What’s that?”

“They might want other privileges.”

“Like what?”

Manley felt weary.  Was he not being clear or was it Hogie?  “Anything.  What if they decide that they should have your forage?”

Hogie’s eyes twitched.  “My forage?”

“Well, we need to ensure that the rats don’t think it’s their right to go around sniffing bums, or anything else.”  Then Manley had an inspiration.  “Laughing,” he said.

“What about it?”

“I don’t think they like laughing.”

Hogie’s brow furrowed.  “No?”

“Have you ever seen a rat laugh?”

Hogie was concentrating. “No, you’re right.”

“I think there’s a reason for that.  A laughing animal is hard to control.”  As he said it, Manley thought he understood the Corporation’s success.  “That’s how they get everyone to work so hard.  No laughing.  Humour is freedom.”

“What’s that have to do with sniffing bums?”

“I’m just saying that if they’re allowed to sniff anuses what’s to prevent them from trying to dominate animals in other ways?”

“You really think they might do that?”

“Anything is possible.  Didn’t bum-sniffing seem incongruous?”

“In… what? “

“Incongruous?”

“Yeah.  What’s that?”

“Not feasible.”

“Not what?

“Feasible.”

“What’s that?”

Manley felt like shouting “Don’t you read?” but he didn’t.  He needed every vote.  He had to scare Hogie.  “It means not possible.”

“Oh.”

“Don’t you always say ideas are dangerous?”

“Yeah…”

“So what happens if the rats and weasels get the idea to eat your forage or to abolish laughing or breaking wind, and they have enough votes to see it passed?”

“That wouldn’t be good.”

“With enough votes, they could decide to abolish anything they like.”

“So what can I do?” asked Hogie, alarmed.

“Vote with the rest of us when the issue comes up at the next meeting.”

“Which issue?”

“Bum-sniffing.”

“Oh, right.  Okay.”

*

Manley’s eyelids and snout drooped as he plodded through the Forest, speaking to as many animals as he could.  Most ignored him, sneered at him, or stepped on his snout.

“What’s going on?”  Wilhemina’s voice demanded.

“What?”  Manley, leaning on his bark duster, realized he’d been having sleep thoughts.  “I’m cleaning” he said, hurriedly moving the duster back and forth.

“You were sleeping.”

“I was resting my eyes.  I keep getting bark dust in them.”

“It looked like you were sleeping.”

“Did it?  Well, I wasn’t.”

“Be careful.”

“Careful?”  Manley was finding her tone particularly irritating.  He was tired and irritable which made it difficult not to upset her.

“There’s going to be changes.”

“What changes?”

“Oh… changes…”

“I see.  Do you know what changes?”

“I might.”

Manley almost laughed.  Obviously she had just found out about the merger and thought that no one else knew.  “You don’t mean the merger, do you?”

Manley didn’t smile.  He enjoyed astonishing her, but he knew he had to be careful.  She was dangerous in her stupidity, and might, if provoked, sink her weasel teeth into his molish neck.  You couldn’t trust weasels.  Many of the animals Manley had talked to were unconcerned because they didn’t understand the true character of Weasels.  Or Rats.

Warren Woodpecker had stated the ‘unconcerned’ position clearly.  “I don’t see what the ‘danger’ is.”

“If certain animals are allowed special privileges, it could be awkward for others.”

“You’re saying that the Rats and the Weasels are involved in a conspiracy.”

“Well no, not exactly.”

“That’s what it sounds like to me.”

“Are you in favour of Karmeting?”

“Somebody’s got to do it.”

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why does anybody have to sniff anuses?”

Warren Woodpecker took a close, severe look at Manley.  “What’s your problem?  If the Rats want to karmet, it’s their right.”

“How can it be their right?”

“Look, do they come and tell you where to burrow?”

“Do you let them do it to you?”

“I’m usually up a tree and the last time I looked, buddy, Rats don’t climb trees.”

“All I’m asking is that you think about it.  Will you?”

“Oh yeah, I’ll think about it.  Between pecks, I’ll be thinking real hard about it.”

“Okay, thanks.”

When Manley approached Peter Porcupine and Phil Fox, he heard the Fox bound up onto something.  “What’s he doing?” Manley asked.

“Phil’s observing Edgar Eagle, perched on a tree on top of Abrupt Hill,” said the Porcupine, “but let me assure you that he’s most interested in what you have to say.”

Why was Phil Fox observing Edgar Eagle?  “Does he like eagles?”

“Phil’s making a study of leadership qualities, so that he can cultivate the very ones that make a great leader.  You were about to ask…?”

“I’d like to ask for your vote on the issue of karmeting.”

Manley heard wariness in the Porcupine’s tone. “Well, of course, it’s a timely issue, but complicated, and while we think that the Corporation has always been committed to the betterment of all animals, we understand why the issue has been raised.  Having said that, it is difficult to believe that such a simple practice represents a danger.”  Weary, Manley wondered why so many refused to believe that the Rats were capable of subjugating others.

“Now, of course, we agree with you,” continued the Porcupine.  “The situation here in Feckly needs to be defined etc. etc.  And it goes without saying that Phillip and I will do everything in our power to assist in bringing about ah… a satisfactory solution. And we will give serious consideration to what you have proposed.”  He lowered his voice.  “It’s quite possible that Phillip might make his unique leadership abilities available to the Council on this issue.”  The Porcupine paused.  Was he too looking at the eagle?  “May I say, by the way, that your own efforts will be fully acknowledged in due course.  And we hope you will think about supporting Phillip if a leadership role should be required in the distant future.”

Noting that Phil Fox hadn’t spoken, Manley asked tentatively, “So we can count on both of your votes?”

“Obviously,” said Peter Porcupine, “we will be supporting whatever is in the best interests of the Forest.”

At the Bark Burrow, Manley tried to calculate how many votes were committed.   Possibly 8, although some—like Hogie—were hesitant.  Beryl Beaver and her friends and other beavers (the Rodents Not Rats group) would account for 10, which at the outside meant 18-20 votes.  He knew that the Corporation membership was at least 50, and that Ronald could count on other rodents, and the weasel family.  This gave the pro-karmenting forces around 60, possibly 70, votes, many, many more than he was able to muster.  Where would he find a body of votes—from animals who understood the dangers of a rat-dominated forest?

He was briefly closing his eyes when he caught Wilhemina’s voice, “…here’s two barks I adored, The Perfection of the Mongoose  by Phyllis Fox and Delicious Ducks  by Lydia Lynx.

Manley heard a female voice reply, “I think you misunderstand.  I’m looking for a bark that doesn’t advocate eating other animals.”  The voice was soft and kind, but firm.

“Wha.. what kind of animal doesn’t eat other animals?” sputtered Wilhemina.

“A sensible animal,” the female voice responded.

“I don’t recall,” said Manley hurriedly, quickly waddling over, “seeing anything specifically on that topic but we might try in ‘Miscellaneous’.  Allow me,” he said to Wilhemina.

He heard the animal follow him to a stack of barks.  He could sense she was larger than he, but her scent was reassuring, redolent of nuts and berries.  “We could look under ‘species’.  Which species, do you think, might refrain from eating other animals?”

“What do you eat?”

Manley smiled.  “I’m afraid that I’m too fond of grubs to qualify.”

“I don’t know if I would consider grubs as animals.”

“They’re living creatures.”

“I suppose they are.”

“I’m sorry, I don’t know your species.”  Manley stated, peering at her.

“Fisher Marten.  Call me Miranda.”

“Manley.”  He could her eyes scrutinizing him.

“Do you know this bark,” Manley asked, searching about for a copy of Without Horns.   “It’s the story of a female goat who defends her young without the help of a male.”

“That sounds interesting, but just now I’m looking for something that’s anti-carnivoria.”

“Right.  Of course.”

Manley led her from pile to pile, peering at the barks, but found nothing.  “It doesn’t seem to be a popular subject.”

“No,” said Miranda, glumly.  “All animals seem determined to eat each other.”

“Not all animals.” said Manley, helpfully.  “Mooses don’t.”

“You’re right,” remarked Miranda.  “I suppose there are some.”

“May I ask why you’re seeking this information?”

“To try to find a way to put an end to it.”

“Why?”

“I don’t think it’s right.  Do you?”

“I hadn’t thought about it.”

“Of course you have.  You think about it all the time or else you would have been eaten by now.”

“I hadn’t thought about there being an alternative.  Is there one?”

“Vegetation.”

“Why aren’t animals eating vegetation?”

“Most animals aren’t independent thinkers.”

“Really?”

“Yes.  I’m a member of the weasel family.  Normally a fisher marten eats squirrels and the occasional porcupine, but I live quite well on knuckleberries, dunkernuts, leaves and pine cones, which goes against ‘normal’ thinking on the matter.”

“I guess it does.”

“Would you be willing to give up your grubs?”

“What would I eat?”

“It should be relatively simple to substitute herbaceous items for animal ones.”

Manley found himself wanting to impress her.  “I might try.”

“Good for you.”

*

When Miranda left the Burrow, Manley hurried over to Moose Meadow to discover what he could about this wonderfully strange creature.

“She’s a bit odd, but I like her. “ commented Malcolm, without thinking.

“There’s nothing odd about her,” stated Melwin who was grazing nearby.

“Did we ask for your opinion?”

“It was freely given.  And you’re welcome.”

From the two moose, Manley discovered that Miranda was well known in the Forest, having lectured all who came in contact with her about carnivoria and the rights of the female of all species.  “What can we do?” she would vocalize at animal gatherings, “to get the male of the species to pay more attention to our needs and wants?  To behave more responsibly to the female?”  Naturally, many males of all species were either angered or amused by Miranda’s ideas, although some thought her looney.  “She can’t even attract a mate,” a few females chided.

“She is a bit unbalanced,” scoffed Malcolm.

“Why?” rebutted Melwin.

“She just is.”

“Oh, I see.  She’s unbalanced because she doesn’t eat animals?”

“Yes.”

“You don’t eat animals.”

“Yes, but I’m not supposed to.”

The more Manley heard about her the more he admired Miranda.  Undaunted by all criticism, she continued to speak out for what she believed in.  It occurred to him that she might prove a valuable ally, and so he asked Rollo where he might find her.  Rollo directed him to a large oak on the hill overlooking Grand Pond and, after carefully wending his way there, stood about nervously staring at the tree as she scurried down it.

She stopped, recognized him, and asked, “Were you looking for me?”

Manley looked about to ensure no one was listening.  “Do you know about the important issue to be voted on at the Forest Council Meeting?”

“Some male-dominated issue, no doubt.”

“No, it’s about Karmeting.”

“Which is?”

“It’s what we call bum-sniffing.”

“Why is this an issue?”

“Some of us believe it shouldn’t be allowed.  The Corporation will try to pass a motion to allow them to continue.”

“So?”

“Don’t you think it should be stopped?”

“It’s not an issue I’m interested in.”

“But it sets a dangerous precendent.”

“How?”

“Suppose the Rats win and are allowed to sniff the anuses of other animals freely.  What’s to prevent them from passing other motions that infringe on animal rights?”

“What motions?”

“Anything.  Like… for example, a motion say… on the superiority of the male over the female.”

From the silence that ensued, Manley knew that he had made his point.  Surely, she understood the danger now.

“What would you like me to do?” she asked.