Storytime with Brian #6 - The Adventures of Paddy Beaver (Chapters 13–15)

In this episode of Storytime with Brian, Brian reads Chapters 13–15 of The Adventures of Paddy Beaver.

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Attribution and source notes

Story source: The Adventures of Paddy Beaver by Thornton W. Burgess, originally published in 1917. The text is in the public domain in the United States and was sourced from Project Gutenberg.

Opening and closing music:
“Gentle Nightfall Vol. 6” — Pixabay Music

Background ambience:
“Nature British Woods Ambient Noise” — Pixabay

Transcript

Storytime with Brian #6 — The Adventures of Paddy Beaver (Chapters 13–15)

Hey, good morning. Brian here. Welcome to Storytime with Brian.

Today, we are picking back up with The Adventures of Paddy Beaver, starting with Chapter 13.

Before we get into it, I just wanted to say: in this chapter, they use the word “queer” a lot. At the time this was written, “queer” meant odd or unusual. So that's what they mean as they are using that word.

So, all right, let's start.

Chapter 13: The Queer Storehouse

Everybody knew that Paddy the Beaver was laying up a supply of food for the winter, and everybody thought it was queer food. That is, everybody but Prickly Porky the Porcupine thought so.

Prickly Porky liked the same kind of food, but he never lays up a supply. He just goes out and gets it when he wants it, winter or summer.

What kind of food was it? Why, bark, to be sure. Yes, sir, it was just bark—the bark of certain kinds of trees.

Now, Prickly Porky can climb the trees and eat the bark right there, but Paddy the Beaver cannot climb. And if he should just eat the bark that he can reach from the ground, it would take such a lot of trees to keep him filled up that he would soon spoil the Green Forest.

You know, when the bark is taken off a tree all the way around, the tree dies. That is because all the things that a tree draws out of the ground to make it grow and keep it alive are carried up from the roots in the sap. And the sap cannot go up the tree trunks and into the branches when the bark is taken off, because it is up the inside of the bark that it travels. So when the bark is taken from a tree all the way around the trunk, the tree just starves to death.

Now, Paddy the Beaver loves the Green Forest as dearly as you and I do, and perhaps even a little more dearly. You see, it is his home. Besides, Paddy never is wasteful. So he cuts down a tree so that he can get all the bark instead of killing a whole lot of trees for a very little bark, as he might do if he were lazy.

There isn't a lazy bone in him. Not one.

The bark he likes best is from the aspen. When he cannot get that, he will eat the bark from the poplar, the alder, the willow, and even the birch. But he likes the aspen so much better that he will work very hard to get it. Perhaps it tastes better because he does have to work so hard for it.

There were some aspen trees growing right on the edge of the pond Paddy had made in the Green Forest. These he cut just as he had cut the trees for his dam. As soon as a tree was down, he would cut it into short lengths and would swim out to where the water was deep, close to his new home.

He took them one by one and carried the first ones to the bottom, where he pushed them into the mud just enough to hold them. Then, as fast as he brought more, he piled them on the first ones. And so the pile grew and grew.

Jerry Muskrat, Peter Rabbit, Bobby Coon, and the other little people of the Green Forest watched him with the greatest interest and curiosity. They couldn't quite make out what he was doing. It was almost as if he were building the foundation for another house.

“What's he doing, Jerry?” demanded Peter, when he could keep still no longer.

“I don't exactly know,” replied Jerry. “He said that he was going to lay in a supply of food for the winter, just as I told you, and I suppose that is what he's doing. But I don't quite understand what he is taking it all out into the pond for. I believe I'll go ask him.”

“Do, and then come tell us,” begged Peter, who was growing so curious that he couldn't sit still.

So Jerry swam out to where Paddy was so busy.

“Is this your food supply, Cousin Paddy?” he asked.

“Yes,” replied Paddy, crawling up on the side of his house to rest. “Yes, this is my food supply. Isn't it splendid?”

“I guess it is,” replied Jerry, trying to be polite, “though I like lily roots and clams better. But what are you gonna do with it? Where is your storehouse?”

“This pond is my storehouse,” replied Paddy. “I will make a great pile right here close to my house, and the water will keep it nice and fresh all winter. When the pond is frozen over, all I will have to do is to slip out of one of my doorways down there on the bottom, swim over here and get a stick, and fill my stomach. Isn't it handy?”

Chapter 14: A Footprint in the Mud

Very early one morning, Paddy the Beaver heard Sammy Jay making a terrible fuss over in the aspen trees on the edge of the pond Paddy had made in the Green Forest.

Paddy couldn't see because he was inside his house, and it has no window, but he could hear. He wrinkled up his brows thoughtfully.

“Seems to me that Sammy is very much excited this morning,” said he, talking to himself. “A way he has become—he is so much alone. Excuse me, a way he has because he is so much alone. When he screams like that, Sammy is usually trying to do two things at once: make trouble for somebody and keep somebody else out of trouble. And when you come to think of it, that's rather a funny way of doing. It shows that he isn't all bad, and at the same time, he is a long way from being all good.

“Now, I should say from the sounds that Sammy has discovered Reddy Fox trying to steal up on someone over where my aspen trees are growing. Reddy is afraid of me, but I suspect that he knows that Peter Rabbit has been hanging around here a lot lately, watching me work, and he thinks perhaps he can catch Peter. I shall have to whisper in one of Peter's long ears and tell him to watch out.”

After a while, he heard Sammy Jay's voice growing fainter and fainter in the Green Forest. Finally, he couldn't hear it at all.

“Whoever was there has gone away, and Sammy has followed just to torment him,” thought Paddy.

He was very busy making a bed. He is very particular about his bed, is Paddy the Beaver. He makes it of fine splinters of wood, which he splits off with those wonderful great cutting teeth of his. This makes the driest kind of a bed.

It requires a great deal of patience and work, but patience is one of the first things a little beaver learns, and honest work well done is one of the greatest pleasures in the world, as Paddy long ago found out for himself.

So he kept at work on his bed for some time after all was still outside.

At last, Paddy decided that he would go over to his aspen trees and look them over to decide which ones he would cut the next night. He slid down one of his long halls, out the doorway at the bottom of the pond, and then swam up to the surface, where he floated for a few minutes with just his head looking out of water.

And all the time, his eyes and nose and ears were busy looking, smelling, and listening for any sign of danger.

Everything was still. Sure that he was quite safe, Paddy swam across to the place where the aspen trees grew and waddled out on the shore.

Paddy looked this way and looked that way. He looked up in the treetops and he looked off up the hill. But most of all, he looked at the ground. Yes, sir, Paddy just studied the ground.

You see, he hadn't forgotten the fuss Sammy Jay had been making there, and he was trying to find out what it was all about.

At first, he didn't see anything unusual. But by and by, he happened to notice a little wet place. And right in the middle of it was something that made Paddy's eyes open wide.

It was a footprint. Someone had carelessly stepped in the mud.

“Ha!” exclaimed Paddy. And the hair on his back lifted ever so little. And for a minute, he had a prickly feeling all over.

The footprint was very much like that of Reddy Fox, only it was larger.

“Ha!” said Paddy again. “That certainly is the footprint of Old Man Coyote. I see I've got to watch out more sharply than I had thought for. All right, Mr. Coyote. Now that I know you are about, you'll have to be smarter than I think you are to catch me. You certainly will be back here tonight looking for me, so I think I'll do my cutting right now, in the daytime.”

Chapter 15: Sammy Jay Makes Paddy a Call

Paddy the Beaver was hard at work. He had just cut down a good-sized aspen tree, and now he was gnawing it into short lengths to put in his food pile in the pond.

As he worked, Paddy was doing a lot of thinking about the footprint of Old Man Coyote in a little patch of mud, for he knew that meant that Old Man Coyote had discovered his pond and would be hanging around, hoping to catch Paddy off his guard.

Paddy knew it just as well as if Old Man Coyote had told him so. That was why he was at work cutting his food supply in the daytime. Usually, he works at night, and he knew that Old Man Coyote knew it.

“He'll try to catch me then,” thought Paddy, “so I'll do my working on land now and fool him.”

The tree he was cutting began to sway and crack. Paddy cut out one more big chip, then hurried away to a safe place while the tree fell with a crash.

“Thief! Thief! Thief!” screamed a voice just back of Paddy.

“Hello, Sammy Jay. I see you don't feel any better than usual this morning,” said Paddy. “Don't you want to sit up in this tree while I cut it down?”

Sammy grew black in the face with anger, for he knew that Paddy was laughing at him. You remember how, only a few days before, he had been so intent on calling Paddy bad names that he actually hadn't noticed that Paddy was cutting the very tree in which he was sitting. And so, when it fell, he had had a terrible fright.

“You think you are very smart, Mr. Beaver, but you'll think differently in one of these fine days,” screamed Sammy. “If you knew what I know, you wouldn't be so well satisfied with yourself.”

“What do you know?” asked Paddy, pretending to be very much alarmed.

“I'm not going to tell you what I know,” retorted Sammy Jay. “You'll find out soon enough. And when you do find out, you'll never steal another tree from our Green Forest. Somebody's going to catch you, and it isn't Farmer Brown's boy either.”

Paddy pretended to be terribly frightened.

“Oh, who is it? Please tell me, Mr. Jay,” he begged.

Now, to be called Mr. Jay made Sammy feel very important. Nearly everybody else called him Sammy. He swelled himself out, trying to look as important as he felt, and his eyes snapped with pleasure. He was actually making Paddy the Beaver afraid. At least he thought he was.

“No, sir, I won't tell you,” he replied. “I wouldn't be you for a great deal, though. Somebody who is smarter than you is going to catch you. And when he gets through with you, there won't be anything left but a few bones. No, sir, nothing but a few bones.”

“Oh, Mr. Jay, this is terrible news. Whatever am I to do?” cried Paddy, all the time keeping right on at work cutting another tree.

“There's nothing you can do,” replied Sammy, grinning wickedly at Paddy's fright. “There's nothing you can do unless you go right straight back to the North where you came from.”

“You think you are very smart, but—”

Sammy didn't finish.

Crack! Over fell the tree Paddy had been cutting, and the top of it fell straight into the alder in which Sammy was sitting.

“Oh! Oh! Help!” shrieked Sammy, spreading his wings and flying away just in time.

Paddy sat down and laughed until his sides ached.

“Come make me another call someday, Sammy,” he said. “And when you do, please bring some real news. I know all about Old Man Coyote. You can tell him for me that when he is planning to catch people, he should be careful not to leave footprints to give himself away.”

Sammy didn't reply. He just sneaked off through the Green Forest, looking quite as foolish as he felt.

Well, all right. I think that'll do it for today.

Thanks for joining me for more of The Adventures of Paddy the Beaver.

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You can learn more about my books and artwork at bdcrowell.com.

So, until next time, keep drawing, keep imagining, and keep telling stories.

Bye-bye.