Taterskin & The Eco Defenders: Book 2, Chapter 37
Book 2 ("Tell It to Future Generations"), Chapter 37 of 56
CHAPTER 37
Stripes and Rory stepped up to intercept him. Marmalade jumped up on Stripes’ back. She wanted to see this new kind of Cat, too, but also wanted the protection of her ‘big brother’ in case the Jaguar was out of sorts or cranky for some reason.
“Anybody got a Pop-Tart? I’m hungry!” the Jaguar said.
Those of us who knew what a Pop-Tart was laughed; the rest were merely confused.
“Why would you want a Pop-Tart, of all things?” Albert asked. “Or, more to the point, how were you introduced to them in the first place?”
“I’ve grown used to eating them; when miners abandon one camp for another, they often leave a couple behind. I tried one out of curiosity, and I don’t know why, but I get a craving for them at times. I especially like them when they’re nice and stale, with a little dirt on them, so they get crunchy. I like crunchy things!”
We all either scratched our heads or tried not to look directly at this beautiful Cat with the odd taste in snacks. Once the silence went on long enough that it became awkward, Tubthumper told him her name and asked for his.
“Spots,” he said.
This made Marmalade perk up. Her ears went forward, and she blurted out, “Hey! Maybe you’re related to my big brother here — which would mean you’re related to me and I’m related to you. His name is Stripes!”
That broke the ice, and everybody else introduced themselves to Spots. No sooner was that accomplished when another Cat came out of the jungle and approached our group. This one was considerably smaller than Rory and Stripes and Jubatus and Spots, though. She was only a little larger than a House Cat — not much bigger than Marmalade, in other words.
“What kind of animal are you?” Terri asked.
“I’m an Ocelot.”
“Ha! More like an Ocelittle!” Terri said, and laughed screechily.
“Hey! Remember, you’re no giant anymore yourself,” Chapawee scolded the miniaturized Pterodactyl.
Terri had momentarily forgotten her decrease in dimensions, became embarrassed, and took another couple of steps back from the crowd.
After more palaver, the Cats recommended Mount Roraima as the place to go.
“The sloping hills at the base of Mount Roraima would be just about perfect” Spots said, and Lottie the Ocelot agreed.
It was then arranged for the Macaws and Toucans to spread the word to the Birds of the forest as they made their way to Mount Roraima. Spots and Lottie would do the same with the animals they came across on their way there, and we enlisted some Howler Monkeys to spread the word among their brethren. From the crown of the Kapok trees, they howled in vocal ‘bucket brigade’ fashion. Each Howler can be heard two to three miles away, so in short order, these largest Monkeys in the Amazon would be able to see to it that all knew where they were to gather. In English, the howls translated to “Base of Mount Roraima! As soon as you can get there! Be there or be square!”
Harpy Eagles also swiftly broadcast the news by spreading their wings and covering as much ground ... er, air ... as they could, advertising the same message.
So, as mentioned would be the case, Rinky remained behind with the River Dolphins, Manatees, Bull Sharks, Stingrays, Arapaimas, Yapoks (an aquatic marsupial with a water-tight pouch), Capybaras, Tapirs, and other animals of the river and riverbank to teach them how they could help out in the effort to save the Amazon (and, thus, the earth).
Knowing the advertising campaign was well in hand (or well in foot, flipper, and wing), we made our way to the agreed-upon meeting place. We could have walked there through the jungle, but since it was about 500 miles, we opted to save time by flying. We hitched a ride on a Manatee or a Dolphin — or swam or dog paddled — back across the river to our JNG-Fs, and climbed aboard.
The destination to Mount Roraima was set, the date was left at 1978, and away we flew — first hovering far above the Kapok trees, and then began our half-hour trip, passing over Rorainopolis and Boa Vista on the way.
The stunning site of Mount Roraima, a table mountain, caused us to stare and gasp. As our trainees would not arrive for some days yet, we decided to land atop the almost-two-mile-high sandstone monolith. From there we could watch our new friends and partners in defense of the Amazon and the Earth arrive at the valley below.
We figured we had at least a couple of days to spare before they all started showing up. Maybe it was time for some fun. After all, “All work and no play makes Taterskin a dull pooch,” as they say.
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