Rooster and Bear Camp Out

CHAPTER TWO

By Diane Dockum

Rooster and Bear decided to go camping.

Since Bear had a lot of fur, he would sleep in a cave he often used, but Rooster would have to bring his sleeping bag.

The_y sat around the campfire for a while toasting marshmallows and putting them between graham crackers. They drank fresh spring water to wash it down. As night fell, Bear yawned and stretched and scratched his belly. Rooster combed out his feathers and picked the marshmallow from his beak with a twig.

“Well, I guess we ought to get some shut-eye”, said Bear. But Rooster was feeling kind of fidgety. He had not told Bear that the dark was sort of scary to him. He wanted to sleep in the cave with Bear, just for the company, but he was afraid there might be bats.* (Here “bats” means the little mouse-like creatures with wings that fly around at night and eat bugs and stuff. Sometimes they creep people out.)

He wanted to stay by the fire to keep warm and see the reassuring bright flames in the dark.

“How about a game of cards?” Rooster asked.

“I’m too tired”, said Bear, yawning and stretching.

“How about another snack, or a bedtime story?” asked Rooster.

“I don’t think so.”

“Well, how about …”

But, before he could go on, Bear said, “I don’t think so, good night.”

He was a bear of few words. Rooster was left on his own. He sat by the fire and listened to the sounds of the night. He heard the rustling of skunks in the tall grass, and the chirping of crickets. The stream lapped against a hollow log on the bank.

He wished his socks had dried all the way, since he had fallen into the stream, but they still hung wet on the tree branches.

There was nothing left to do except zip himself up into his new “Mummy Bag” and drift off to dream land.

The sleeping bag was slippery and shiny green and had the smell of newness still on it.

He poked his little chicken legs down into the warm bag. He wiggled and wriggled his way in. It was a tight fit. There was a hood that went over his head to keep him from getting a chill. He pulled the strings tight and tied them under his beak.

He stayed very still. What else could he do?

Bear lay down in the warm cave full of dried pine needles and leaves. He’d slept there before. It was his home away from home. Soon he was snoring away.

But, out by the fire Rooster was bug-eyed and nervously awaiting the dawn. A wolf howled. Rooster stiffened in his mummy bag.

Another wolf barked and howled. Rooster began to think he should’ve slept in the cave. After all, wolves have been known to eat birds…and a rooster, after all, IS a bird!

He had an idea. He would get out of his bag and go into the cave and find Bear. Bear would save him. Bear would be able to protect him from wolves!

He grabbed the zipper and pulled. It was stuck! He was sure the wolves were coming closer! Frantically, Rooster thrashed and kicked. He tried to get the zipper down, but it wouldn’t budge.

The steady rhythm of snores came from the cave. Bear was sound asleep. The wolves were getting closer. Rooster decided to roll into the cave and worry about the zipper in the morning.

He could tell which direction because of the snores. He rolled and rolled over and over. He rolled over the sticks and rocks, and rubbed his beak into the dirt several times, spitting out the bad taste.

The smell of grass and earth and toadstools was strong in his nostrils. Closer and closer to the cave he got…he thought.

Just then the bag began to slide down a steep hill. He was going faster and faster. It was dark and he didn’t know where he was, so he let out a wild squawk!.

The Rooster in the mummy bag hit a bump, flew up into the air and was wedged in the crotch* of a tall pine tree.

*(here “crotch” means where two big tree limbs part, and one grows left and one grows right, like the letter V.)

Dawn came, and Bear came out of the cave refreshed. He was ready to eat a bear-sized breakfast.

Where was Rooster?

Bear put his paw up over his eyebrows to keep the morning sun out of his eyes and searched the horizon. He sniffed the air. He tracked Rooster’s scent all around the place where the campfire had been. There was nothing but the smell of wolves. The fir stood up on the back of his neck. He got a terrible pain in his stomach. The wolves had taken his little buddy away.

The bag of marshmallows was all chewed up, and everything else was gone, even Rooster’s sleeping bag. Surely, he would never see him again.

Bear sat down on a tree stump and put his paws over his face and felt very sad.

Bear sat alone for a while. The sun was getting higher. He imagined he heard the sound of crowing. CROWING!

Bear jumped off the tree stump and followed the crowing sound. He went down a steep hill and then up a short hill. There in front of him was a tall pine tree. And there in the tree hung a shiny green sleeping bag with a yellow beak sticking out and crowing like crazy!

Bear climbed the tree and carried Rooster down. He rubbed some Slippery Moss on the zipper and out Rooster came, just like opening a pea pod.

Bear was happy and Rooster was thankful. The accident had saved him from the wolves.

“Thanks, Bear,” said Rooster. “Sorry for being such a chicken.”

-end-