So yet again I’ve written something weird. There isn’t
any special meaning behind it, I just wanted to have fun with the world implied
by the images and ended up going kind of philosophical. Sorry I’m turning this
in so very late <3
“How come
feathered beings like birds don’t talk and wear clothes like us?” Little
Whitefur wondered as he watched the swans glide across the glittering river.
Mrs. Softpaws frowned a little at her little boy’s
strange question and turned to wipe dirt off her older daughter’s skirt. “Well…
I don’t rightly know honey. Maybe it’s because of the beaks. They could make
talking quite difficult.”
“Obviously it is because that is the will of the Great
Caretaker”, aunt Curlytail remarked, matter-of-factly. “She has decided that
intelligence is our lot in life, and that freedom from knowledge is the birds’.
Things are so because they were intended to be.”
“But why? What makes us different from those swans
over there? Don’t they live longer than us?”
Little Whitefur had waded halfway into the water and
was peering at the white birds with a deep, deep frown. Mrs. Sortpaws thought
that he must really have been very troubled by this philosophical question –
her clever little boy… Or perhaps he just had difficulty seeing due to the river
water. It was a very bright day after all, and the warm mild wind had persuaded
the surface of the water into a gentle little dance, which the sunlight was
more than happy to stage.
“Long age doesn’t always mean that you’re wiser!” Little
Silkears huffed, frowning at her brother. “Just think of Granpa Fastjumper! He
is the oldest person I know but definitely not the smartest.”
“Silkears! That’s rude. You should remember to respect
your elders!” Mrs. Softpaws interjected and pulled back her daughter who was
just about to wade into the water after her brother and ruin her dress.
Aunt Curlytail shook her head with a sight. “There is
some truth to though. Age isn’t everything when it comes to intelligence. The
Great Caretaker has given us all different gifts.”
“More like evolution has.”
The new voice spooked Mrs. Softpaws, who hurriedly
turned to look at the small mouse hiding between the dandelions. “Oh, good
morning, professor Roundnose! Rare seeing you in the park this early!”
“Good morning, Mrs Softpaws. I was on my way to see my
sister about spring cleaning,” the mouse replied politely. “But, yes, like I
said. Birds cannot talk because they did not evolve to. Simply put.”
“What does evolution mean?” Little Whitefur wondered.
“Well, you know how you live in a house on the ground
and Ms. Curlytail and squirrels prefers tree houses? That is because
the world is a dangerous place and, so, all of us different wise folk have leaned
into slightly different tactics to avoid the predators. Bunnies have strong legs
and large paws so that they can dig holes to hide in. Squirrels have sharp nails
so that they can climb away from danger. You bunnies are brown and grey so that
you can blend into the ground better
Ms. Curlytail is orange so you can’t tell her apart
from the pine tree,” professor Roundnose seemed to be quite
pleased by the interest of his captive audience and kept going with his
explanation.
“It didn’t all used to be like this. All of us, rabbits, squirrels,
mice, used to be more similar to each other once. And then we found different
ways to survive and got children that were better suited for those ways, and
then they got children who were even better suited. Until we ended up looking
quite different from each other.”
“What poppycock!” Aunt Curlytail huffed. “It was the
Great Caretaker who made us our unique, miraculous selves. No arbitrary force of
nature could have done it.”
“Well, who’s to say the Great Caretaker didn’t use
evolution as a tool to accomplice what She intended?” professor Roundnose offered.
“But I still don’t get it? Then there isn’t a reason
that we the ones talking and walking? It just happened to happen that way? Just because?”
Little Whitefur made a face like he was deeply unhappy
with this trouble. Professor Roundnose talked like he knew a lot, but even he
couldn’t answer the question he really wanted to know. This was going to bug
him for the rest of the day, and Mrs. Softpaws was already seeing the warning
signs of a bad day, when professor Roundnose saw the opportunity to distract
the little bunny with another question:
“That maybe.
Maybe it truly just does happen to be that way just because – but you’re only thinking that
because this is the way things are. If it had gone differently, if birds
were the ones talking instead of us, could there not – perhaps – be a little
swan fledgling here asking these questions instead? What do you think?”
At that, Little Whitefur became quite quiet and contemplative.
He left his family on the beach and waded some ways into the reeds to watch the
swans. Little swan fledglings were practicing diving in a gentle shallow by the
peer. They were quacking and honking at each other in between attempts. Perhaps,
it could’ve, in fact, been one of them instead of him wondering these deep
things in another world? Or maybe, he thought, they already were thinking these
things here and he just couldn't understand them.
All state members can take part.
