Chester Raccoon and the Acorn Full of Memories (2 page)

“I can do that,” said Cassy.

As the four raccoons scurried toward the pond, more and more of Skiddil Squirrel’s friends asked if they, too, could come along and make a memory. Before long, two deer, six skunks, three opossums, fourteen rabbits, Badger, a bluebird, six mourning doves, a green snake, twenty-two mice, four squirrels, a beaver, and two chipmunks walked, crawled, slithered, hopped, and flew to the edge of the pond.

“I’ve never seen so many butterflies!” chittered Mrs. Raccoon when they arrived. There were butterflies, and butterflies, and more butterflies! Butterflies were everywhere. They were over the pond, in the trees, under the bushes, on the flowers, and resting on single blades of grass between the animals’ feet.

“What do I do now?” asked Chester as a bright purple butterfly balanced on the tip of his nose.

“Tell me a story about Skiddil Squirrel,” said Mrs. Raccoon.

“What kind of a story?”

“Something that happened here at the pond.”

Chester scrunched his nose thoughtfully and the butterfly flew away. “Once when we were playing here, about a gazillion butterflies landed on Skiddil Squirrel all at the same time. He was so covered in butterflies, you could hardly see his fur! He thought that with all those butterflies standing on him, he could fly like they do.

So he took a running start and jumped into the air when he got to the edge of the pond. He landed SPLASH on his belly and all the butterflies flew off. He dripped all he way back to his tree.”

“That’s a wonderful memory,” laughed Mrs. Raccoon.

“Do you have another one?”

“One day Skiddil Squirrel made us all late for school because a caterpillar was turning into a butterfly, and he wouldn’t let us miss it. We all watched the butterfly come out of its chrysalis and spread open its brand new wings. Skiddil Squirrel was so excited, he told all the other butterflies what happened even though they already knew.”

“That’s a lovely memory,” agreed Chester’s mother.

Suddenly Chester looked sad. “One day aft er school, Skiddil Squirrel came here and buried all of the acorns he had collected for the winter. But when he wanted them, he forgot where he had buried them. He really loved those acorns. Everyone in school helped him look for them.”

“Did he find them?” asked Mrs. Raccoon.

Chester shook his head. “No.”

Mrs. Raccoon stood up on her back legs and looked around. She spotted a hillside not far away and patted Chester on the top of his head. “I think I know where those acorns are buried,” she told him. She pointed to a small group of brand new oak trees growing at the base of the hillside.

“Those are Skiddil Squirrel trees!” shouted Chester when he saw the young trees for himself. “The forest made a Skiddil Squirrel memory!”

“I believe it did,” said Mrs. Raccoon. “Those trees, your stories, and the butterflies all make wonderful memories of Skiddil Squirrel.”

Chester suddenly noticed a beautiful black-and-orange butterfly on the ground beside his front foot. When it folded its wings, he saw the acorn beneath it. He gently and carefully lift ed the acorn and butterfly off the ground, held his breath, and waited patiently until the butterfly flew away on its own. He clutched the acorn in his front paw and looked up at his mother.

“This acorn is the memory I’ll take home,” he told her. “I’ll keep it with my special piece of tree bark. Every time I look at it, I’ll think of Skiddil Squirrel.”

“It’s a beautiful acorn, Chester. It will make a perfect memory.”

With the acorn securely clutched in his paw, Chester scampered over to the Skiddil Squirrel trees and placed a Kissing Hand on each new tree trunk.

“I’ll never forget you, Skiddil Squirrel. Thank you for being my friend!”