Zucchini Out West Read online

  You’re back! thought Zucchini as he crawled out from inside his sweatshirt sleeve.

  Billy moved to the tub. “We have to go somewhere,” he said.

  Where? thought Zucchini.

  Billy was taking Zucchini to the prairie.

  The late-afternoon sunlight slanted from just above the horizon to the west as Mr. Reynolds pulled the Pathfinder onto the rough prairie ground on the side of the road.

  Zucchini was filled with excitement. He sat up on his hind legs on Billy’s lap and peered through the window, straining at his leash.

  We’re here! he thought. We’re really here!

  Emma was asleep in the backseat.

  “We’ll wait in the car,” said Mr. Reynolds. “I’ve got a script to read.”

  Let’s go! thought Zucchini. Open up!

  Billy opened the door. Holding Zucchini tight, he stepped to the ground, turned, and faced the open prairie.

  At last! Zucchini thought. It’s more beautiful than in my dreams!

  Billy walked for several minutes holding Zucchini, silent. It had snowed the week before and there were still many patches of soft white snow. Billy’s sneakers were soon wet through. His feet were cold.

  Zucchini breathed in deep. He could see for miles in all directions. To the west were the mountains topped with snow. All was purple-pink in the glow of the afternoon sun.

  When Billy reached a dry patch of prairie earth, he stopped. Then he sat down. He unhooked Zucchini’s leash and took off his halter, but Zucchini didn’t move. He sensed something in Billy that he couldn’t understand. He sat at Billy’s side, staring into his eyes, searching for an answer.

  After several moments Billy spoke. “I have to tell you something,” he said. He cleared his throat. The dampness had made him hoarse. “There’s a kind of ferret that’s endangered,” he began. “That means there’s almost no more left. There’s a lot of animals like that. People messed everything up. They poisoned nature and a lot of animals can’t survive.”

  How awful, thought Zucchini.

  “The ferrets that are endangered are called black-footed ferrets.”

  I have black feet, Zucchini thought.

  It was as if Billy had read Zucchini’s mind. “A lot of ferrets have black feet,” he said, “but only a few of them are endangered. It’s against the law to keep them if they are.” He paused. He could hardly bring himself to continue. At last he spoke. “If you’re endangered, I can’t keep you.”

  Oh, no! Zucchini thought.

  Billy forced himself to go on. “Tomorrow I’m supposed to take you to the research center. If the doctor says you’re a black-footed ferret, I have to give you up.”

  Slowly Zucchini stepped into Billy’s lap. He stood for a moment, confused and frightened. Then he lay down.

  “I’m telling you this because I love you,” said Billy. “I don’t even know if you can understand.”

  I understand, thought Zucchini. I wish I didn’t.

  “You have a choice,” Billy went on. “You can stay with me, or you can go free. You can stay on the prairie forever.”

  Without you?

  Tears were burning Billy’s face. He wiped them off with the sleeve of his jacket. “I can’t stay with you,” he said, “but at least you’ll be free. If you come with me and you’re endangered, they’ll put you in a zoo. I couldn’t stay with you there, either, and you’d be in a cage.”

  Zucchini lay in Billy’s lap, limp and lifeless.

  I don’t want to leave you, he thought.

  Billy looked across the prairie. He had brought Zucchini to a spot far from where the ferrets were being released. If Zucchini was a black-footed ferret, Billy didn’t want him to disturb the breeding chain. He looked down at Zucchini, stroking the soft fur of his back. “You’d better go,” he said. “It’s the only way.”

  The sun was setting now. The wind was cold. After several minutes Billy set Zucchini on the ground. “Go on,” he said. “You have a chance to be free.”

  Zucchini didn’t move. He looked at the open range, the soft snow, the mountains in the purple light.

  “Go on,” said Billy.

  Slowly Zucchini started off. After a few steps he stopped. He turned to look at Billy.

  “Go on!” repeated Billy, louder this time.

  Zucchini started walking. Ahead he could see the mountains. On he walked, because Billy had told him to go. He moved steadily ahead, the tiny animal in vast expanse of nature, moving slowly away from his friend.

  Billy couldn’t watch. He hung his head and closed his eyes as he sat silently, not moving, feeling completely alone.

  I hope he makes it, he thought. Please, let him survive!

  He wanted to call out, to stop Zucchini, to bring him back, but he didn’t.

  Let him go, he told himself. He needs his freedom.

  Billy remained motionless, not breathing almost, as the minutes passed. There was no sound, not even the wind. Soon it was dark.

  I should leave, he thought. I can’t sit here forever.

  And then it happened. A cold nose brushed against his hand.

  New Tricks

  On the way back to the hotel they stopped at Chuck’s Ruff’um Up Steak House for dinner. Zucchini sat in his cage in the back of the Pathfinder next to One-Day Service, who was in her cage, running as usual on her wheel.

  What will become of me? Zucchini wondered. Will I be special and live in a zoo? Will I be ordinary and stay with Billy? Please let me be ordinary! I want to stay with Billy forever! I’ll even put up with One-Day Service. She’s not so bad. She’s small and scared and it makes her do strange things. I know how that can be. My life is good. When you get a bad shock, it makes you see how lucky you are.

  Squeak, squeak, rattle, rattle, bang, bang, went the wheel. One-Day Service was running with a wide stride, body long, ears gently back.

  Nothing stops her, thought Zucchini. She should deliver the mail.

  Zucchini moved up to the edge of his cage and addressed the mouse. “I may be leaving,” he said.

  “Short cheese, long cheese, mild cheese, strong cheese,” said the mouse, deep within a world of her own. She looked straight ahead through the orange plastic of her cage at the inside edge of the rear-window frame.

  “I may not come back,” said Zucchini.

  The mouse stopped. “What?” she said. She steadied herself on the wheel, which shook from the sudden stopping.

  “This may be my last night.”

  “What do you mean?” The mouse’s pink eyes seemed to pop forward in their sockets.

  “I might be endangered,” said Zucchini. “People can’t keep endangered animals.”

  “Are mice endangered?” asked the mouse.

  “I don’t think so,” said Zucchini.

  “Thank goodness,” said the mouse. She climbed off her wheel and sat down in the middle of her cage. She stared at a nearby mound of wood shavings. “Where will you go?” she asked.

  “It’s not definite that I’m going,” said Zucchini. “It’s more or less a strong possibility.”

  “How strong?”

  “I don’t know,” said Zucchini.

  “If you do go somewhere, where will you go?”

  “To a zoo.”

  “I hear most zoos are nice.”

  “Billy won’t be there,” said Zucchini.

  “Neither will I,” said the mouse.

  Zucchini hadn’t thought of that. It was a bright spot on a dark horizon.

  “This is terrible,” said the mouse. She was pacing now. She seemed upset.

  “Why?” said Zucchini. “You never said you liked me.”

  “I don’t talk a lot.”

  “You talk about cheese.”

  “You’re a fine sort of animal,” said the mouse. “You’re large—”

  “I’m not so large.”

  “You are to me. You’re large and friendly and cheerful.”

  “Thank you,” said Zucchini.

  “You�
��re welcome,” said the mouse. “You’re a comfort and a friend.”

  “Friends share things,” said Zucchini. “We don’t share anything.”

  “Maybe we could,” said the mouse. “A mouse can learn new tricks.”

  “It’s not a trick to be a friend.”

  “What is it?” One-Day Service moved closer, pressing her nose against the orange plastic wall of her cage.

  “It’s a constant sort of thing,” said Zucchini. He thought about Billy. “It’s listening and caring.”

  “I’ll try it,” said the mouse.

  Zucchini was stunned at the depth of feeling within the tiny mouse. He stared at her through the bars of his cage, hunched and shivering behind the orange plastic. “I’m sorry,” he said, “but I might have to go. There’s nothing I can do about it. I wish there was.”

  Verdict

  Billy didn’t sleep all night. His father tried to comfort him, but nothing worked. Billy spent the night sitting in the large chair by the window, holding Zucchini close.

  This may be our last night together, he thought as he stroked Zucchini along his back.

  Zucchini was thinking the same thing.

  One-Day Service was quiet. Mr. Reynolds didn’t even have to remove her wheel.

  In the morning they loaded the Pathfinder for the long trip home. They would stop at the research center on their way. Billy lifted his duffel bag into the hatch in back. He was exhausted and felt as if he were moving through a dream.

  “Turkeys are not smart,” said Emma. She was dragging her suitcase toward the car. “Sometimes if they go out in the rain, they look up and open their mouths and they drown.”

  “What made you think of that?” asked Mr. Reynolds.

  “It’s raining,” said Emma as if that explained it.

  When they arrived at the research center, Dr. Thorne ran up to the car. It was raining hard, but he wasn’t wearing a hat. “Bring him in here,” he said when Billy rolled down the window.

  Who’s that? thought Zucchini, looking up from his place on Billy’s lap. Bring me in where?

  Billy got out of the car and carried Zucchini toward a small wooden building off to one side.

  Where are we going? wondered Zucchini as Billy followed Dr. Thorne through the rain.

  Dr. Thorne opened the door.

  “We’ll wait for you here,” called Mr. Reynolds. “Don’t worry. I’m sure it’ll turn out fine.”

  Inside, Billy continued to feel as if he were moving through a dream. He felt numb and distant. Everything had a hollow feeling.

  “Let’s take a look,” said Dr. Thorne. He took Zucchini from Billy and put him on a table.

  There were two other doctors in the room, but they didn’t say anything. They stood around the table looking at Zucchini. Dr. Thorne looked at Zucchini’s face. He looked into his eyes. He opened his mouth. He looked at his teeth. He looked at his tongue. He felt the shape of his skull. He looked into his ears. He stroked his fur. He stretched out his tail. He looked at his legs. He looked at his paws. He turned him over and looked at his belly. He turned him right side up. He held him up with one hand and looked into his face again. He set him back on the table. He looked at his tail. He said something about his tail to the doctors who were watching.

  Zucchini didn’t like being looked at so closely, but Dr. Thorne was gentle, and for that Zucchini was grateful. He waited patiently for the examination to end.

  To Billy it seemed an eternity. He could hear Dr. Thorne’s words, but they sounded as if they were coming through the small end of a very long tunnel. Billy held on to the edge of the table for support. He felt farther and farther away, as if he was in the blackness of space where the air was thin, or maybe there wasn’t any air at all.

  “He’s not a black-footed ferret.”

  Dr. Thorne’s voice shot through the room like a bullet, breaking into Billy’s dream, pulling him back.

  “He sure looks like one, I’ll tell ya,” said Dr. Thorne. “The lightness in color, the hair length, the weight, the markings, the cranial structure, the teeth. He almost had me fooled, but he’s domestic.”

  Thank goodness! thought Zucchini.

  “The dark hair between the forelegs is the tip-off. Black-footed ferrets don’t have that. And another thing. Your ferret doesn’t have any whiskerlike hairs on the outside of the front legs. We’ve seen those hairs only on black-footed ferrets.” Dr. Thorne handed Zucchini to Billy. “He’s yours,” he said. “You’re out ten thousand dollars, but you’ve got yourself a ferret.”

  Home

  Just outside Laramie, Mr. Reynolds stopped the Pathfinder. Billy took Zucchini onto the prairie and they ran. The rain had stopped, the sun was strong, the air was crisp and clear. Billy spread his arms out wide like an eagle. He felt like he was soaring in soft blue space, past the clouds, through the clouds, the breeze in his face, the sun on his back, free. Zucchini ran at his side, veered off to circle, then spun around to return to Billy’s side. It was like Zucchini’s dream. He was one with everything and everything was good.

  On the way out of Wyoming, One-Day Service returned to her wheel. Zucchini had not yet mentioned anything to her, but she could tell. Zucchini was back to stay. In relief and excitement she ran at top speed.

  She’s off again, Zucchini thought.

  “There’s an eagle’s nest,” said Billy, pointing high up into a far-off tree.

  “Eagles are the smartest birds in town,” said Emma. “They run the postal service.”

  “They do not,” said Billy.

  “Yes they do,” said Emma. “They’re the leaders in overnight correspondence.”

  Zucchini did a lot of thinking on the way home. Surely he was the luckiest ferret in all the world, even if he had to share his life with a noisy mouse.

  The night they crossed back over the New York state line, Zucchini rested on Billy’s shoulder, staring though the windshield of the Pathfinder. The headlights from an oncoming frozen-food delivery truck caused Zucchini to blink. He shifted his position, then felt Billy’s hand stroke him gently on the top of his head.

  Billy said I need to be patient, he thought. It should be easy to be patient with a mouse, but it’s not. I don’t want to share my space with her. But I have to! It’s her space as much as mine.

  It had started to rain. Zucchini watched the windshield wiper cross back and forth across the windshield, keeping its even rhythm.

  Patience will help, he thought. If I get patience, it will be easier. And it’s good practice. If I can share my space with One-Day Service, I can share it with anything!

  They picked up Route 17, and soon they were home.

  The first thing Billy’s mother said after she told him how happy she was to see him was that Miss Pickett had called that very morning. She had just opened Billy’s letter upon returning from her vacation. It was her opinion that Zucchini was a domestic ferret. At first she had thought he was a black-footed ferret, but further research had changed her mind. She would not have allowed Billy to take Zucchini if he had been an endangered animal. Although she knew Billy would have given him a good home, it would have been against the law.

  Billy wrote a letter back to thank her.

  Mr. Reynolds had to leave right away because he was starting another movie. Billy tried to be brave, but it was hard to see his father go. Emma cried and held on to him for a long time at the door before he left. Afterward Mr. Ferguson made her a cup of hot chocolate.

  Billy’s school report was a big success. He gave it in front of all three fifth-grade classes in the cafeteria. They pushed the tables to the side and set up rows of chairs. Billy put up a screen so he could show the slides he had taken, along with his talk. He was very nervous, but he put Zucchini up on his shoulder and walked out in front of the group.

  The first slide was of the prairie in Meeteetse. “This is where they first found the ferrets,” Billy began. His voice felt like it was catching in his throat.

  Zucchini sensed Billy
’s nervousness and nudged him behind his ear. It made Billy think of how his pet had returned from the vastness of the prairie to stay at his side no matter what, how that same nose had nudged his hand to let him know. Billy was filled with thankfulness. His fear began to ease.

  The next slide showed a prairie-dog hole. Billy told about Pitchfork Ranch, about Jack Turnell and seeing the prairie dog. He told about meeting Tom Campbell; about Dr. Thorne and Frannie; about Lucille’s Café and about the dog who found the first ferret.

  When the slide of the Tetons came on, Billy told about how every creature on earth is important just like the rivers and the forests and the trees and the air. He was still a little nervous, but it didn’t seem to matter. He felt more excited than afraid.

  “Some people think the earth is so big that nothing humans can do will have any effect,” he went on. “I don’t think that’s true. I think everything is connected to everything else, and what we do changes the earth and the atmosphere a lot. I don’t think nature can take whatever hurting things we do to it and just be fine. Nature is powerful, but it can’t save humans from too many stupid mistakes. We can’t decide what matters and what doesn’t, because everything matters, even if we don’t know how.”

  At this point Billy showed a group of slides one after the next: a pine tree; a moose; a sunset; Zucchini on the prairie; a waterfall; a rainbow; a buffalo; a meadow.

  “It’s not enough to teach kids in school to get good marks and remember things,” he continued. “We have to learn what to do with the stuff we learn and how to figure things out. We need new ideas because a lot of the old ones aren’t working. We have to learn how to take care of living things and about the balance of nature and how we’re pushing it too far. My trip to Wyoming taught me a lot about these things and I hope I can think up new ways to help the earth. The end.”

  A lot of the kids said they liked Billy’s report. Margaret was the first one. She came over to him by the tables on the side of the room to tell him.

  “Your talk was good,” she said.

  “Thank you,” said Billy. Then he gave her the wolf postcard. She liked it.