From the Burrow: Those strange Talking Boxes   Leave a comment

The men say there are more and more people (I think that’s another word for men) who want to talk and listen to the stories we tell about the forests and fields and all those that live there. I don’t understand how all these people can hear what we have to say – all I know is I say things into the talking box, and somehow it understands what I say and then the men can understand too. I’ve never seen the men talk into the talking box, so they must have some other way to tell their stories. Sometimes the men come into the forest and they have much smaller boxes that they stare at and hit with their hands. The boxes have a shiny place, like water, but it doesn’t move or drip off of the box, and sometimes it’s light like the sun but other times it’s black as night. The men rest their hands on the part of the box that isn’t shiny, and the box makes ‘click click click’ sounds like beetles or crickets at night. But I’ve asked a few, and there are no beetles that understand these ‘click clicking’ sounds so it must not be important.

All the time the men have this small box, they are looking at the shiny part – even when they aren’t hitting it and making the ‘clicky’ sounds – and sometimes they talk to the box and the box talks back (but in man-talk that I don’t understand). Every time they come to the forest, the men move away a part of the big talking box, take out a small flat rock (that really looks much too flat to be a rock, but it’s probably a man-thing), and put the rock into the side of the smaller box. Then the men hit the small box with their hands and make the ‘clicky’ noises, but then put the small box down and talk between themselves or take out an even smaller box and do something with it, or look at me carefully and sometimes put long sticks with little stripes on them on the ground next to me and shine bright lights in my ears and things like that. I thought the sticks might be a treat and tried to chew one once but the men said it wasn’t for marmots. Maybe the men are trying to play but actually it’s just annoying.  I’d run away if it all wasn’t so interesting. Then after a time the men go back to the smaller box where they put the little rock, take it out of the small talking box, put it back into the big talking box, and move everything on that box where it was before. So it’s almost like this little talking box talks in man-talk, but the bigger box the men left in the forest just listens and somehow the men can get it to talk to them later. I don’t know what the very shiny, small flat rock-like thing is supposed to do. It’s quite the mystery and someday I’ll get to the bottom of what this is all about.

But what’s most important, is I want to thank everyone who listens to our stories and is interested in the forest and fields and best of all, wants to help animals and men all live together in the world. When you live where there a lots of trees and big, bright sky and plenty of rocks and gravel and sand to dig into, (and even sometimes scary things like forest fires and men that leave behind bad things that make water taste bad and hurts the plants), it’s easy to think that everyone in the world has trees to look at and grass to run on and fresh flowers to eat. But the men say many people live in ‘cities’ that are crowded and noisy and fires and pain and other dangers every day. So I am very, very thankful that I can talk to you about my home and the animals I share this world with. I hope you come back all the time to read our stories and maybe you can even tell me about you and how you live. (I don’t really believe some of those ‘cities’ things the men say. I think they are just making it worse that it could ever possibly be).

– Michonne

Posted July 19, 2012 by Michonne Marmot in View From the Burrow

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