The Duckbeave Platypus

Percy was a platypus. He had short brown hair and a long, flat tail like the paddle on a canoe. Percy lived in the Forest. It was a nice Forest with lots of twigs and bushes. Tall trees towered over the rocks and ponds and tall. Sometimes the sun would shine through the leaves and cast yellow light beams in the shadows. There were other animals in the Forest too: squirrels, chipmunks, porcupines, badgers, deer, birds, and some Percy didn’t even know about. Most of the animals were shy, and Percy was told not to talk to strangers. He spent his day swimming in his favorite pond and laying on the dry rocks near the trees. Percy followed his routine every day and was careful not to do anything unexpected.
One day while laying on his rock (it was his rock because he was laying on it), Percy felt something land on his front paw. It was small and round and felt like a pebble. Percy opened his lazy eyes. An acorn lay on the ground next to the rock, still spinning in circles from the fall. Percy shrugged his hairy shoulders and sighed. Seconds later another acorn fell, this time hitting the poor platypus in the forehead. Percy jumped in alarm (he seemed to have forgotten about the first acorn). Percy backed up, looking all around for whatever had hit him. His flat tail hit the trunk of a tree and he screamed.
“What?” A small voice squeaked from a branch above him.
Percy screamed again and ran behind his rock. (It was his rock because he was hiding behind it). He poked his head out.
“Wh-who’s there?”
“Whachya hiding behind there for silly?” Another voice spoke behind Percy and the poor platypus nearly jumped out of his fur. He crawled over to the tree and felt the rough bark tussle his fur. Percy was out of breath and scared. He wished he were still laying on his rock soaking up the last rays of sunlight. Suddenly Percy’s stomach growled; it was getting dark. He’d better start for home if he was to make it back in time for supper. He tiptoed in the direction of his house near the river. Percy was beginning to relax and think about the warm fire and smell of fish when he heard twigs break behind him. His heart jumped and his fur stood on end. His broad tail pounded the soft grass (a platypus’ tail shakes when it gets nervous). The loud pat-pat-pat of the leaves was all that Percy could hear and soon he decided it was just his imagination. His mother always said he had a big brain in a little head. Percy took two more steps and froze. Standing in front of him was a very odd little animal. It was round, or close to it, and had tiny little needles sticking out of its body. A wide grin showed tiny jagged teeth.
“Hewo! What’s yow name?” The little ball squeaked. A very strong drawl slurred its speech and turned all its r’s to w’s. “Yow not fwom awound hewe awe ya.”
Percy’s gulped. He’d never heard anyone talk like that before. In fact, he didn’t even know what the spiky thing was saying. So, he just stood there, tail patting and eyes bulging.
“Don’t weckon ya talk much do ya.” The small animal sat back on its haunches and stuffed a long blade of grass in its mouth.
“Well, wewe ya fwom? Did ya come all the way fwom the mountains? My mommy says the mountains have all kinds of weiwd animals up thewe.”
Percy had decided to keep moving when a small head peered up at him from between his legs. With a screech, Percy tripped on his feet and fell flat on his back. The ground was rather comfortable and had it not been for the late hour and his mysterious company, Percy might have fallen asleep. A small head peeked from behind a tuft of grass. It was brown and furry, with little round ears. Narrow whiskers darted back and forth and its tiny black nose was busy sniffing the air. Suddenly it spoke.
“Hewo!”
Percy sat up.
“Hel—hello.” Percy said.
“What awe ya doin’ way the heck ovew hewe?”
“I-I’m afraid I don’t know what you are saying.”
Percy had nearly forgotten about the spiny fellow until it came waddling over and lay down on his foot.
“Scratchews, I think he came all the way fwom the mountains. Look at his tail, it’s all funky and stuff. And his face, looks like his nose got smashed by a wock.”
Percy understood this last bit perfectly and it ruffled his fur. (Platypuses are very proud creatures and easily insulted). He jumped to his feet, throwing the other animals to the ground.
“Now, listen here! My tail is not funky, nor is my nose smashed. I am a duckbill platypus and I—“ Percy was interrupted by the squirrel.
“Quills, I bet he’s a beavew. He wooks wike a beaver. I knew a beavew once, he was mean and gwumpy, so that’s why I fink he’s a beavew.”
“His tail wooks wike a beavew.”
Percy understood this and was riled even more.
“I am not a beaver! Look, do I have teeth?”
The two rodents gazed up at Percy’s mouth and shook their heads.
“Can’t be a beavew, he doesn’t have any teeth!” Quills shouted.
“It looks like a duck’s mouth!” Scratcher chimed.
“Well, not exactly. I am a duckb—“ Again Percy was cut off mid-sentence and again Scratchers squeaked with glee.
“I knew it! He’s a duckbeave!”
Percy sighed. It was useless.
“Yes…yes I am a duckbeave—a hungry duckbeave.” Percy stepped past the two animals. “Now if you will excuse me, I really must be going. I am afraid I have already missed dinner.” His paws splished and slushed in the water of a small stream, and he shook them dry on the other side.
Scratchers and Quills waved their paws frantically and their whispers were loud enough for Percy to hear them from across the stream.
“He’s gwumpy Swatchews. I don’t know if I wike him.”
“Hush Quills. He might hear you! Duckbeaves are very dangerous. My dad said…”
Percy lost their voices to blowing leaves and chirping songbirds singing one last goodbye to the setting sun. He couldn’t help but smile. Platypuses were anything but dangerous. Not in all his years had Percy ever heard of a platypus attacking something; unless of course it was Primwald the Brave in the Battle of the Riverbank. Now there was an animal worthy of fear and respect. For three days he fought off the Forest animals and secured a home for the platypus. Percy’s heart jumped and face beamed at the thought of himself, alone and unafraid, battling hundreds of the tiny animals who had just disturbed his nap. These thoughts brought him to the bank of the River and kept his mind off his growling stomach. Percy waded through the cattails and riverweed. The cool water curled around his furry feet. He could tell by the bank he was too far downriver. A lump lodged somewhere deep in his throat as the last ray of purple sun disappeared behind the trees. Suddenly everything was still. Nearby a bullfrog croaked at its mate who answered from across the water. A shadow swooped through the air and a deep hoot echoed through the trees. Dusk was slowly turning to night and Percy was frightened. He had never been out so late before. He stuck his bill high into the air. Somewhere upriver someone was cooking fish and herbs. A deep determination came over Percy and he tread deeper into the River. The water crept up his belly and soon reached his neck. With a deep breath he dove under the dark water. Icy chills zoomed up and down his legs and his arms moved sluggishly in the cool water. Swimming upriver was never fun. One day last year Percy had tried it and nearly drowned. Luckily there was a school of salmon close at hand. Led by a rowdy swimmer named Sliver, the salmon had carried his flapping body to shore. That was the last time he’d tried it, and for good reason. Even his mother rarely undertook such a task. But, at the moment, it was a far better choice than parading through the brush after dark. Who knows what hungry beast hid in the clods and patches of thorns and thistles? With fierce determination and a stream of bubbles, Percy propelled himself into the constant current. A few times he was forced to dodge a wayward log and blockading rock. Figuring he had gone far enough, Percy swam steadily to the surface. His head broke the water, sending small ripples to fade out downstream. The smell of fish was stronger now, and Percy caught the faintest hint of smoke behind the riverweed. A quick splash from his paw sent water into his nostrils. He spurted. Muscles sore and lungs tired, Percy collapsed into the murky water that surrounded the cattails.
“Percy? Percy is that you?” The voice was calm and warm, like a sunny day on the rocks near the pond. It was his mother’s voice. He was home.

The morning sun reflected off the water like lightning bugs in a dark sky. Birds chirped and frogs ribbited. Percy rolled over in his soft bed of moist dirt. With a sigh he sat up and stroked the back of his neck. It was time for a new pillow. Percy held his old one in his lap, the long strands of grass torn and frayed. The soft honeysuckle had died and crackled under pressure. Percy sniffed it. The scent of sweat and wet fur overwhelmed that of dried grass and faint thistle petals. He would tell his mother on his way out. She would make him a new one—she always did.
He approached his mirror, (A smudged boat mirror, he’d found in the river) and smiled. Today was fishing day. With a twinkle in his eye he put on his fishing hat and grabbed his fishing pole. The long, slender stick banged against the wall as he tried to squeeze through the doorway. His mother looked up from her knitting with a smile.
“Fishing day is it darling?”
“Yes, mum, and I’m going to catch a big one—just for you.” He waddled across the homey living room and planted a soft platypus peck on her cheek.
“Percy, your breath smells like sewage! You go in and rinse your mouth! I picked up some peppermint leaves yesterday from Higgins Farm. Go!”
Percy chuckled to himself and fetched the leaves. They tasted very sweet and his mouth felt very cold. While his mother wasn’t looking, Percy spit the last of the leaves into the wastebasket.
“All done mum! I’m heading out!”
“Not before you take out the garbage young man. And do try to be back before dark. I was a worried mess last night. You remember what happened to your father.”
Percy bent his head to the ground.
“Yes mum. I remember.”
The bag of trash was really two lily pads sewn together and Percy hoisted it over his shoulder. With garbage in one hand and fishing pole in the other, he bid farewell to his mother and went out the door. Most forest animals dump their waste in the river or near the Black Rock. But Percy’s mom refused to filth the river and wouldn’t allow Percy within two hundred yards of the Black Rock. The roaring cars were much too frightening for a platypus to handle.
Whistling a tune his mother had sung to him, Percy walked down the path to the garbage hole. Not many platypuses can whistle, but Percy loved the birds more than any other animal in the forest and had practiced till he was blue in the face. Last summer a very polite robin heard him sputtering and spitting and gave him the best advice a whistler could hope for.
“It’s all in the tongue.” The robin had said.
After that, Percy could whistle any tune faster than you could say ‘platypus pie’.
The path became grassier as he approached the garbage hole. Percy laid his fishing pole gently against the raised stones. With a grunt, he heaved the bag into the gaping mouth and watched as it bounced against the walls before disappearing into the darkness. A loud splash echoed back up the hole and Percy shouted.
“Hello!”
“Hello-hello-ello-llo-lo-o”
Percy loved echoing and after several more shouts he retrieved his stick and plodded onward. The trail was nothing more than a narrow footpath now. Grass and weeds lined the edge, threatening to invade the well-trodden trail.
Percy’s stride grew faster and more confident as he got further and further into the forest. Morning in the forest was Percy’s favorite time of day. A soft haze clung to the trees and bushes, misting the thirsty leaves. Percy’s paws were dripping from the dew and once in awhile a drop would fall from a leaf high above. The birds were awake and chirping, preparing for the busy day. Nearby, a hungry squirrel scampered up a fir tree and a deer munched quietly at a shaded clover patch. Everything was alive and happy. Even the bees seemed content with their buzzing and swishing among the flowers.
Soon Percy came to the stream he had crossed yesterday. He remembered the two tiny animals that had interrupted his nap. His mother would have yelled at them.
“Platypuses never talk to strangers, and strangers never talk to platypuses.”
Percy had heard her say that a dozen times, once to a rather cross badger who stumbled into their yard.
Up ahead, Percy could see the pond. The sun shone on the calm water, warming the lily pads and the dragonflies. Percy loved the dragonflies. He watched as they darted atop the flowers and cattails, chasing flies and water spiders. The ground near the pond was damp and squished under his feet. Percy leaned his fishing stick against his rock and dropped to his knees. He sang a song he wrote one sunny afternoon. It was a simple song with very little rhyme.



Where are you little worms?
Little worms to catch a fish
Where are you friendly worms?
Friendly worms to bait a hook

Percy’s hands dug deep into the mud. Fishing was his favorite thing to do (other than nap of course), and every week he caught at least four big perch. Today, however, he was determined to beat his record. Percy smiled. Today, he was going to catch seven fish.
“That will take a lot of worms.” He muttered.
His eyes squinted as he searched the muddy shore for signs of the creepy crawlers. Suddenly, he felt something wet and slimy wriggle against his hand. Quick as a frog’s tongue, Percy grabbed it and pulled. The brave worm gave a slight struggle before Percy pried it from the dirt.
“Gotcha.” Percy lifted the worm high into the air. It was very long and quite fat. Percy was careful not to let it wriggle away as he hurried to his pole. The string blew in the wind with the end tied tight to the hook.
“There we go. Catch me a fish friendly worm.” With a squish, Percy put the juicy worm on the hook and climbed onto his rock. His legs kicked up and down in anticipation as he raised his arm, ready to cast into the pond.

To catch a fish
The greatest wish
To beat my score
And then catch more!

Percy belted the song out loud; scaring away the birds perched on the branch above him. Even the dragonflies were disturbed from their sunbathing.
A quick flip of his arm sent the worm sailing through the air. The line unfurled like a spider’s web. A soft –plop- was all Percy heard and with a deep sigh, he stretched out on the rock, holding the pole tight in his hand. Seconds turned to minutes as Percy lay under the sun, resting his eyes and waiting for the slightest tug on the line. After a while, Percy sat up.
“I should have had a bite by now.” He mumbled.
Percy pushed his hat out of his eyes and checked the line. All seemed well. Percy shrugged his shoulders and sat back down. His stomach growled and he realized he forgot to bring a lunch. Things were not going very well, and this was supposed to be a fun day. He had no fish, no lunch, and now a fluffy white cloud blocked the sun. It was time for a pity party. Percy plopped onto the rock and folded his arms. He mumbled under his breath and kicked at the moss clods growing near his feet. The cloud didn’t move, the fish didn’t bite, and his stomach growled more than ever. His pity party wasn’t working.
Suddenly his hand moved a tiny bit. Then it moved a tiny bit more. Percy gripped the pole tightly just as it jerked hard toward the pond.
“I’ve got a bite! I’ve got a bite!”
Percy pulled as hard as he could on his slender pole. He felt the wood cracking as it bent low to the ground. Percy could see something very big moving around under the water.
“THIS IS A BIG FISH!” Percy grunted and his face turned red from the exercise. His feet slid along the rock, scattering pebbles into the water. With a desperate lunge he threw his body backward. Whatever was at the other end of the line did the same and after an awkward moment of falling, Percy was jolted forward and fell face first into the water. Mud flew and water splashed. Percy pulled his bill out of the water and froze. Just a few feet in front of him was the very large head of a very large fish. Its mouth gaped open and its eyes bulged. The fish was gray with white streaks and a bright sparkle from the sun. Above the fish’s lip there was Percy’s hook, and attached to Percy’s hook, was Percy’s fishing line. Percy wiped the mud from his eyes and spurted water out his nose.
“Excuse me good platypus.” The fish spoke in a deep, educated voice.
“Y-yes?” Percy was surprised. The last fish he’d talked to was the salmon when he was little and they talked very squeaky.
“It seems some ornery bloke has thought it necessary to bait me with a fat, juicy worm. Would you mind helping me out?”
“Ummm…” Percy paused. Just then the fish saw the pole in his hand. Percy never knew fish could frown, but as the large fish in front of him saw the pole floating in the water, a deep scowl crossed its face.
“I never! The nerve of some people, and to think it came from a platypus.” The fish shook its large head sending ripples against Percy’s chin. Percy opened his mouth to speak but was cut off by the fish’s further ramblings.
“And I thought platypuses were respectable creatures. We fish were content to be the food of such a noble critter but now it seems we have been mistaken.”
Percy thought for a few moments and replied.
“I-I’m sorry. It’s just that…did you say ‘noble’?”
“Yes. Platypuses have always treated us fish with respect, giving us the chance to defend ourselves. Bears come from no where and birds wait for us to catch the bugs on the water. We don’t have much trouble with badgers, but when we do they are so...so badgering!” The fish growled under his breath. “But none of them stoop so low as to bait us and pull us up by the mouth! Do you have any idea how degrading it is to be dangled from the water like a fly in a spider’s web.”
A fly buzzed above Percy’s head and shouted a rebuke at the fish before scooting away toward the lagoon. Percy swallowed hard and looked around in embarrassment. The forest was quiet and Percy sighed in relief. At least no one else was witnessing this affair. He turned toward the fish and spoke very calmly.
“I do beg your pardon, but I have fished here for years and never had any problems. I didn’t think there were any talking fish in this pond.”
“No talking fish? How absurd! Why, all fish can talk just the same as you! It’s just that when one is dangling from the jaw and carried away like a trophy, it becomes rather hard to catch ones breath let alone speak!” The fish folded its long fins. Percy’s mother did this when she was cross (but she folded her arms rather than her fins for platypuses do not have fins).
“I’m terribly sorry. I-I was just—“
“Don’t bother! And do not think for a second we fish easily forget such matters. I assure you, catching fish will be much harder now that you have lost our trust! Good day to you platypus!”
The fish disappeared in an angry swirl of foam and water, the hook still stuck firmly in his lip. Percy stared after it and winced as his pole struck the back of his head before vanishing into the depths of the pond.
A few seconds later, Percy was sitting in the water looking around, confused and a little frightened. He had never been in trouble by anyone but his mother, and he didn’t like it one bit. Percy looked at the rock. It didn’t seem very sunny. He looked at the pond. He didn’t feel like fishing. He felt his stomach. He definitely didn’t feel like eating. The only thing he felt like doing was sleeping. Percy stood up and shook the water from his fur. Head spinning and feet freezing, he scuttled onto the rock. He spun in circles several times before finding a comfortable position. His head rested on his legs and his back leg scratched at the moss. Percy’s eyes were heavy but just before he closed them; he caught the faintest hint of movement on the surface of the pond. His head perked up and he stared. For a few minutes he couldn’t decide if it was a snake or a stick, but as it floated closer he sighed. It was his fishing pole.
Percy dreamed of an army of fish attacking him while he struggled to swim upstream. In his dream an owl landed on his head and pecked his tiny ears. The weight of the owl pushed him farther underwater. Percy tried to breathe but he couldn’t. The water was everywhere. He was drowning.
Percy woke with a cough. Nearby an owl hooted in a tree and raindrops splashed down from the branch above. Suddenly Percy sat up. He had slept too long—it was dark. Percy wanted to cry. He wanted to run home as fast as he could, but it was too dark to wander the forests. His mother was right. He couldn’t forget what happened to his father. A sharp noise echoed among the trees causing Percy to shrivel into a small, furry ball. His large eyes darted from tree to tree expecting to see some ghoulish creature ready to feast on his fatty legs. But, no such beast appeared and Percy managed to stand to his feet. He sniffed the air. This time there was no scent of baked fish and no welcome from his mother. He was alone.
Percy didn’t know what to do. If he stayed here he could be eaten but if he started for home he would surely be eaten. Platypuses are not well equipped for a struggle and Percy was not the type to go searching for danger. With great hesitation and worry, Percy decided it best to stay on his rock. There was some comfort in the familiar surroundings, although the rock had long since gone cold from the lack of sunlight and spiders were pouring from their holes, ready to feast on any lost insects. The full moon crept over the tree branches and cast a very scary glare on the pond waters. The cattails swirled in a cool breeze, whistling a dark and eerie melody. Somewhere in the distance Percy heard a howl. It was long and sad but made the hair on his neck stand up like fresh reeds along the riverbank. The howl grew closer. Percy again found himself curled into a ball, shaking with fear. Suddenly, something sharp pricked Percy in the hindquarters, causing the poor platypus to jump nearly three feet in the air. The sound that escaped his mouth is best described as a squawk and with a thud he landed back on the rock. Eyes white and mouth open, Percy spun to confront his attacker. He whispered a silent goodbye to his mother as he turned. However, when he saw the perpetrator, Percy nearly burst with relief. Crouched near the bottom of Percy’s rock were the two mangy rodents who had interrupted his nap yesterday afternoon. The spiny one was rubbing his buttocks while the furry one held a sharp needle high into the air.
“Pssst.” The furry one whispered, looking around as if hiding from some ferocious beast.
“What are ya doing out here silly? Don’t you know its dangewuss?”
The spiny fellow simply rubbed his butt and shook with fear. Rub, shake. Rub, shake. Finally Percy replied.
“Well, I can't go home! It’s dark!”
“Shh!” The furry one held the spine up to its lips. “Don’t be so loud! He might hear you!”
Percy did not like the way she said ‘he’. He swallowed the familiar lump that grew in his throat when he became nervous.
“W-who’s He?” Percy’s voice was barely audible as he bent closer to the ground.
“Him!” The furry rodent’s eyes grew wide and its fur stuck out in all directions. The needle was pointed behind Percy, away on the other side of the pond.
Percy didn’t think he wanted to turn around, but the urgency of the furry friend forced him to look. On the farthest edge of the pond was the biggest wolf Percy had ever seen (he’d only seen two in his life, but this was much bigger than normal he was sure). It’s head was down and the pond rippled from its tongue as the large brute lapped its full. The wolf’s fur was black and it stood out like a bluebird on a snowy day. The wolf raised its head and sniffed the air. Percy had slid down the rock, and was watching from behind with the two furry pests.
“It’s Wegaw.” The spiny critter was barely able to speak, and when he did Percy looked at the squirrel for an explanation.
“He said, ‘It’s Regar’.”
Percy was as confused as ever and shrugged his shoulders. He poked his head from behind the boulder. The wolf was laying down in a grove of clover on the pond’s edge.
“You mean you don’t know who Regar is?”
Percy shook his head.
“You mean you don’t know who the most fearsomest hunter in all of Forest is?”
Percy again shook his head, this time with more urgency.
“You mean you—“
This time it was Percy who interrupted.
“NO! I don’t know who Regar is!”
Suddenly all three animals held there breath. Percy covered his mouth with his hands and gasped. They all risked a look across the pond and they all froze in unison. The wolf was gone. Not knowing whether to run, scream, or both, Percy just covered his head with his hands and cried. He was a platypus. He didn’t want to be scared. He just wanted to be at home with his mum and his old pillow. The squirrel tapped him on the shoulder and motioned for him to follow. Percy did so reluctantly. One after the other they tiptoed across the forest floor toward a gigantic oak tree. Its roots rose out of the ground, long tentacles that dove back underground after forming a sort of cage. Percy was relieved to notice that it was big enough for them all to fit, and after a bit of squeezing on his part, they were all snug and warm under the walls of roots and leaves.
“Can it get in here?” Percy asked, still holding tight to the squirrels small shoulder.
“Not unless it can shrink or grow some beaver teeth—no offense.”
“I’m not a—“ Percy was shushed by the spine’s shriek.
The massive wolf was sniffing around Percy’s boulder. Something was in its mouth and as it turned toward the tree Percy gasped.
“My hat! That thieving bully stole my hat!”
His outburst was met with several shushes and a few elbows from the squirrel. Percy was forced to watch in silence as the wolf shredded his favorite fishing hat to pieces. Suddenly the wolf sniffed at a patch of leaves, then a stick, and then it looked right at the cowering trio under the roots. A sharp snarl showed ghost-white teeth and Percy felt the squirrel shudder.
“He’s got our scent, that he does for sure. I told you we oughtta of took a bathe Quills. You know he smells those mushrooms we ate this morning.”
“Scwatchews, I’m afwaid. I don’t want to be eaten by Wagew.”
“We’re not gonna get eaten Quills don’t you worry.”
Percy looked at Scratchers who shot him a very frightened, very worried stare. The lump returned, this time bigger ever. No matter how he tried, Percy couldn’t swallow it. It was stuck.
“If he starts to get in, we gotta run for it. My house isn’t very far from here, we can make it if we run.”
Scratchers voice shook no matter how she tried to cover it up. Quills just vibrated and whimpered when he caught his breath. Percy was worried. Quills was small enough to fit in a squirrels house, but Percy was more than four times their size. There was no way he would fit.