The Adventures of Button (2 page)

“There is something there. I did see it. Look!” Buttons tapped Ssserek with a forepaw.

He swayed to his words with his head cocked to one side.

“You see?” Buttons poked him again.

Ssserek tried to continue, “My great-great-great grandfather, ten times removed, once . . .” The rippling of muscles reached his head, and he looked down.

“Wha . . . wha . . . what is it now, little one?”

“There. You see. It’s moving and I hear noise.” Buttons was fairly jumping up and down against Ssserek’s side. “You see?”

“Yes, of course, I see. It’s always there.”

“Well, what is it?”

“Humph! I’d thought you would know.”

“Why should I? I’ve never seen one before.”

“Hardly seems possible, but you’ve probably passed it innumerable times while asking questions of some poor soul.”

“I really don’t think so.” Buttons looked up at Ssserek quizzically. “No, I don’t really think so. It’s much too fascinating for that, don’t you agree?”

“But, of course. I am rather attached to it, you know.” Ssserek grinned out the side of his mouth. “Really, you know, that’s rather good. I’ll have to run that by badger one of these days.”

Fairly hopping in one place, Buttons paid scant attention to Ssserek’s comments for her own world had been reduced to his tail. “What does it do?”

“Well, well, you see, it rattles. But then, what would a rattle do but rattle? It is becoming.”

“You always have it with you?”

“What?” Ssserek lowered his head and gazed intently at Buttons. It was not all that easy, the gazing that is, for Buttons was bouncing from one forepaw to the next. “Well,” Ssserek thought, “at least she is jousting. I think.” “I just told you, I’m very attached to it.”

“And, well, you should be. Can I go look at it? It won’t hurt, will it? Does it always make that much noise? Does it keep you awake at night? Does it play?”

Before Ssserek could respond, Buttons was off, racing down Ssserek’s side. He muttered to himself at such cavalier treatment. “Yes, you can look at it. It has never hurt me. And no, it doesn’t always make so much noise, though I’ve gotten rather accustomed to it. And no, it doesn’t keep me awake at night. Why should it? And good heavens, NO!” Ssserek jerked his head backways just as Buttons leaped.

Needle-sharp teeth sank into Ssserek’s tail just before the rattle, sending writhing muscular convulsions racing forward.

His head snapped upward and back, fangs glistening in the morning air. Buttons let go as the rattle whipped to and fro, sending gouts of dust skyward.

“This is great.” Her words came in the midst of her joyous efforts to once again capture the rattles which now eluded her best leaps.

Ssserek’s fangs stopped a fraction of an inch short of Buttons’s round, black posterior. “Good lord!,”he exclaimed. “What now?”

With her head down, Buttons lay in wait for each passage of the rattle. With each passage of the tail, she would leap, snarling at her prey, grunting with the effort. Back and forth. Up and down. Worse than leaves in a whirlwind, her small body rose into the air in swift, quick jerks, her teeth snapping ever more closely. The motion began to make Ssserek dizzy, watching the two tearing the grass into shreds in their frenzied efforts.

“My God, I’m getting positively giddy. I’m too old for this. I’m tired.” And Ssserek rested.

“Ahhhhhhhhhh.” The throat of snakes was not made for such verbal abuse, but the only other recourse was entirely too lethal, though Ssserek was sorely tempted as sharp, stabbing pains once again assailed his brain.

Ssserek’s blunt snout thudded into Buttons’s rear, sending her spinning head over heals through the grass. “Whewwww! Hey, that’s fun. Can we do it again?” Bouncing to her feet, she braced herself for another rush, only to find herself looking squarely into the face of Ssserek, whose tail was ringed with white and black. It was now rapidly sidling away from another painful confrontation.

“We will think about it.”

Buttons was by now moving alongside Ssserek’s head. “Open.”

“Wha . . . wha . . . what?”

“Open, you know, your mouth.” Buttons’s nose was nearly touching Ssserek.

Tilting his head ever so slightly, Ssserek slowly allowed a small slit to appear.

“No, no. Wider.” Buttons was bouncing up and down on her short front legs, attempting to get even closer. Again, Ssserek allowed more space to appear between his lips. “Come on,” Buttons insisted. “More.”

As his upper fangs dropped into view, they were greeted with “Ha, I thought so. They have holes in them. Do they hurt? Boy, are they big. Can I touch them?” Opening her own mouth, she continued, “See, Igateethtoo,” and with a snap, she grinned, “But no holes.”

Each time Ssserek moved his mouth aside, Buttons would move closer, until Ssserek was forced to raise his head out of reach. “No, no, my little sister, you must not touch. Ever.” He fixed his eyes on Buttons who sat with a puff of dirt.

“Well, but why not?” She dropped her head and the hurt was evident in her voice.

Ssserek took in a deep breath as he watched Buttons with both amusement and deep understanding. “They move, you see, and they might hurt you if we weren’t careful. I don’t want that. Do you?”

“No, of course not. You can touch mine if you wish. They’re sharp, though.”

Ssserek chuckled, “I believe you. Tell you what, let us never use our teeth in anger and in . . .” He looked back towards his tail. “Ummm, well, never in anger or to intentionally hurt. All right?”

“That’s neat,” Buttons responded, the entire matter forgotten as she gazed with some longing in the direction of Ssserek’s gaze.

“Boy, do you see that?” A small hushed voice broke into their contemplation.

Ssserek whirled around, whipping his head. The newcomer. Rare it was indeed when anyone could sneak up on him, and the thought that it had happened caused his rattles to whir like a hornet’s nest under attack.

“Whoa, Ssserek, you know we don’t taste good. Golly, I didn’t mean to bother you.” The voice was that of Isaiah, the skunk, and his tail twitched convulsively, torn between the great desire to depart the vicinity of Ssserek and the novelty of the scene before him.

Buttons, who had been standing against Ssserek’s smooth, glistening side, had slumped to the right haunch and sat, looking at the newcomer, with her left paw dangling at her side. What a scene!

Isaiah would repeat the tale many times in the future for no one had ever willingly put themselves within reach of Ssserek and his volatile temper.

The tip of Ssserek’s tongue was invisible as it flickered to and fro in the early morning sun. Then, it abruptly stopped, something it almost never did.

“Phew, you, my black-and-white friend, are welcome to approach. Downwind, of course, and I have mentioned that once before. You do remember?” His head dropped abruptly to directly confront Isaiah at his own level.

The sudden move sent the young skunk spinning backwards onto his tail. Whuffing, Isaiah regained his feet quickly. His composure only came later with due consideration of the situation.

“Yes, sir,” Isaiah respectfully replied. “But I didn’t expect to see Buttons so close, well, I mean, near, ah, with you, I mean. I forgot.”

“That’s because you’re a flibbertigibbit just like them birds!”

Beulah, the possum slowly sidled into the scene. “Good morning, your magnificence.”

Ssserek nodded in return as he raised himself to his most imposing height.

“And good morning to you, Mrs. Opossum. You’re out late, I see.”

“Like you, my fearsome eminence. The day appeared to be perfect for ambling in the field, what with all of the children asleep. But, you seem to be gathering all the young scatterbrains about you.”

“There she goes again.”

A very small, high-pitched voice appeared just above Ssserek’s head. “All that high and mighty stuff. Nauseating, I say.” Pip, with his wings a-blur as only hummingbirds can do, hovered just in front of Ssserek’s nose.

The flicking of his tongue matched Pip’s wings as Ssserek bent his gaze to the flashing green and gold of the small bird before him.

His humor coming to the fore, Ssserek smiled, “So, my slippery and garrulous young gadfly, Sasha, the milk snake did not find you in your nest last night?”

Ssserek’s chuckle was lost as Pip circled about his head in frenzied agitation. “What, what? Not nice, not nice. Joke not nice,” piped the flitting bird.

Ssserek’s smile was bad enough, his humor worse. “Come, come, my little gadabout. Sit. You’re making all of us dizzy just watching you.”

“Yes, please do,” came a chorus of voices from around them. By this time, Ssserek’s presence was known to many inhabitants of the Great Field. Chipmunk and squirrel, robin and blue jay, and even several field mice had gathered about, watching the unexpected activity.

The birds chirruped together, “Do sit, we so enjoy it.”

Pip, in sudden darting movements, moved about Ssserek’s head. Pip tilted side to side, and even upside down, the more carefully to inspect Ssserek and to gage his intention.

“Come, my huffy little hawk. It was only in jest.”

With a “Well, I forgive you this time,” Pip abruptly settled to Ssserek’s head. Fluffing his feathers, he haughtily surveyed his friends below. Of all the Great Field’s inhabitants, only Pip could touch Ssserek unscathed. Pip’s natural speed and maneuverability endowed him with an immunity no other could enjoy, given that he remained vigilant at all times. Pip flipped his iridescent wings to his back and stocked forward.

“Magnificent, truly unmatched.” With a sigh, he gazed serenely about him. With the barest of pauses—for a hummingbird, long indeed—he murmured to himself, “I really am.”

As Pip gazed at the world from his impressive height, the earth in front of Ssserek erupted. Mole stuck his head out of the soft, exploding red earth, piping in an irritated tone, “What, what’s going on? I was dozing when the earth started to shake something fierce. What’s this?” He moved, bumping into Ssserek’s broad body. Mole peered closely at the scaled form, “Hmm, most unusual, never seen anything like it. What is it?” he repeated himself to the world.

A small voice stuttered at some distance, “It’s Ss . . . Sss . . . Ssserek, you know, the snake.”

“Good creator of all animals, preserve me.” And suiting action to words, mole disappeared in a flurry of dirt.

Ignatius, a small, ragtag-of-a-ground squirrel, scratched himself unceremoniously. He paid scant heed to those sitting beside him and trying to get out of the way of flying hair. “You know, old mole can sure move when the spirit is upon him.” He cocked his head and looked impudently at Ssserek. “Well, snake, old boy, what do you think?”

Ssserek slowly measured the small squirrel in front of him. “I think your mother’s last thought must have been one of relief. Bless her old bones.” He burped ever so gently and nonchalantly tilted his head for a better view of the crowd now gathering.

Ignatius snickered, “Gave you indigestion, huh?” A runt, even among squirrels, he had learned to fend for himself at a very early age. Hence, there was little that was sacred to him, and one must pardon him for being an iconoclast, even in the presence of Ssserek. “Didn’t know I knew, huh?” Ssserek was slow in responding, well, at least in so far as Ignatius was concerned. “Well, huh. Huh?”

“My least of friends,” began Ssserek. The double-entendre caused him to pause, but only Buttons appeared particularly interested. Oh, well, he thought to himself, they are young. He began again, “My smallest . . .” No, that wouldn’t do, not with Pip standing astride his left eye. “Look, Iggie.” That really got Ignatius hopping up and down, his scraggly tail all a-fuzz with indignation. Thought that would get to him, Ssserek mused smugly to himself, but got no further.

Like the prow of a ship pushing ever-expanding waves to either side, Ribbon moved nonchalantly to sit before Ssserek. “Good afternoon, Ssserek, my renowed and rapacious snake of snakes. Iggie giving you any trouble?” Somewhat taken with herself because of the lovely alternating pattern of black and white stripes down her back, she delicately licked one paw.

“If you will move slightly to your right, my dear young lady, I could see your lovely stripes all the better.”