Once upon a time, there was a god. Like a new born baby,
this god awoke. And as he awoke, his eyes opened up to see.
And when he did, there became something to see. And he smiled.
And with his smile, what he saw, became to be good. And god began
to dream. And as he dreamed, what he saw became every more wondrous,
ever more complex, ever more detailed, differentiated and defined, in a
hundred thousand million billion ways. More definedjust like how
a scribble gets ever more scribbly with each more scribbly inch of ink
that a child's pen traces as it searches for new form.
A hundred thousand million billion years later, we find a tiny blue
green dot in the space of gods dream. And on this dot, there is a
little world. And on this world, there lives yet again a hundred
thousand million billion different things. Through these living things,
through these hundred thousand million billion eyes and ears and senses
and minds, god expresses his hunger and tries to know and see himself and
understand why he came to be, but never can.
And of these hundred thousand million billion living vibrating breathing
bouncy things, each had a hundred thousand million billion concerns of
their own, in their own teeny tiny worlds. There were trees that
raised their leaves toward the sun to soak up its warmth, and build its
cells so that they might grow taller and get more sun, to grow and grow,
but why? There were animals that foraged for food and played in the
grass and mated to carry on their genes so that their species may not cease
to exist, but why? There were people that went about in their daily
lives, to and fro, like the little busy ants they walked above, to rush
to build things that would fade away with time and decay, but why?
The cacophony of how god would try to find peace within himself, would
express itself in the lives of these rushy little people in most curious
ways, who thought, of the most oddest things, that they were independent
of god, outside of the very fabric of the dream, but in reality this could
really never be.
Some silly people would get in motor vehicles every morning, drive to
work, buy things to make them happy, and then come home and stare at a
glowy noisy box in the corner of their little rooms that seemed big to
them.
Some other silly people would sleep late, having no clue, but would
live to walk out every day to clean out another box at the end of their
drive way where other silly people keep stuffing pieces of paper into it
everyday, that never said anything good.
Some silly people labored hard to understand the fabric of gods dream,
with microscopes and particle accelerators and symbols scrawled out in
chalk and paper, but really, could never hope to find it because they were
asking the wrong questions in the first place.
Some silly people would dream and starve of love, searching endlessly,
but never learn, how to create it themselves.
Our story is about none of this. What our story is, is about a
little quail, a silly bird really, who lived under a bush, in his own tiny
world, on this tiny dot in space, in this vast dream called the space time
continuum.
This little quail, hidden under a bush, was the key, the answer if you
like, to god's search and intense hunger to know. Unfortunately,
god, for all his eyes and ears and minds, saw past this little quail, for
this bird was such an insignificant thread, such a lost faintly vibrating
detail, in the fabric of time.
Because you see, this little quail's mind was entirely blank.
This little quail entertained no mind to see himself. And so god
could not see him. He just was. He didn't think, he didn't
try, he didn't even feel compelled to change the world. He just be'd.
He didn't know why and he didn't feel compelled to know why. There
was no hunger inside of him that drove him. Instead there was peace.
He existed and he was happy.
The funny thing about everything except this odd and unique little quail
was, they felt, they must be in constant motion to solve a problem, to
create a change, to build a world. The motion occupies them, it blinds
them, and they can not understand, that maybe they don't have to go anywhere
else or do anything then where they are right then and their, with their
bodies or with their minds, to find the answer. The answer is right
there all along right where they are, right where they are standing.
They just have to be.
Bob, as his name was, this quail, upon first glance, to everyone would
be taken to be perhaps a shy bird, perhaps harmless, perhaps unmotivated,
perhaps even stupid. But Bob was a paradigm shift in feathers.
This silly little bird, who was an enigma, a quirk, in the space time continuum
of gods dream, understood something, that escaped and haunted god and all
the world that swirled around him.
It may of well that this was for the best, for all of what god dreams
is good, even his oversights. For you see, what if the universe were
to become aware of what Bob knew, the motion of life would find peace and
stop. That can no longer be, for the motion like everything inside
the dream, is part of the dream.
So begins our tale of Bob, Bob the Quail.
Chapter 1 - Bob Gets a New Sweater
It was a a warm spring morning. The sky was a warm orange turning
to bright blue, the sunshine was poking its tentative rays through the
woods and chasing away the sleepy shadows and mists and chills of the night.
Creature were stirring and beginning to go about their their day, brushing
away the sleepiness from their eyes. The sounds of song birds began
to fill the morning air.
Underneath a little bush in the forest of the Limberlost some life was
about to stir. The Limberlost was just a fancy way people thought
of that big old useless swampy forest over there.
A quail, our hero, sat sleeping and hidden under this bush. Around
its little bush were things it had picked up on its adventures and brought
home for no reason at all, perhaps only because they were pretty or held
some attachment. A piece of red string. A shiny bottle
cap one could see one's reflection in. A lost button from some coat.
A bed of twigs. A piece of unidentifiable fluff. A pretty
colored leaf. A funny shaped stick, and a blue marble.
Bob awoke. His eyes popped open wide and alert. "Bob
White!" he exclaimed excitedly. The woods did not answer him
back...
"Bob White!" he shouted again! Still, no answer.
Bob rustled his feathers, and stood up. Wow, another day.
I wonder what shall happen today? Bob wondered.
In a poky manner, maybe too fast for a little bird kind of way, Bob
strutted his way out of the bush, and down the deer path through the dew
covered forest. Along the way, he meets another quail, a female quail,
a quailette really.
"Why hello Bob..." greets Downy the Quailette.... as she
flutters he eyelashes at him and looks coy. "A fine morning we are
having, isn't it?"
"Bob White!" exclaims Bob in an excited manner. She
looks at him and smiles. "Aw, you say the sweetest things, Bob"
"You're always such a gentleman to me." She looks at Bob and
moves one of her feet behind the other... drawing scribbles in the
sand, and is silent.
"Bob White!" says Bob again as his head bounces around and his
eyes look a particularly vacant stare.
"The New Spring Dance?!", Downy says, "why Bob I was hoping you
were going to ask me? Oh Bob, I would be delighted to go with you!"
"Bob White!" chirps and bobs Bob, and suddenly he scurries down the
path. "I will see you there Bob!" shouts Downy behind him as
he scampers away like a silly bird. "Oh Bob, don't keep a girl waiting!"
She beams with pride as if she just had won some contest.
Downy lingers for a moment on the path and thinks to herself...
my that Bob sure is a handsome and charming fellow, isn't he. There's
just something about him... I can't put my feather on it...
is it the way he looks at her? No... that can't be it....
is the way his body moves and bobs up and down like a basketball?
No... perhaps the shy way he acts around her, or his rugged good looks?
No. It has to be the sweet things he says to her. Ah,
yes, its the sweet things he says to me... she sighs....
Bob always says such sweet things...
~
Bob scurries down the path, and rounds a turn, and comes to the Big
Field. Farmer Brown is leaning up against a fence post in his
big straw hat, with a piece of straw in his mouth and looking out at the
morning sunrise...
"Well a fine morning to you, Bob" exclaims Farmer Brown, as the straw
in his mouth dances around like a fishing bob dances in the water from
a lively little fish nibbling at some bait below.
"Bob White!" exclaims Bob in a nervous excited kind of way, as
he stands below dwarfed by the large stature of Farmer Brown in his big
clean overalls.
"Well all right then!" says Farmer Brown, "A fine morning to you,
MR. BOB WHITE then..." and he laughs.
"I suppose I will be feeding the cows again today and the pigs and chickens.
Oh my. Always chores to do, chores chores chores. But
it sure would be a fine day to go quail hunting wouldn't it!"
"Bob White!" exclaims Bob in an excited and nervous manner.
"Yes sirreee, nothing like the taste of a good quail on the dinner
table fixed up good with sugar sauce and greens by Mrs. Brown.
Yum! Yummy Yum Yum Yum!"
"Bob White!" shouts Bob. And he scampers along, down the path,
right under Farmer Browns legs to continue on his journey.
Farmer Brown is perplexed and he pauses... that's odd... thinks Farmer
Brown. Bob sure was acting a bit edgy this morning for some
reason. Farmer Brown scratches his head, and thinks, I better remind
myself to tell that bird next time I see him to lay off the coffee, or
at least switch perhaps to decaff!
~
Bob hurries down the path, his little feet scampering like a mad little
sewing machine in motion. As he does so, he comes to THE BIG OPENING,
and there is BIG OLD OAK of the forest. Out of the oak tree, Squirrely
Squirrel pokes his head and shouts to Bob "Hey Bob, over here!"
Bob scampers over, and enters the big opening at the base of the tree,
where he finds himself in Squirrely Squirrel's Store. All around
him inside the tree are wondrous things. A silvery shiny pop
top. A brass door knob. A plastic bag. A little tiny
blue bottle. A collection of pecan nuts. A shiny penny.
An old and worn piece of carpet.
But in the center of the room, is something he has never ever seen before.
Its an oddly shaped creature. Almost like a tiny Farmer Brown, but
not like Farmer Brown at all. Maybe like Mrs. Brown. It has
long hair, and its made of plastic, and its legs are unusually long, and
its shaped in such a strange odd way, like a human, but not human like
at all.
Around it is scattered all kinds of tiny little clothes and things.
A tiny brush. A purse. Something's Bob does not even know,
what they might be...
Squirrely Squirrel says "Hey Bob, you could comb your hair with this
if you had hair instead of feathers!" as he picks up the comb in his mouth
and laughs...
"How about these! These would look great on you!" Squirrely he
picks up some checkered pants and waves them at Bob. "I think checkered
plaid is your color!"
"Bob White! " exclaims Bob excitedly. "Oh, plaid is not
your color? Well, how about this white sweater then...." as
he picks up a tiny little knit sweater.
"Bob White!" exclaims Bob excitedly. "Great, sold it is then..."
says Squirrelly the Squirrel. "Which account should I charge it to
then?"
"Bob White!" exclaims Bob. "Great, here you go!" says Squirrelly.
Bob grabs the sweater with his beak and slips it on. He scurries
out the door in a poky quaily kind of way "Enjoy, and have a great
morning!" shouts Squirrelly behind him....
~
Bob pokes along the path, towards the big pond. Mr. Bunny Rabbit
passes him by the path, and greets him.
"My that sure is a neat looking sweater you got there, Bob!" says
Bunny.
"Bob White!" exclaims Bob. "White indeed you are!"
says Mr. Bunny Rabbit. "As white as my Bunny Rabbit powder
puff tail white you are!"
"Say Bob" says Bunny Rabbit "you sure do look very dignified and
upscale in that sweater. You would make a fine member in our exclusive
croquet club. How would you like to join our tea party this afternoon.
Shall I reserve you a place for tea?"
"Bob White!" exclaims Bob. "Very well, one spot reserved
for our most esteemed new guest, MR. BOB WHITE".
Bob scampers off hurried. Bunny Rabbit thinks to himself..
"what a fine important bird that Bob White is, always having some appointment
somewhere he must rush off to... I wonder why I never thought
earlier to sponsor him into the club?" Mr. Bunny Rabbit shrugs, and
puts his pocket watch back in his vest pocket.
"I suppose I best be off... I'm late, I'm late "
As he scampers down a rabbit hole pasted a bottle that says 'DRINK ME.
"At least I lost that odd curious little girl that was chasing me...."
thinks he...