Into the Wild

  For the McCarthy clan, with love

  —D. C.

  For Kevin. Sincere thanks for all the help on this.

  —S. G.

  Introductions

  Welcome to the yard!

  The name is John Joseph Tully; J. J. for short. I was a search-and-rescue dog for seven years, but my days of dangerous missions and daring rescues are behind me. Sure, I miss being a hero, but Barbara’s backyard is an okay kind of place once you get used to it. Everybody knows the rules—and everybody follows ’em. Except for the chickens, and the neighbor who likes to run his power saw a little too early in the morning. Luckily, somebody keeps chewing through his extension cord—but I don’t know anything about that.

  As for the chickens, I found them on the clothesline this morning, blowing in the wind between the socks and the pillowcases. Here they are:

  Dirt: Short, yellow, fuzzy

  Real Name: Peep

  Specialty: Foreign languages, math, colors, computer codes

  Sugar: Short, yellow, fuzzy

  Real Name: Little Boo

  Specialty: Breaking and entering, interrupting

  Poppy: Short, yellow, fuzzy

  Real Name: Poppy

  Specialty: Watching the shoe (will explain later)

  Sweetie: Short, yellow, fuzzy

  Real Name: Sweet Coconut Louise

  Specialty: None that I can see

  “How did you get up there?” I asked them.

  “Wouldn’t you love to know?” replied Sugar.

  “How long do you plan on staying up there?” I asked.

  “Until we have to pee,” said Sweetie.

  “Wait, were we supposed to get down to pee?” asked Poppy.

  Well, that’s about all the chicken I can take in one day. They got themselves up there; they’ll get themselves down. They’re all yours. I have an extension cord to chew (but you didn’t hear it from me . . .).

  Chapter 1

  I got a bad feeling about that new box over there,” said Sugar. She pointed to a strange wooden structure on the other side of the yard. It stood on tall legs a few feet off the ground.

  “Why?” asked Dirt.

  “Why would Barbara sneak a weird box into our yard under the cover of night? What doesn’t she want us to know? What is she hiding?”

  “Actually,” said Dirt, “Barbara’s been out there hammering and sawing and building every single afternoon for the last two weeks.”

  “I think I would have noticed that, Dirt,” said Sugar. She hopped up onto the picnic bench. “I’m very observant.”

  “She also dismantled our chicken coop yesterday and moved it to the other side of the yard.”

  “I think I would have noticed that, Dirt,” said Sugar.

  “You may have been napping,” suggested Dirt.

  “What I hear you saying,” said Sugar, “is that Barbara built a top-secret box and then top secretly moved our chicken coop far, far away from it. That’s what I hear you saying. . . .”

  “I didn’t say that . . . ,” said Dirt.

  “Fine,” answered Sugar, “but that’s what I heard.”

  “Okay, well, why don’t we just go take a closer look? There’s a ramp that leads right up to the front of the box,” suggested Dirt. “Maybe we can get some more information.”

  “We have no idea what kind of wild creature is in there!” said Sugar. “All we know for sure is that whatever it is, it is very, very dangerous.”

  “How do we know that?” asked Dirt.

  “If it wasn’t wild and dangerous, why would Barb keep it in a box? Only wild, dangerous animals are KEPT IN BOXES!”

  “But we live in a box,” said Dirt, “and we’re not dangerous.”

  “Speak for yourself,” replied Sugar.

  “Anyway,” said Dirt, “I think what we need to do here is observe and investigate.”

  “What I hear you saying,” said Sugar, “is that this is an extremely dangerous situation, lives are at stake, and we should proceed with caution. That’s what I hear you saying. . . .”

  “I didn’t say that,” said Dirt. “I didn’t say that at all.”

  “Fine,” said Sugar. “But that’s what I heard.”

  Chapter 2

  Here are the facts,” announced Sugar. She pointed to the diagram on the chicken-coop wall.

  “Barbara was attacked by a wild animal and barely managed to escape. She somehow captured the dangerous beast and has secured it in a top-secret maximum-security box. We are all in imminent danger.”

  “Those are not facts,” said Dirt. “A fact is something you know for sure. All of what you just said is pure speculation.”

  “Listen, pal,” said Sugar. “You don’t know what I know, and I don’t know what you know. Agreed?”

  “These are the actual facts,” continued Dirt. She said them out loud as she listed them on the wall:

  1. There is a new box in the yard.

  2. Barbara built it herself out of wood and wire.

  3. It has a latch on it.

  4. We don’t know what’s in it.

  “Why don’t we just go look?” suggested Sweetie.

  “Oh, kid,” sighed Sugar. “You can’t just walk up to a top-secret maximum-security box and peek in it! Something might jump out of it! You have to watch the creature—get a feel for how it lives and what it’s thinking.”

  “You mean spy on it?” asked Sweetie.

  “Of course not!” said Sugar. “I mean hide ourselves at a safe distance and watch everything it does while making sure it never sees us. The technical term is surveillance, otherwise known as a ‘stakeout.’ A dangerous mission, for sure, but—”

  “Sounds like spying,” interrupted Sweetie.

  “I prefer observing,” said Dirt.

  “AS I was saying,” continued Sugar, “surveillance is dangerous work. You’ll be tired; you’ll be hungry; and you’ll see things a chicken should never see.” She turned to her sister. “Dirt, walk us through. . . .”

  Dirt stepped up to the wall. “Sugar and I,” she began, “will be up here in the maple tree. It will give us good cover, and we’ll have a clear view of the box.”

  “Got it,” said Sugar.

  “Sweetie, you’re next. You’ll be observing from the gutter that runs along the back edge of the house. It’s a different angle, so you might be able to see things that we can’t see.”

  “Got it,” said Sweetie.

  “Poppy,” said Sugar. “You stay with the shoe. If the creature spots us, it might get angry and agitated. If I whistle, you run and get Mom or J. J. for backup. Got it?”

  “Got it,” said Poppy.

  “But if I hoot like an owl,” explained Sugar, “that just means I’m hungry and you should bring me more marshmallows.”

  “Got it,” said Poppy. “Wait, you have marshmallows?”

  “Stick with me here! But if you hear a honking sound,” added Sugar. “That means I’m chilly and you should bring me a sweater.”

  “Got it,” said Poppy.

  “But if I make a quacking sound like a duck—” started Sugar.

  “Let’s move on,” interrupted Dirt.

  “What I hear you saying,” said Sugar, “is that I’ve given Poppy too many noises to keep track of and I should probably keep things simple. Not to mention, owls are nocturnal and do not hoot during the day. . . .”

  “That’s actually exactly what I meant,” said Dirt, surprised.

  “Say what you mean, kid,” said Sugar. “SAY WHAT YOU MEAN.”

  Sugar pulled four baggies out of a box and gave one to each chicken. “I’ve taken the liberty of putting together spy kits for each of you. Inside it you’ll find an observation log, binoculars, marshmallows, and a fake mustache.”

 
“I thought you said we weren’t spying!” said Sweetie.

  “Pipe down, kid,” whispered Sugar. “I don’t know how to spell ‘surveillance.’ ”

  “Now let’s head out,” said Sugar. “Keep your eyes open, write everything down, and we’ll meet back here in three minutes.”

  “Do you think three minutes is enough time to observe and gather information, Sugar? Or—” asked Dirt.

  “This is SERIOUS BUSINESS, kid,” interrupted Sugar. She turned around wearing her fake mustache and a belt made out of marshmallows. “Your obsession with details is going to undermine all our observations!”

  Dirt opened her beak to say something, but she changed her mind.

  Chapter 3

  What is it?” asked Sugar, sitting behind her sister. “A polar bear? A lion? A shark?” Dirt and Sugar had a clear view from a tree limb about fifteen feet above the ground.

  “The box is in the shade, and whatever is inside the box, it’s kind of grayish, so I can’t make it out. But I don’t think it’s big enough to be a polar bear or a lion. And, well . . . I’m pretty sure we can rule out a shark in a box.”

  “Sharks can be gray,” said Sugar. “And we haven’t observed long enough to rule anything out just yet. KEEP AN OPEN MIND!”

  “I’m ruling out shark,” said Dirt.

  “Suit yourself. What is the not-a-shark doing?” asked Sugar impatiently.

  “I can see a flash of white and what I think is a food bowl. I think it’s chewing,” said Dirt, her binoculars trained on the box.

  “Write that down,” said Sugar. Dirt lowered her binoculars and picked up the observation log.

  A few seconds went by.

  “What’s it doing now?” asked Sugar.

  Dirt picked her binoculars back up. “Chewing,” she said.

  “Write that down,” said Sugar. Dirt lowered her binoculars and picked up the observation log.

  A few seconds went by.

  “What’s it doing now?” asked Sugar.

  Dirt picked her binoculars back up. “Chewing,” she repeated.

  “Write that down,” said Sugar. “Sharks chew. Are you sure it’s not a shark?”

  “Wouldn’t it be easier if I just tell you what I see and you write it down in the log?” said Dirt.

  “No one said surveillance was easy, kid,” answered Sugar. “If I do all the work, how will you learn anything?”

  Dirt shook her head and turned her attention back to the binoculars.

  “It stopped chewing,” announced Dirt.

  “Write that down,” said Sugar. “Every detail is important.”

  Sugar and Dirt sat in silence for a minute. Then Sugar took out her own binoculars and focused on the box.

  “Time to call it a day, kid. Three minutes is up.”

  “I’m still not sure three minutes is enough time to really observe something and gather information,” said Dirt.

  Sugar turned around, her mouth full of marshmallows. “Forget the time!” she mumbled. “Let me see the log.” She read Dirt’s entries out loud:

  Watching the creature,

  Chewing, chewing, chewing, stop.

  I like carrots, too.

  Watching the creature,

  Hopping, hopping, hopping, stop.

  Are you dangerous?

  “I bring you to your first stakeout and you spend all your time writing poetry?” Sugar slammed the observation log closed.

  “It was an accident,” said Dirt.

  “Poetry is never an accident, kid,” replied Sugar.

  Dirt opened her beak to say something, and then she changed her mind.

  “I don’t want to embarrass you in front of the squad,” said Sugar, lowering her voice, “but I didn’t see the hopping you claim to have seen in your log. You might want to take that part out before we report back to headquarters.”

  “You may have been napping,” said Dirt.

  “Happens on surveillance all the time, kid.” Sugar chuckled. “Especially the long ones.”

  Dirt stared at Sugar for a moment and then packed up her binoculars and observation log. She waited until her sister was out of earshot.

  “Three minutes,” she muttered to herself. “Three minutes!”

  Chapter 4

  Listen up, squad!” said Sugar. “The bad news is we still have no idea what’s in the box. The other bad news is Dirt used all her surveillance time to write poetry.”

  “I didn’t do it on purpose!” protested Dirt.

  Sugar rolled her eyes. “So unless Sweetie observed something we didn’t, I’m pretty sure we will never get close enough to the box to find out what’s in it, and we should proceed as if it is a dangerous, wild animal—possibly a shark—and we are all in imminent danger.”

  “We ruled out shark!” yelled Dirt.

  “No, kid, YOU ruled out shark, and I’m not completely comfortable with that. . . .”

  “Sweetie,” sighed Dirt. “Can you read us what you have in your observation log?”

  “No,” replied Sweetie.

  “Why not?” asked Dirt.

  “Spying is wrong,” said Sweetie. “I climbed up to the gutter, just like you said, but I felt funny watching someone without his or her permission. So I slid down the pipe, rolled across the lawn, and came back here.”

  “How did we miss that?” asked Dirt.

  “Apparently, I wasn’t the only one napping,” replied Sugar.

  “But, based on your observations,” continued Sweetie, “it sounds to me like there is a rabbit in the box.”

  “Why in the world would you say that?” demanded Sugar.

  “Dirt’s poem about chewing and hopping,” answered Sweetie. “That’s what rabbits do.”

  “I told you it was poem,” grumbled Sugar.

  Dirt paced back and forth excitedly. “So your hypothesis based on our observations is that the creature in the box is a rabbit!”

  “So what I hear you saying,” remarked Sugar, “is that three minutes of skillful observation was plenty of time to gather information, form a hypothesis, AND take a nap! That’s what I hear you saying!”

  “I think what I’m saying is that if it eats like a rabbit and hops like a rabbit, it’s probably a rabbit,” said Sweetie.

  “You’ve come a long way, kid,” said Sugar.

  “Thanks, sis!” said Sweetie.

  “All right, kid,” said Sugar, “enough blubbering.”

  “Rabbits aren’t dangerous, are they?” asked Poppy.

  “Not at all,” replied Sugar. “Unless you’re a carrot.”

  “Then why is it in a box?” asked Poppy.

  “Rabbits are helpless,” explained Sugar. “They can only eat salad; they can’t handle the stairs; and I’m pretty sure the ears are just for show.”

  “Uh-oh!” cried Dirt from the door. “We have a really big problem!”

  “We sure do, kid,” said Sugar. “I think I just ruined Easter for Poppy.”

  “No! Look!” said Dirt. “Look at the rabbit box! The door is wide open, and the rabbit is gone!”

  “Oh no! Poor bunny!” cried Sweetie. “It will never survive on its own!”

  “We’re going after it!” declared Sugar. “Grab the emergency-survival kits!”

  “We don’t have emergency-survival kits,” announced Dirt.

  “We have our spy kits!” suggested Poppy. “Will they help us in an emergency?”

  “Fake mustaches, marshmallows, and observation logs?” said Sugar, deep in thought. “Perfect!!”

  The chickens zipped up their plastic baggies and lined up at the door.

  “C’mon, squad!!” yelled Sugar. “Into the wild!” She waited until they were a few feet away from the chicken coop. “Now put on your mustaches and marshmallow belts; it’s for your own safety!”

  Chapter 5

  The wilderness is a lot farther away than I thought,” said Sugar, breathing heavily. “We should camp out here and wait for the bad weather to pass.” Sugar tapped her head. ?
??Survival skills, kid.”

  “You’re right. There is a line of dark clouds approaching,” said Dirt.

  “I meant the sun,” Sugar pointed out. “It’s really hot. In fact, according to the compass, it’s going to be a real scorcher today. My instincts tell me it’s probably going to be close to two hundred degrees. Let’s set up a tarp for shade and wait it out.”

  “Compasses don’t predict weather,” explained Dirt.

  “We need to hydrate,” said Sugar, ignoring her. “Let’s stop here and fill our canteens.”

  “That’s J. J.’s dog bowl,”’ said Dirt. “He really doesn’t like it when we go in there. Plus, I’m pretty sure it has, you know, dog spit in it. That is not clean water.”

  “Clean water? Is that what you think you need to survive? The last thing you need to survive is clean water!!”

  “Every living thing needs clean water,” said Dirt. “It may actually be one of the most important things. . . .”

  Sugar ignored her sister again. “Hand me the canteen!” she demanded.

  “We don’t have canteens,” replied Dirt. “And the sky is actually getting pretty dark; I think we should keep moving and stay ahead of it.”

  “Come on, chickens,” announced Sugar. “For once, Dirt is right. We have to keep moving! Head count! One!”

  “Two!” yelled Dirt.

  “Three!” yelled Poppy.

  The chickens waited.

  “Close enough!” announced Sugar. “Let’s move!”

  “Hang on, Sugar,” said Dirt. “We have to stick together in the wilderness. I’ll find Sweetie!” She turned around and headed back across the yard.

  Sugar and Poppy set up a pillowcase for shade and played hangman in their observation logs while they waited.

  “Found her!” yelled Dirt a few minutes later, walking under the pillowcase with Sweetie right behind her. Dirt was wearing a headlamp. Her arms were full and her backpack was overflowing.