In one of Mr. Canad’s paws was a branch—a pointer. Next to him was a large sheet of bark, which he had attached to a wall. The bark bore a drawing of the new pond the beavers had created.
“All right then,” Mr. Canad began, tapping his stick against the drawing. “Here’s where we’ve constructed the dam. Mighty fine dam, too, if I do say so myself. Yes, sir, when Canad and Co. builds a dam, we don’t let the grass grow under our feet, do we?”
“Way to go, Cas,” murmured a few of the beavers, slapping their tails down on the mud floor of the lodge by way of approval.
“Okay,” Mr. Canad continued, “every journey begins with a step. But it’s plain as the nose on your face, we’re going to build the biggest, best, most profitable pond in the whole country. Honest to goodness, as the day is long, take my word for it, we are. You know what the old philosopher said: ‘If you can’t see the forest for the trees, chew the trees down!’
“Okay. Good news and bad news. The good news is that so far we’ve done a fine job on the pond. Peachy keen-o job.” Mr. Canad tapped the map with his stick. “Bad news,” he went on with a good-natured chuckle, “Rome wasn’t built in a day, either.
“Which reminds me. . . . Has anyone come up with a good name for this project? The locals call the brook, The Brook. Hey, dull as ditch water. Can’t sell lodges by calling them The Brook. Far as I’m concerned, it doesn’t hit the nail on the head.”
“Hey, Cas,” one of the beavers called out, “what about Wet Wonderland?”
“Or, Welcome Water World,” suggested another.
“Mud Flats,” offered a third.
To each suggestion Mr. Canad offered up a toothy smile. “Fine. Fine,” he said. “Keep those thinking caps on. Those names are A-OK. What we need, though, is something that hits folks square in the eye. Something strong. Dynamic. That goes over the top. Scores a bull’s-eye. Is a hole in one. The whole ten yards. A knock out in one. Slam dunk. I’m telling you, straight from the heart, there’s nothing I admire more than originality. As long as it fits the bill.
“So, sure as the sun rises in the morning, I put on my thinking cap and came up with—this should knock your front teeth cockeyed—Canad’s Cute Condos. Says it all, don’t you know. Canad’s Cute Condos. Has a solid ring to it, wouldn’t you say? The real plastic.”
There was a general thumping of tails.
“Okay. We agree. From here on out, we call this project Canad’s Cute Condos.
“Now,” Mr. Canad continued, using his stick to clarify his ideas, “with the dam built here, Canad’s Cute Condos will extend its boundaries. Here. Here. Here. How do you like them wood chips?” He grinned, exposing his orange buck teeth to the fullest.
Tails thumped.
“As for lodges, we’ll scatter them here, here, here. Plus a few more canals over here.” Mr. Canad pointed to different places on the bark.
“I know this is a lot of work. But don’t forget the turtle, the hare, or the Alamo. We don’t want to let the grass grow under our feet. Which is okay, except we want water under our feet. The more the better. If there’s one thing I can tell you, Canad’s Cute Condos will be wet.
“My loyal, hard-working company,” Mr. Canad continued, “we’re the original eager beavers. Canad and Co. has never shied from hard work. Never will. Yes, sir, if better ponds are to be built, Canad and Co. will build them! Any questions?”
One of the beavers raised a paw.
“Yes, Clara.”
“I have received a complaint about what we’re doing here. Rather rudely put, too, I’m afraid.”
Mr. Canad nodded sagely. “Hard to believe, sweetheart, but there are those who want life to go on the way it always has. Can’t stand progress. Resist it.
“Okay. Let’s be sensitive to these folks. Pity them. They don’t understand they’re sitting right smack dab in the middle of the future. So, be patient, but get on with the job. Be understanding, but don’t give an inch. Keep saying ‘Progress Without Pain,’ till they believe it. Anyway, little folks can’t do much about us. Not by a long shot. Or a short one,” he added with a chuckle.
“What if they make trouble?” asked one of the other beavers.
“Okay. I’ve been around the pond a few times. Talk is cheap. Actions speak louder than words. A flat whack of the old tail solves most problems. Hey! The bottom line is, we’ve got bigger bottoms.”
The lodge rippled with laughter and a few tail slaps.
“All right then,” Mr. Canad concluded. “Don’t have to remind you, there’s work to be done. I’ll be by your side. Don’t want to hear about any beaver who isn’t busy. Hang in there. Be fresh as a daisy. When the going gets tough, the tough get going. And finally, from the bottom of my heart, and from the top, as well as the sides and also the middle, I want to say to you all, and I mean this, really, I do, with all my soul, honestly, sincerely, have a nice day!”
CHAPTER 8
A Dance upon the Meadow
POPPY AND ERETH continued traveling west. Though there were many trails from which to choose, there were no clear signs to follow. The best that Poppy could do was to keep them moving in a westerly direction. For Ereth, it was a point of pride to refuse to ask directions from anyone.
“But why?” Poppy wanted to know.
“Ask for directions and you’re admitting you’re helpless,” the porcupine pronounced. “The only thing that matters is that I know my way back home.”
When
