Nowhere To Run To
The “Woodland Times” was just a small-town paper in the woods,
It ran the news and advertised the sale of local goods;
The creatures of the forest read it every single morn,
It kept them up-to-date within the land that they were born.
It covered quite an area, from Farmer Johnson’s Glen,
Up north to Ranger’s River, then down south to Lion’s Den,
It bordered on the City of Two-Legs, just east of Dread,
A place where only scavengers and fearless critters tread.
The Times preferred to stay away from stories of the East,
A place the Editor had coined “Not fit for bird nor beast!”
Instead they ran the “happy” news, pretended all was fine,
And closed their eyes and ears beyond the edge of Dead Bird’s Line.
Now Billy was a Cub Reporter, wet behind the ears,
The little bear was young and fresh, but wise beyond his years;
He’d worked for Earl the Editor for several months he guessed,
Reporting on the cheerful news, from North to South, to West.
He wrote of Toad Triathlons and Turtle Races too,
He’d covered Bunny Beauty Pageants, just to name a few;
He had his sights however, on a prize all writers yearned,
A story worth “The Bullitzer”, was something to be earned.
He needed something edgy, something genuine and real,
A scoop that he could sink his teeth in – something he could feel;
And so without permission, to the East, young Billy fled,
In search of something special on the outskirts known as “Dread”.
He packed up his equipment - cameras, notepads and the like,
Then headed off toward the East, an eight or ten mile hike;
He passed the old familiar sights, within this little world,
Where all the happy stories in the neighborhood unfurled.
He tried to chat along the way, with creatures heading West,
“You’re best to turn around young man!” he heard throughout his quest;
“Why so?” young Billy countered to a deer he knew as Dan,
“It’s fight or flee!” the old buck yelled behind him as he ran.
Well Billy thought it rather odd – so many passed him by,
The more he asked, the more he heard, “Go East and you will die!”
Not one would stop to tell him why, from possums, birds, to frogs ...
“Don’t go!” yelled passing beavers, squirrels, and even pollywogs.
“This must be quite a story!” daring Billy thought aloud,
From West to East, as he moved on, he passed a growing crowd;
Each face was filled with terror. Every hoof and paw was fast ...
Each squeak and squawk and howl and grunt was louder than the last!
He’d only walked four miles or so, not half-way there he thought,
When old familiar sights and sounds gave way to stench and rot;
He sniffed the air and perked his ears – he put his glasses on ...
“This cannot be!” he cried out loud, “Where has the forest gone?!?!”
Not fifty feet ahead of him, where maples used to stand,
Where tall majestic oaks and pines stood proudly ‘cross the land,
Was something different – something wrong – the picture somehow changed,
The sights that he remembered had been somehow rearranged.
He felt his chocolate hair stand up, and bristle on his head,
“It’s moving closer!” Billy thought, “I’m at the town of Dread!”
“This isn’t right. There’s something wrong. The forest can’t stop here!”
But there it was, the edge of all he knew and held so dear.
He ran behind a giant tree and peeked beyond the rim,
Looked out toward the frightening land just past the old oak’s limb;
He squinted from the dust and sand that pelted at his face,
And what he saw left images he wished he could erase!
He stared in awe at what he saw ... and what he DIDN’T see,
Before his eyes, to his surprise, he couldn’t see one tree!
In front of him, not twenty feet, a wasteland loomed ahead,
“But I’ve still got at least five miles before the Town of Dread!!!”
“I’m sure,” he whispered to himself, “That only just last year,
The tree frogs and the nightingales had held a concert HERE.”
“It was a grand performance, just magnificent,” he thought,
“Below a lush green canopy upon this very spot!”
Instead, where he was seated just last spring under the trees,
Was nothing that he recognized ... he shook down to his knees!
The wilderness he’d known by heart had simply disappeared,
It seemed like it was swallowed up by nothingness, he feared.
No noise, no crickets, grunts or groans, no barks, no yelps, no shrieks,
No peep at all from anyone, no old familiar squeaks;
The silence was unnerving, not a creature made a sound,
The quiet seemed to smother him – it came from all around.
He peeked beyond the rim again, the dust was thinning out,
He gazed beyond the forest edge, and gave a little shout;
“Hellooooooo?” he called to no one there, “Is anybody here?”
“Hellooooooo!” he called again, as he leaned forward with his ear.
The silence scared him half to death – unnatural, unreal,
As if he was the only one, alone in this ordeal;
Just then, he heard a flutter high above, a whoooosh, a squawk,
He looked above, toward the sound that seemed to jeer and mock.
It was the shriek that echoed death ... the forest’s lonely friend,
It’s Sanitation Engineer (Mortician in the end);
As Billy watched the Turkey Vulture soar and dip and sway,
He hoped it wasn’t there for “him” ... then shrugged the thought away.
“Helloooooooo!” He hollered, waved his arms; the vulture turned and dove,
It swooped past Billy, landing on a stump beside the grove;
The vulture smiled, “My boy, it’s not that often that I’m called.”
“I do apologize, for most avoid me – they’re appalled.”
Young Billy blushed, “I’m sorry to disturb you, but I’m lost.”
“I must have zigged instead of zagged ... and got my bearings crossed.”
“Well son, you’re here at Dead Bird’s Line, the outskirts known as Dread,
“Beyond you is the City of Two Legs, a mile ahead.”
“It can’t be!” Billy cried with fear, at what he knew was true,
“The forest used to go for miles, the creek and meadow too!”
“Please tell me what is happening! Why has it disappeared?”
“Where’s all the trees, the sounds, the life? Why has it all been cleared?!?!”
The vulture dropped his head; his shoulders slumped a little then,
He raised a wing and spun it back behind him past the glen;
He pointed to the wasteland, where the dust had settled back,
And said, “That WAS the forest son, before the big attack.”
“They came in waves – Two-Leggers – Ohhhhh, we didn’t have a chance,
They dug up hills, they tore down trees, with every new advance,
They came with great big monstrous things and ripped the forest down,
They flattened everything in sight – filled creeks a muddy brown.”
“A massacre, I’d say it was - some hid while others fled,
But those that stayed were swallowed up, within the grips of Dread.
No shelter and no food supply, made all the rest retreat,
A chain reaction you might say ... a swift and cruel defeat.”
The vulture rambled on at length, describing what he’d seen,
Two-Leggers stealing life and land as if it were routine;
No thought to creatures big or small, their homes, their lives, their seeds,
They swallowed up each inch of nature, mindless of her needs.
While Billy listened long and hard, he taped all that he heard,
He didn’t want to miss a single thought, a single word;
“My work is never-ending now.” The vulture finally said,
“I’m busier than ever here upon the edge of Dread.”
With that he tipped his head, and gave a squawk as he arose,
He swooped by Billy, tipped his wing, just past the young cub’s nose;
“Head West,” He hollered down below, “Go now, while you still caaaaan!”
“They’re coming!” Squawk “They’re commmming!” And with that, young Billy ran!
He ran with all his might and speed, he ran as fast as light,
He didn’t stop to eat or sleep – he ran into the night!
He ran past others on his way, and warned them not to go,
“Go East and you will diiiiie!” He yelled, “It’s fight or flee the foe!”
He made it home, no time to spare, grabbed papers from the shelf,
He had the story in his mind – it almost wrote itself!
He scribbled, penned and edited until he told it all,
Then ran down to the Woodland Times, with no time left to stall.
He grabbed a hold of Earl and plunked the copy in his hand,
“They’re coming!” Frantic Billy yelled, “They’ve come to take our land!”
“Who’s coming?” Earl retorted, “Read my story!” Billy cried,
He pleaded, begged and groveled at Earl’s knees till he complied.
The Editor sat down to read his cub reporter’s tale,
With horrors and atrocities that left him looking pale;
His face contorted, frowned and fell, glanced up a time or two,
As Billy paced the floor in silence, knowing it was true.
“Ridiculous!” He heard Earl say, when he had reached the end,
“I can’t print that! You know the rules, just HAPPY news, my friend.”
“We have to warn them!” Billy yelled, “They have to know! It’s true!”
But Earl just frowned and shook his head, as Billy’s panic grew.
Young Billy argued long and hard, he had to take a stand,
“Within a year, the edge of Dread, will swallow up this land!”
“Have you not noticed? Billy asked, “Our population boom?”
“With homeless creatures heading West, we’re running out of room!”
“I’m telling you ... You have to see the writing on the wall,
We have to run the story NOW, we don’t have time to stall.
The Woodland Times, our homes, our food, will simply disappear,
Two-Leggers are advancing as we speak. They’ll soon be here!”
“I can’t believe that this is true.” The Editor replied,
“I will not run the story son, consider it denied!
We only run the happy news, it’s always been that way,
If you don’t like it, you head West, but I think I will stay.”
With that, young Billy was dismissed, but he did not give in,
They could not stay oblivious – His mind began to spin ...
So Billy posted flyers, talked to everyone he knew,
In hopes that he could warn the creatures, maybe save a few.
He did his best, then headed West to stay a bit ahead,
The overcrowding soon would start, behind him close to Dread;
He walked for miles, in hopes that he might start his life a’new,
Out West where lush green canopies and sturdy maples grew.
It seemed the farther Billy got, the more he breathed relief,
Until a sense of déjà vue disputed his belief,
He tried to chat along the way, with others heading “East”,
“You’re best to turn around young man!” he heard from bird and beast.
Not one would stop to tell him why, from possums, birds, to frogs ...
“Don’t go!” yelled passing beavers, squirrels, and even pollywogs;
“Why so?” young Billy countered to the deer he knew as Dan,
“It’s fight or flee!” the old buck yelled behind him as he ran.