Good and Evil (1): Bisto Wildwood

Yep. It's Darcy.

I was re-reading Jackson's story about the Victorians and was struck by his reaction to the appendices in Merlin's book "The History of Man". Specifically, his curiosity about the worst events in - what I assume - is part of human history. It made me wonder: why don't we as Sylvanians have any such dark past? Not that we want one. I was curious about the nature of good and evil, I suppose. 

My reporting background kicked in. Who might know? I went to see Sheriff Bisto Wildwood. He settles disagreements. He assesses non-Sylvanian behaviour. A good place to begin.

 

No point in delaying matters. I went to the Sheriff's Department, where I was greeted by Consuella Lopez on reception.

 

She waved me through to speak to Bisto.  

o 0 O 0 o

"Evil Sylvanians?" he laughed. "You might well ask about dehydrated water. It's not our nature. You must know that."

 

"I do. But I don't know why it isn't our nature."

 

He scrunched his muzzle in thought. "Philosophy is probably Kelvin Waters' domain. My job is to calm the waters..." - he smiled - "...when opinions differ. There's usually a middle way that I can suggest."

 

"Kelvin. Right," I said, rubbing my chin. "So you've never encountered any really bad people?"

"No." He paused, searching his memory. "Not personally. Although there were reports about a dozen years ago. Information from assorted Sylvanian police representatives across the land about a character who popped up here and there, stealing. Even threatening crittizens."

 

"Why haven't I heard about this before?"

"Villages don't tend to publicise problems, preferring to deal with them. If there was an actual villain, they wouldn't want to give him publicity."

I was incredulous. "Wow. An actual bad Sylvanian."

Bisto shook his head. "I don't think he was Sylvanian. Certainly his behaviour was alien. Wherever he came from, he reportedly wasn't like any critter we'd encountered."

"Then what was he?"

"Don't know. They called him the Packbat."

o 0 O 0 o 

I delved further, but Bisto didn't have much further information. There was something, though.

"Reportedly, he was a bad influence on some Sylvanians," the Sheriff said when pressed. "In one place he convinced some Slydales to play a minor role in his schemes. I get the impression he deceived them."

"He sounds a nasty piece of work."

"He does. We're lucky he didn’t come here."

"So, what happened to him?"

"I don't know. The police reports say they brought in a consultant..." He slapped his forehead.

"What?"

"The consultant was an expert in weird stuff. Paranormal thingies."

"What? Like Mulder Honey-Fox?"

"Exactly like Mulder Honey-Fox. It was him."

 

o 0 O 0 o

Mulder Honey-Fox and his wife moved to Mellowdene twelve years ago or thereabouts. He'd never really explained his work but I was given to believe that he was some sort of detective who dealt with odd cases, and was called in by other Sheriff and Police Departments around Sylvania when needed. He'd settled here and started a family, lending his problem-solving and lateral-thinking skills to the more mundane issues encountered by the council.

 

I arranged to meet him in his home office and got straight to the point asking about this supposed villain. 

He breathed out noisily, curling his lip. "Packbat. Now there's a name from the past."

"You met him?"

"Briefly. I'd been called in by Pandaville Police to help locate him and suggest reasons for his motives. They had records of places he'd been seen from all over Sylvania. There was no obvious pattern to his choice of location, and his crimes were not wholly consistent."

"Was he there in Pandaville?"

"No, I'd missed him, but I did get an opportunity to look at the evidence gathered."

"And?"

 

The fox regarded me curiously. "How much do you want to know? I wouldn't want scare stories to appear in your newspaper."

 

"I'm curious but not irresponsible Mister Honey-Fox. It's for me, not the Mellowdene Examiner."

"Fair enough. Get comfortable and I'll tell you what I know."

(To be continued)

o 0 O 0 o

When the Sun Goes Down

In my experience, I would say that most Sylvanians tend towards daytime activities rather than nighttime ones. That's probably because we're a social group of people and it's easier to interact when we can see one another. Am I being lighthearted? A little, perhaps, and yes - I can see the double meaning. It's worth analysing, though.

In years long past, we generally lived according to the rise and fall of the sun. That didn't mean we all took to our beds following sunset. Life went on, and as some critters adapted better to darkness than others, they took advantage of this nocturnal advantage to shift their working day to the benefit of the community. Badgers, beavers, raccoons and foxes were amongst these, and - had there been any cats resident in Mellowdene back then they would undoubtedly been counted too.

Of course, candles and lanterns helped everyone. I know that some Sylvanian villages went on to use gas, oil or electric lighting, but on the whole Mellowdene didn't follow that route. We found another way to illuminate those dark evenings.

I've no doubts that our location guided us. The valley from which Mellowdene sprung, protected by the loving arms of the mountains, the fertile land nourished from the waters of Sweetwater Lake, unusual minerals and plants - all had contributed to our way of life. Our artificial lighting was another bounty.

o 0 O 0 o

Nancy Waters and her brother Norman Brooks are descendants of "Big Bevis" Brooks, a beaver that worked with ancestors of Blake Underwood and Elma Mulberry to develop our main source of lighting. Norman, Blake and Elma continue the work to this day and the process is more streamlined.

Diggle Underwood, Big Bevis Brooks, Karl Mulberry

Close to a series of small waterfalls that feed our river there is a cluster of small caves that provides a home to a colony of spark flies. 

At dusk, these chunky insects fly to their feeding grounds. These were downriver on the west bank in soft ground overlooked by the woodlands. In exchange for the nourishing moss that grew there they left their waste - best described as silver filaments that, for the most part, used to wash away in the current.

Big Bevis was intrigued with the filaments he found, how they almost shone under certain conditions. His curiosity led to experimentation and he discovered that - if the filaments were put into sealed containers, they would start to glow. If some pressure was applied, they would glow brighter. He had the beginnings of a predictable artificial lighting system.

 

The problem was that the soft ground west of the river wasn't a convenient location. Worse still, the moss was slowly being eroded away by the encroachment of other plants.

For that reason Bevis collaborated with Diggle Underwood to set up their own palettes of moss banks within Mellowdene County itself. Situated east of the river, nestled in the foothills north of the bridge, the moss banks were closer to the spark fly colony. 

The rich moss was suitably irrigated and the stable placement made it easier for the spark flies to feed. When the sun edged beneath the horizon, the spark flies were quite happy to divert to the Brooks-Underwood Spark Farm. 

Not only was this preferable to the insects, it made harvesting filaments much easier.

Elma Mulberry's ancestor Karl operated a small glassworks with his family. They would blow glass to create bowls and bottles for various purposes - mainly culinary - but it wasn't any difficulty to create small glass bulbs to hold spark fly filaments. A mechanism to adjust the pressure would allow the level of light to be varied.

Today, the process is much more efficient. When continued use of the bulbs makes them inefficient, replacement is simple. I understand the exhausted filaments are returned to the river - as they used to be - and the glass housing recycled.

Of course, the implementation is more sophisticated too. Houses accommodate more convenient methods to control the amount of spark bulb illumination in their rooms. Nevertheless, most children recall the school lesson where they were given a plunger and a small glass beaker of insect droppings and then guided how to create light. It seemed like magic. 

 

o 0 O 0 o

Spark bulbs were a significant development in giving Mellowdene society a life after dark. It's not just extending our waking hours and family time at home. Transport can continue after sundown, safely illuminating the roads. Businesses can operate after dark, which is a boon for winter months so that work does not have to be rushed to fit daylight hours. Evening meals at the Mousehole, entertainment at the Bear Pit, social clubs after work - all help our villagers enjoy a full life.

So a big thanks to Big Bevis Brooks. You could say he put the spark in our lives!

o 0 O 0 o