The Year of the Rabbit (Part Two)

Merlin Butterglove was in his element. He enjoyed talking about local history and he knew he had captured our interest by telling us the book title "The Year of the Rabbit".

"I've got Dad's old copy in the study. I'll go and get it. Hang on."

 

With that, he left the three of us alone in his living room.

 

Orton looked at the door through which his foster father had passed, and then he switched his gaze to me.

 

 

Amos Seadog laughed quietly, shaking his head. "He does like his history."

He did. It wasn't a surprise to anyone that he had effectively taken over the small attic room that our father had used for his research. Merlin had his own mini-library up there as if - as head librarian - the entire Mellowdene Library was insufficient. 

 

All the family in Butterglove House were aware that, should a burning question occur to him in the middle of the night and his study might hold the answer, he was not averse to going up there irrespective of the hour. It was part of his character and we didn't mind this minor foible. We love him.

Merlin wasn't long. Being so organised he was back with the book in a matter of minutes. He settled into his armchair and found various passages within the book he considered relevant. As he began to read, we sat down to be educated. The words were the collected comments of assorted rabbits, taken at different times during their quest for a new home, compiled by one of their descendents - Gideon Brighteyes. 

 

o 0 O 0 o

"Our village home was, on paper, ideal. Being on a calm strip, the climate hardly changed. Being close to some wetlands, the villagers could venture out to harvest vegetables and catch fish. But some of us knew the location restricted us. The village couldn't expand because of the pop-up swamps."
(Nathaniel Dappledawn)

"It sounds a bit like why Mack Periwinkle left Stonehaven to move here," I commented. "The geography got in the way."

 

"Similar," said Merlin before he moved onto the next passage.

"There was a suggestion that some of us could find a new home. Make more space for those who were happy to remain. I'm not sure who made the suggestion. It could have been my cousin Roderick although he doesn't recall saying so. He was in favour, of course, and a few rabbit families agreed that it made sense if they wanted to have more children. In the end, it was four families who chose to leave the village. The Dappledawns, the Brighteyes, the Buttergloves and - of course - we Babblebrooks."
(Mary Louise Babblebrook)

Orton piped up. "Pappa, is that the same Roderick Babblebrook who became our first mayor?"

 

Merlin rewarded the lad with a wide smile. "It doesn't say, but it does seem likely. Well spotted, little man."

Amos winked at me as Merlin turned a number of pages to find the next passage.

"It had been four months since we left the village and we hadn't found anywhere suitable. The weather had been kind but winter was approaching. We needed to find somewhere. It didn't help that we had been spoiled by the unchanging climate of the calm strips. There were a few who talked of turning back. We convinced them to carry on. As Sylvanians we knew that emotional support was all they needed. Our reasons for leaving the village hadn't changed. We stayed as guests in an existing village who were kind enough to shelter us during two weeks of snowy weather, and then we pressed on."
(Moira Babblebrook)

"In the search for a suitable site we had decided to follow the routes of rivers, having discussed the need to regularly have access to fresh water. My brother Murtagh Butterglove had experience in filtration systems and had convinced everyone that they could make muddy water drinkable if the need arose. Whilst we would prefer spring water, we had become more hardy and practical over the months. Nine months of travelling, surveying and camping had produced determined rabbits."
(Josiah Butterglove)

Orton had another question. "Would that be our river, Pappa?"

"I think he meant rivers in general, but it certainly included our river during the later stages of their search," said Merlin.

 

"There are smaller watercourses that aren't shown on the standard map of Sylvania," said Amos. "Horatio keeps a more detailed map that marks the ones the Marita May can travel."

"Okay?" said Merlin, getting a nod from Orton before he turned to a passage later in the book.

"It was nearly a year since we left our village. Hortense Brighteyes had been maintaining a map of our journey, and we were travelling a route alongside yet another river..." - Merlin nodded to Orton - "...when we were obstructed by a dense thicket of trees that came to the water's edge. We had a choice - try and cross the river and continue along the opposite bank, or go inland to circle what appeared to be a forest of tall trees. We decided the river was too wide, so checking our supplies, we turned to follow the edge of the forest."
(Moira Babblebrook)

Merlin paused. "You note that the writer said it was nearly a year this group of rabbits had been travelling. Throughout this time they'd seen few other critters other than rabbits. That one time they sheltered from the snow in a friendly village they only saw three or four non-rabbits. You see why Gideon chose this particular title?"

 

"Not very sociable, then," said Amos, treating Orton to another wink.

 

"I suppose you might argue that, but I get the impression that they were more concerned about finding that special place where they could end their journey. Towards the end they wanted no distractions." He paused again. "Anyway, to continue..."

"After a two days we reached a path through the forest. A rock floor prevented the trees from blocking our route so we followed the path to emerge beyond. We saw a large valley that extended to some foothills dwarfed by a range of mountains. The valley wasn't all foliage. There were flattish rocky areas scattered about, more concentrated in the distance. Tobias Brighteyes made the usual sort of remark - he being a builder - about possible foundations for houses, but it was the greenery that the farmers amongst us noticed. Whilst not exactly stunted, they thought that the growth was somehow held back. Our first thoughts - that we had found a home - dissipated. Not yet."
(Moira Babblebrook)

Amos frowned. "Wait a minute. When you mentioned the forest, I thought you meant Tall Tree Forest, and the path implied you were talking about Mellowdene County."

Merlin sighed. "Patience, you old sea dog. I haven't finished."

This time, Orton nudged Amos and winked. Merlin turned a page.

"The discussions continued. We decided we should first return to the river. Once there we would carry on towards the source of the river, checking the land en-route.  The discovery of deep wells further inland raised spirits, but the water level of these underground springs was too low. Some queried Murtagh Butterglove on the possibilities of irrigating the land using the river. He wasn't too optimistic. Cleaning the river water and pumping it into the subterranean water courses was a mammoth task. He said we needed better quality water in a better location."

(Moira Babblebrook)

"Sweetwater Lake!" exclaimed Orton.

 

Merlin laughed. "Okay. Let's not be patient. It was Sweetwater Lake. The question was, how did they find it?"

"The owls!"

 

"Let's hear what the book says:"

"We had almost given up. We had reached the foothills, saw the waterfalls that fed the river, but they were virtually inaccessible and the lay of the land was inappropriate. Maybe we would have had success higher in the mountains, but there was no clear route through the foothills. As we turned back, William Dappledawn hung back. He pointed to a rock upon which a bird perched. Beyond that, another rock and another bird. Moving for a better view we saw further birds watching us. We gathered together and saw a winding line of the birds leading towards a mountain path. It was as if the birds of the skies marked our path through the foothills."
(Moira Babblebrook)

I touched the side of my nose and winked at Merlin. (You will note there had been a lot of winking during my brother's book reading!) I had remembered the phrase almost correctly.

Merlin read a further passage. "This is the last part I want to share:"

 

"The lake was large, hidden between a circle of peaks, gathering water from all directions. Overspill was at one end, supplementing other streams that fed the waterfalls. To one side there were some shallow caves for shelter and these bordered a rock overhang - big enough for us to set up camp. We could rest and make decisions. The water was sweet, almost nourishing. Francis Babblebrook said he thought he could see an odd blue light in the depths, but he does tease his friends sometimes."
(William Dappledawn)

Merlin closed the book. "Owls aren't specifically mentioned, but Aristotle has no reason to mislead you, Jack. It's quite possible they were the ones to guide the four families."

 

 

Orton clapped his hands. "That was a good story, Pappa. Four families of rabbits travelling for a year to get here. I just have one question."

"Only one?"

 

"For now," Orton laughed. "I just wondered what the village was called, you know, where they came from. And where it is. "

 

"Ah," said Merlin, "the thing is, no-one knows. The village was never named in any of the historical documents; it may not have had a name. As for where it was, we're not sure. The families travelled for a year, and they didn't name any of their stopovers. Even the map that Hortense Brighteyes had made was nowhere to be found. Lost, destroyed - we don't know. There are too many ambiguities about where they went, multiplied by many miles."

"Oh. It's just that it would be good to know about where the first Mellowdene Buttergloves came from."

Amos pursed his lips. "I'm more interested in the latest Butterglove to come here." 

 

Orton looked at him. "Who would that be?"

 

Another nudge. "Some bunny called Orton, I believe."

The lad regarded him with a straight face. Then he looked at Merlin. Then he looked at me and winked.

"There's someone else in Mellowdene called Orton?"

 

o 0 O 0 o

Editor's note: 

Merlin Butterglove is an excellent source of information when it comes to the early days of Mellowdene. I discovered this after the Dreamstone incident following Kelvin Waters' suggestion that I speak with him. Jackson had told me that his brother had inherited their father's interest in local history, but I wonder if either of them realise the extent of that knowledge. Merlin has my thanks for the following information:

The underground watercourses beneath Mellowdene County were fed solely from an icy basin high in the mountains, Winter Valley. Although it provided some irrigation, historians believe it was limited and may be the reason that the county was not settled earlier. The waters diverted from Sweetwater Lake made a tremendous difference. Springs became accessible and the dene became fertile. The land was now ideal for settlement.

Darcy Fielding 

The Year of the Rabbit (Part One)

Arriving home after my meeting with Aristotle Treefellow, I went to change clothes and then did my usual thing when I need to set down the thoughts that will contribute to this blog. Memory pointers really, and it rarely takes long. This time it set me wondering - not about the Professor's remarks about possibly using me, as you might think. No, it was about him saying how his ancestors had guided our founders to Sweetwater Lake leading to the establishment of Mellowdene. I decided that I should tell Merlin.

If you've been reading this blog a while, you may recall that my father Hansel was interested in local history, almost to the point of obsession. Merlin - as head librarian and founder of the Hansel Museum - has taken up the mantle of our father and is quite knowledgeable about Mellowdene's past. Aristotle's remarks would certainly interest him. Like me, he'd probably make the association with certain school lessons, namely the quotation "...and it was as if the birds of the skies marked our path through the foothills".

I knew Merlin would be relaxing in his living room so I went to see him. He was not alone - I heard chuckling from Orton as I approached, and when I looked around the door I saw Amos Seadog illustrating some tale with broad arm movements.

 

"...and so it wasn't a merhound after all."

Smiling, Merlin shook his head. "I don't know, Amos. You reel me in every time with your tall tales."

 

"You're funny, Uncle Amos," said Orton, "isn't he, Pappa?"

It warmed my heart to see the exchange. Allow me to explain.

o 0 O 0 o

Merlin and Eliza had agonised whether or not to tell Orton that his "mamma and dadda" were alive but had chosen to officially leave their son in their care. Eventually they decided that it was wrong to deny Orton the information - he did have a mature outlook, after all - and had gently broached the subject.

 

The boy had listened carefully, asked minimal questions - all relevant - then had lapsed into silence for a few minutes to consider. Apparently, this response was typical Orton. He raised his head and smiled.

"Then that's all sorted for the best. Mamma and Dadda are well and doing what they must for the wild animals of Sylvania. That's as it should be. They know I'm safe and loved. I'm lucky. I have two sets of parents."

 

Of course, Eliza started bawling with joy, and there were some tears in Merlin's eyes. Lots of hugs followed, and once Orton had extricated himself from the loving arms he made a declaration.

 

"I don't think I should call you Auntie Eliza and Uncle Merlin anymore. It would be confusing to call you Mamma and Dadda too. It must be something different. How about Mummy Eliza and Pappa Merlin?"

This soon became abbreviated to Mummle and Pappamerle, occasionally dropping the "merle" suffix.

I was incredibly touched when Merlin told me. Even now I get a tear in my eye when I think about it! But back to my story. 

 

o 0 O 0 o

Merlin had seen me at the door. Amos turned to follow his gaze.

 

"Jackie boy!" he declared. Like Horatio and his other brothers, the phrase had stuck, despite them not being that much older than me. "What's new?"

I decided to limit what to say in the presence of Orton and Amos. "Not much. I'm just back from visiting Aristotle Treefellow."

"Ooh," said Orton, "he taught Uncle Newton, didn't he? Is he very clever?"

 

"I suppose he is. He was telling me about the early days, before Mellowdene. That's why I popped in here, Merle. Something he said."

Amos nudged Orton. "He must be an ancient owl, eh, Orton?"

 

Orton chuckled again.

Merlin smiled at his foster son and then returned his attention to me. "You've piqued my interest, Jack. What did the Prof say?"

I told him about Aristotle's ancestors and their part in guiding the founders, and then mentioned my suspicion about our school days. Yet Merlin shook his head.

 

"It is interesting, but you're misremembering that last bit about school. That quotation was never in the school syllabus. It was something in one of Dad's books. He will have read it to us."

"Oh. I guess that's possible."

"The history taught by the school skirts over the discovery of Sweetwater Lake, concentrating more upon the four families' decision to use overspill of the Lake, diverting it away from the river and towards the underground spring system that permeates the county. As you know, that was the key to Mellowdene's foundation."

"So Dad had books about the time before then."

"A few. One in particular was based upon assorted journals compiled by Gideon Brighteyes. It covered the search for a new home by the four families, ending with the discovery of Sweetwater Lake but starting from the community they left. It took quite a few months. A good year, actually."

 

"Isn't it odd that they don't teach this?" said Orton.

"Perhaps it's being deliberately withheld!" said Amos, winking.

Merlin shook his head. "There are copies of the book in the library, and some of the original handwritten documents sealed in the museum. If anyone's interested, the books can be borrowed by anyone seeking to extend their knowledge of our history. I think it's more a decision by the school to concentrate on Mellowdene rather than what went before."

Amos shrugged. "My idea was more exciting."

We laughed. I thought back to Aristotle Treefellow again, wondering if there were any clues in the book to confirm whether owls were present.

"What is the book called, Merle?"

"The Year of the Rabbit."

 

o 0 O 0 o

(To be continued)