The Wild Robot

CHAPTER 36 THE GOSLING GROWS

Brightbill soon forgot about the incident with Rockmouth, and he spent his mornings cruising around the pond with the other goslings. He was becoming a great little swimmer. He was also becoming a great little speaker.

“Hello, my name is Brightbill!” he said to anyone who would listen.

The gosling was small for his age, and he always would be, but he was growing bigger and stronger by the day. His increasing size was matched by his increasing appetite. He gobbled down grass and berries and nuts and leaves. Sometimes he’d snack on little insects. If it was edible, Brightbill would eat it. And even if it wasn’t edible, he might eat it anyway. Roz felt something like fright the time she saw Brightbill swallowing pebbles on the beach. She was holding him upside down, hoping the pebbles would fall out of his mouth, when Loudwing stepped in.

“Put the gosling down,” said the goose with a laugh. “It’s perfectly natural for Brightbill to eat a few pebbles. They’ll help him digest his food. But not too many, okay, little one?”

Like most youngsters, Brightbill was incredibly curious. He explored the garden and the pond and the forest floor. And he would occasionally explore neighboring homes. He’d wander down some hole in the ground and say to whoever was there, “Hello, my name is Brightbill!” Then a long robot arm would reach in and pull the gosling back outside. “Sorry to bother you,” Roz would say, in her friendliest voice.

The mother and son slipped into a good nighttime routine. While the gosling slept, the robot might tend the fire if it was cool out, or gently fan him if it was warm. If he woke up hungry or thirsty, Roz brought him food or water. And whenever he had nightmares, she was always there to rock him back to sleep.

CHAPTER 37 THE SQUIRREL

A small squirrel was scurrying through the garden. Brightbill had never seen her before. He peered out from the Nest and watched her bounce across the lawn. After a minute of spying, the gosling shook his tail feathers and waddled outside. “Hello, my name is Brightbill!”

The squirrel froze. Then she slowly turned around. And then she started to talk.

“Hi Brightbill my name is Chitchat and I’m a twelve-and-a-half-week-old squirrel and I’m new around here and your home is really big and round and I don’t understand why smoke sometimes comes out of it…”

Reader, I’m not quite sure how Chitchat got enough air into her lungs to go on like that. And I’m not quite sure how Brightbill had the patience to listen. But he stood there and politely nodded as Chitchat rambled on and on and on.

“… and sometimes I see you waddling behind your funny-looking mother and you seem so nice that I thought I’d come down and introduce myself but now I’m nervous and I’m talking too much and my name is Chitchat I think I said that already.”

There was a pleasant silence.

Brightbill stood on one foot for a moment.

Then the gosling took a deep breath and said, “It’s very nice to meet you Chitchat I don’t think you talk too much I think you talk just enough and I like you so let’s be friends.”

A big smile appeared on the squirrel’s tiny face. For once, Chitchat was speechless.