Tea Party in the Woods
Happy Holidays dear Readers! My three wonderful daughters and I have worked to bring you this little tale, inspired by the story “When the Foxes Make Coffee” from the book, Kitchen Witch, Food Folklore, and Fairy Tale, by Sarah Robinson. We hope you enjoy reading or listening to all four of us read our story aloud to you!
The Old Woman is out collecting driftwood to replenish her dwindling pile when she spies several Ravens clustered together. They seem to be having a conference, with Trickster Raven presiding, so she gives them a wide berth. When her arms are laden with as many logs as she can carry, she trudges back up the worn path to the cave she shares with a growing number of friends. This happens from time to time as creatures find their way to her cave, more often than not, brought there by Trickster Raven. Eventually, they all carry on their journeys, all except Raven, who has been her constant companion since before she can remember.
Raven has been gone for a few days, and Spirit with him. With Little Snake hibernating, The Old Woman has not been lonely exactly, but she feels more at ease having the two Ravens back on the island. She always worries a bit when the Trickster is abroad.
“What were you talking about down there?” The Old Woman asks when Raven and Spirit return to the cave and warm their tail feathers by the fire.
“That’s Raven business!” the Trickster retorts as he eyes her tapestry and sees how much she has woven in his short absence. Soon, he will need to devise a way to peck out a few strands of yarn when she isn’t looking.
The Old Woman continues weaving. She knows that if she acts uninterested, Raven won’t be able to stand the silence for very long and will tell her everything.
Raven is restless. The Old Woman has let the matter drop, but he is dying to tell her his story. Raven has too much dignity to just open his beak and blather. But he wants The Old Woman to ask again. He shifts on his perch, bumping into Spirit, who squawks in response. Spirit ruins it all by joining the conversation.
“It’s not like anyone told a secret,” the white Raven interjects. “Why don’t you just tell her?”
Raven glares at Spirit.
“Tell me what?” asks The Old Woman, eyeing the two birds sidelong as she continues weaving.
Raven has turned his back on the other two.
“Well if you don’t want to,” shrugs Spirit, “I will. I was out scratching at the hole of a Mouse burrow when Raven lands next to me and says, ‘I know a place where we can get an easy meal. Want to come?”
Raven can’t stand it any longer. “That’s not how it starts!” he croaks.
“Well you weren’t talking, Mr. Grumpy Tail Feathers,” Spirit snaps back.
“I’m talking now!” declares Raven. “I was out flying one day, a ways from here, when I noticed some delicious smells in the wisps of mist rising from the trees on a particular mountainside. I circled around, searching for the source, when I began to notice footprints in the thin layer of snow on the ground. There were sweeping Porcupine prints, deep Wolf prints, and a single Bear’s paw prints coming from different directions, but all leading to the same place. I flew ever tighter circles until I found a little party of animals deep in the forest.
“From what I could tell, the Bear was drinking cocoa, the two Wolves were sniffing their coffee, waiting for it to cool down, and the three little Porcupines were sipping hot tea. I saw some treats on the stump they were using as a table, so I swooped down and grabbed a bite of food.
“The Bear swiped at me, saying, ‘You weren’t invited! Don’t take our food!’”
“What did you say to that?” asks The Old Woman.
“I had food in my beak, so I didn’t say anything. But after I had landed in a tree and eaten the morsel, I flew back down and retorted, ‘Everyone is invited in the forest!’
“After that, I flew off to get Spirit so we could both join the party. On our way, we came across another Raven with something in his beak, so we stopped and talked with him. He said to call him Puddle, and he showed us where he had found the food. A Five-Fingered One was tossing cheese rinds to Ravens in a nearby meadow.
“I spotted the person and, with a beautiful wing dance, requested some of the food. The Five-Fingered One seemed to appreciate the grandeur of my flight dance, and tossed me some salty cheese rinds. So, Spirit, Puddle, and I snatched them up and returned to the tea party in the woods.
“Some little Mice had joined the party, bringing with them some sedge roots, and chittering Squirrels kept rearranging a tottering pile of Spruce cones. We added our cheese to the stump and pretty much brought the life to the party.”
“Were there any other birds at the party?” The Old Woman asks.
“No, most of them are lying low for the winter,” explains Spirit.
“I saw a Dipper the other day, bobbing and swimming in the stream that runs across the island,” remarks The Old Woman.
“The water birds don’t really frequent the forest, though,” Spirit continues, “so we didn’t see them at the party. But then Raven here got greedy and started snatching food from the table. The Wolves and the Bear tried to catch him so that he wouldn’t steal all of the food. Hot drinks tipped over, soaking fur and seeds. In the melee, somebody brushed the Porcupines and quills got everywhere!”
The Old Woman laughs heartily, “Sounds like a right Raven mess!”
“Well the Bear finally pinned Raven down, but between the black fur and feathers, I didn’t see exactly what happened. The Wolves gave him a real tongue lashing, though, about how there was enough for everyone if they all had their share, but once Raven started taking more than his portion, then nothing was left for everyone else.
“The Bear laid down the law, ‘Now, you can make up for the mess you have made by using that sharp beak of yours to pull the quills out of the Wolf’s tail and my paw.’ The Bear let Raven up and he made a show of pulling the quills out of the Wolf. But Puddle and I were left to pull the rest of the Porcupine quills out of the Bear.”
“He never learns, does he?” The Old Woman shakes her head.
“I’m here to keep life exciting!” Raven defends himself. “I’m just encouraging creativity and connections.”
“Through disasters,” grumbles The Old Woman.
“Exactly!” croaks Raven.
