The Giant Forest - COMPLETED - True to life adventures of preteens.

Deer, er, Train in the Headlights

Sycamore raised his head slightly and pointed his nose upwards as if he were a wolf preparing to howl at the moon.

He let out his best werewolf imitation, "Pwoooooeeee!!!"

He made the sound again. Then paused and put each of his big hands up alongside each ear as if they were small satellite dishes and he was trying to catch a communication signal from some distant extraterrestrial.

He showed his teeth, displaying his biggest grin, then repeated the same actions a few more times. What he was really doing was trying to pick up the train signal.

The sound he made was his imitation of the train whistle he thought he heard. He thought that perhaps he could, um, talk to the train.

Sycamore's reasoning went something like, "Trains can talks back n forth tos one and the t'other you know ... with their whistlin. Boats does it, too. My dog, Sushi. He barks through de kitchen screen door. Udder dogs in ours neighborhood woof back at him like they's talking on a phone. And when the fire truck or the police car chasing bad guys goes sirening by, why Sushi talks at them, too."

Hoooooowwwwlll!!!" Sycamore spontaneously did his best to mimic a howling dog.

"If'n dogs can have a conbersation, why trains oughta be able to toot too to each t'other. Right?" he asked himself out loud.

He repeated to himself the "... to toot too to ..." then smiled at his own perceived cleverness. "Eyes can be purty smarty pants when I wanna," he chuckled.

Sycamore had thought he if were able to imitate a train whistle close enough and understand what the train was saying back to him he might be able to have a conversation with the train. And, in turn, he might learn where his friends were and what he needed to do to find them.

The train whistle blew again. Much louder than the previous time.

"I hears ya! Pwoot! Ima comin' twiiirrreee!!!"

The problem with train signals on a cool summer evening in the low mountains is that you can often hear the train signal very clearly but you can't really tell which direction it is coming from. Sycamore was living and walking truth of the fact. He took a few steps forward. Paused. Closed his eyes. Cupped his ears. Turned a bit to the left. Took a few paces and ...

"Aaarch! Not a train. It''s a tree."

Sycamore walked right into, believe it or not, a sycamore tree.

"Harrumph. How'd that tree make that whistlin' sound?" Sycamore asked while scratching his scrunched up forehead. "I din't know trees could make sounds like trains," he paused. "Unless, unless, maybe, twasn't the tree!" He slapped his leg. "But, how's a train git through all dese trees within no tracks?"

Sycamore stepped around the tree, let out a howl and cupped his ears but decided he'd better keep his eyes open this time.

The train whistle blew again.

"Iss thattaway ..... Uh, ...... maybe."

Not bothering to look for a path, Sycamore took off through the brush, stepping over roots, straddling fallen trees and allowing himself to get scratches on his arms and bare legs below the cargo shorts he was wearing. He ducked under low hanging limbs, banged his shins on big rocks that were mysteriously placed in this forest. Mystifying only if you don't believe in floods that are able to move boulders and place them in the middle of fields. He walked into a creek. The running cool water washed the blood off his shins and gave a soothing effect. Up the other side of the creek Sycamore made his way up a small rocky hill with a steep incline.

"Gotta fine my friends. Gotta fine my fiends. Hopes dey arn't in innie trouble."

A few big steps and Sycamore summited the tiny hill. The rock-strewn hill went on far to the left and right for as far as he could see. At the top of the hill Sycamore found what he was looking for ... almost.

"Hahharrhhharrhh!" He laughed out loud.

"Dey musta been a train heres. For I found his tracks! Hah har hooot."

Sycamore thought he made another joke. And since no one was around he decided to laugh out loud to himself at the funny he had made.

"I sure is funny tonight," he said, followed with a long pause to think.

"If'n I were a train, now witch ways would I go, I wonner?

"Eenie, meanie, miney, mo. Catch a ... Hmm, I wonner what comes next?

"Guess, I'll go to the right. Doin' the right thing. Hardy hoo haht." Sycamore thought he was being clever again.

Then he turned to the left not realizing he was doing the opposite of what he had planned to do.

"I wonners. If I cup my eyes will I be able to sees better liken I do when I play satellite with my ears."

He cupped his hands to each side of his eyes and peered off into the distance as if he were looking through binoculars. Sure enough, Sycamore could see a faint light that unmistakably was getting brighter by the moment. One more step and Sycamore would find himself straddling one of the rails on a pair of train tracks and the train coming very quickly towards him.

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