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

When Your Kids Let You Down

As Artie grew, so did Bart and Prissie's family. The following winter another child was left at the door much the same way Artie was, after dark. The subsequent year in late summer when fall had come knocking early. The year after that near the tail end of a long lingering winter, two others youngsters were left at the door. By the time Artie was six years old, the number of kids in his family had grown to six. Two boys and four girls. Artie had been there the longest and was presumably the oldest.

Artie was nothing like either Bart or Prissie had hoped for. Bart wanted a strong boy to help him cut wood, pull weeds, saw timber, carry logs, dig trenches and do other chores that would help Mt Hermon become the haven they had earnestly prayed it would become. Artie was strong ... strong willed. He was not defiant. Indeed he was an obedient son. He was, however, small in stature and slow to grow in size and strength.

Prissie wanted Artie to help her out when and if he did not make himself available to pitch in and make Bart's load lighter. However, when Artie wasn't around to help Bart, he simply wasn't around. He'd wander off, whistling, looking up and down, left and right, as if he were scanning his surroundings. Mostly, however, he was lost in his own thoughts.

Artie dutifully did his best to follow given directions ... when he heard them. But sometimes he didn't hear ... or most often wasn't paying attention. Artie was in his own world, living life at his own pace. Very inquisitive, loving to explore and oblivious to what was going on around him, if Artie had been born 100 years later those around him would have said, "He does his own thing. Marches to his own drummer."

"Where'd that boy wander off to now?" Bart would belt out.

Prissie's response, "No doubt, he's out looking for another mouth for us to feed."

Artie loved to wander the nearby, and sometimes into the not so nearby forest of giant trees. He'd take tiny bites of leaves and berries careful not to eat too much and possibly poison himself, but enough to determine if something were edible. He often got sick to his stomach. He learned by doing. He brought in all sorts of herbs that could be used by Prissie when cooking or in healing. When one of the little ones choked on something, Artie, little as he was, knew how to induce vomiting. These 'herbs' had names, of course, but neither Artie nor his parents had a clue what those names might be.

Artie would allow himself to be scratched by tree limbs and thorns and jagged rocks. He would then experiment with different leaves and sometimes some homemade concoctions of his own to see what soothed the pain and what didn't help.

Artie confiscated some notebooks, paper and pencils that Bart and Prissie had brought along with them. He drew pictures and kept notes. He made the tiniest of characters when he wrote so as to maximize the use of the papers. He created his own shorthand to save space. Artie wasn't much good at using his muscles, except for that one muscle between his ears!

He read over and over again the books that his tiny family had. He often copied from the books into his notebooks to learn to write. He'd write very lightly so that he could easily erase his scribbles and write something else. He made his own erasers out of a gummy substance he discovered in the woods. Bart and Prissie determined that Artie was not very useful as a farmhand or housemaid. But they could not deny that he was exceptionally inquisitive. He was forever pondering deep mysteries and in search of solutions to problems he didn't know yet existed.

He might have been a great conversationalist had he ever taken time to stop and listen. More often than not, he was doing the talking. Artie ALWAYS worked, studied and played at his own pace.

What Artie particularly enjoyed doing, however, was making new friends. Artie roamed the open fields in hopes of meeting butterflies, which he did. He gave them names that only he could remember. He drew pictures of these friends in his notebook. Sometimes he could be seen staring off into the sky.

"Whatcha thinking about?" One of his brothers or sisters might ask him.

"We are on an adventure."

"Who?"

"Me and my friends. I've learned to fly and they are taking me to ... " Artie's voice drifted off.

Artie loved to hang out by the nearby creek. There he could befriend beavers and their kits. Artie sat creekside for hours and hours, day after day and observed how they built their dams. All the while he made notes and drew sketches.

Beetles intrigued him greatly. He was constantly on the lookout for beetles of all sizes - on land or in the water, even flying beetles. Or burrowing ones. He liked to watch his beetle friends battle other insects - spiders, bees, crickets, dragonflies, taking meticulous notes and making detailed drawings, then staring out to no place in particular and create stories of his own that involved skirmishes, combats, campaigns and crusades, with his army of beetles always being victorious in the end.

Artie found his own small family of badger cubs, minus a parent, that he played caretaker until they could be on their own. They often frolicked together. Artie learned how to dig tunnels from his new friends. He created storehouses underground for his precious herbs and ointments.

Artie's closest friends, however, were two ragtag mutts, one male and one female, that had found their way to the Mt Hermon complex. Everywhere Artie went, those dogs were right there with him. Everywhere those two dogs went, Artie was sure to go. Artie made a ditty that he sang to himself to the tune of Mary had a little lamb:

Artie had two little dogs, little dogs

Their hair was white and black.

And everywhere that Artie went.

The dogs followed at his back.

The lyrics didn't quite match but Artie didn't mind.

Who led whom where was never clear. That these three were inseparable, however, was crystal clear.

For their part, Bart and Prissie were happy that Artie could keep himself occupied and that they didn't really have to worry about his safety. What Bart and Prissie did worry about was how to feed all of Artie's new friends. A menagerie of forest critters. Even a small herd of feral cats had joined the club.

The Mt. Hermon family continued to grow. By the time Artie had been with Bart and Prissie through 10 winters, there were nine other kids, all left on the doorstep and always late evening or very early morning. Artie's siblings were from one to eight years old. Nobody could be sure how old who was. They didn't bring birth certificates with them. There were no other adults at Mt Hermon. The closest adult might be found 4-5 hours of walking one way, in the town of Felton. Bart and Prissie strove to be completely self-sufficient thinking that perhaps it was a sign of strength. Getting along with others, learning to depend on friends and be depended upon is a strength, too. Towns were populated with those who had struck it rich and wanted to get away from the grind. Most residents, however, were those who had taken their shot at making a bundle but had come up empty, or deeply in debt. Some had run to escape their debtors. There were a few 'haves' and many 'have nots.' There were not many in the economic middle.

Bart and Prissie's family had grown, too. Their work at Mt Hermon kept them healthy and strong. But nobody lives forever.

Artie overheard Bart and Prissie talking one evening about their growing family and their ages. The next day everything changed for Artie, Bart and Prissie.