Short Stories Inspired by Your National Parks
A Marmot and Me
Today we hiked up to the Old Indian mine on a very steep trail. All around us were large rocks. I mean, these rocks were the size of cars! As we got close to the mine entrance, there were not so many trees. We were in a little hole in the side of the mountain.
We stopped here to have a drink of water. Water is really important when you are hiking. This was when my Dad explained that we would not go into the mine. My brother and I were really mad. What was the point of the hike if we couldn't go in? Dad explained that it might not be safe. Besides, he said, we doin't have flashlights and there are no lights in there!
What a bummer. We walked up to the mine entrance, and Dad was right. It was pretty dark in there after only a few yards. We could hear water dripping inside. Actually, I did not want to go in!
We ate our lunch there on the rocks outside the mine. It was a little cold, but the rocks in the sun were warm. Dad said we were like lizards in the sun.
I looked up and saw a fuzzy thing looking right at me. I guess we were quiet enouh for a while that it came up to see what we were. It had pretty thick brown and black fur, and was about the size of my cat. It had big black eyes.
My dad said it was a marmot. He said his dad had called them Whistle Pigs. We laughed and the marmot backed up a little. Dad said there used to be a lot of them here, so if we looked we could see them, and if we listened we could hear them. And we could! They made little squeaky whistling calls to each other.
The marmot near me stood up on two feet. He looked at me really hard. Then he ran over the edge of the rock.
Seeing the marmots made up for not seeing the mine. I guess sometimes the best things you see are by accident.
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