“The New Folks”
by John McGondel, Nov. 2003.

 The chipmunk watched inquisitively as the creatures bustled about. The chipmunk could not comprehend what they were doing, it just sat there nibbling on an acorn, getting ready to carry four more in its pouch to the hollow tree. The tree was half full of acorns, which the chipmunk would use as food over the cold time. Meanwhile the creatures moved things around in a senseless display of wasted work, at least as far as the chipmunk was concerned.

 Suddenly the chipmunk’s ears went up, and the little rodent squeaked loudly, as it hopped away as quickly as it could, acorns left behind, forgotten on the forest floor among the brown pine needles. A large bare foot stepped cautiously where the chipmunk had been sitting. The foot belonged to a man, one of the creatures that the chipmunk had been watching. The man was carrying a sack full of nuts, which like the chipmunk he was planning to store for the soon-to arrive bleak and frigid Winter. The man stopped briefly to watch his people, again much like the chipmunk had done. He wondered and worried constantly how they would ever be able to get through another Winter like the last…

 He muttered an almost silent prayer as he resumed his walk back to the encampment. Some called it a fort, but he knew that fort was not even close to what it was. The word fort was conjured up by the elders to invoke feelings of comfort among the families. Comfort was sorely needed indeed, since their numbers had dwindled to seventeen since they had first arrived. Sixty they had been when they landed on the rocky shore of the forbidding North Atlantic coastline. Sixty. Now reduced by starvation and the harsh elements to seventeen. Seventeen desperate people, forlorn and despairing of hope.

 The man had seen the evidence again that very day, evidence of their not being the only people in the area. He had seen the many footprints from where the others had stood, watching the seventeen survivors. He had seen one of them, they had surprised each other in the forest, and had stood, a few yards away, and stared at each other. Although scared and ready to bolt, the man had stayed and tried to communicate to the other. He had raised his hand in a gesture of friendship, to which the other had responded by quickly lifting his spear. The man had then lowered his hand, slowly to his side, and the other had lowered his spear. A silent dialogue was passed between them. The other turned to leave, but briefly hesitated, and stooped to place something on the forest carpet. He then vanished into the woods as if he had been nothing more than a wisp of gray smoke.

 The man had walked to where the other had been, and reached to pick up what he had left on the ground. It was a leather pouch filled with some manner of dried meal. The man tasted it and found it to not be bad, then he quickly ate half of it, stopping himself from finishing it only because of the shame he felt at his people’s famished states. He bent to the spot again, and gently laid his skinning knife where the pouch had been, and left the area to return to the encampment.

 There was quite a fuss over the meal that the man had returned with, and some skepticism as well. The elders were shocked to hear how close he had been to one of the others, and even more so upon learning of his leaving of the knife. This called for a lot of discussion, away from the non-elders’ ears. After much expression of concern, and many dire warnings, the man announced that he would leave again the next morning to re-visit the spot where he had left his knife, after which everyone retired to their cold shelters and slept, except for the man. He was thinking about many things, but especially of food… The next morning found the man gone from the camp, and some despaired for his like. It was taken as fact that the others were godless heathens and as such would undoubtedly not hesitate to kill them all in their sleep. The man was given up for dead, and nobody expected him to return home that day. They were right about one thing, as he did not return home that day, nor the next, nor even the next after that. A quiet ceremony was held to pray for his soul, which everyone assumed and was sure had been released prematurely from his mortal flesh.

 By all counts it was a Thursday when the camp alarms went up, and those who possessed primitive firearms readied them for fighting. One of the younger boys had seen a large group of others marching toward the camp, and all were terrified, and prepared to die. There was much praying being done as the first of the others came from the woods, clad in dried animal skins. More followed behind him. The new people watched, certain of their impending doom, as the others separated like a river’s fork. Between them was the man, whom they had given up for dead many days earlier. He was carrying a large sack, which the new people now noticed each of the others also carried. The man put his sack down in front of the elder, and the rest of the others did the same. The elder stood still, transfixed in terror and confusion, as the man put his hand into the sack and withdrew a mouthful of meal, which he ate in front of everyone.

 The people stared expectantly at the food, and at the others. The others stared at the new people whom they had been watching for two Winters. The others had watched as the new people has tried to survive, and had watched them slowly die. There was honor in trying to live, and no honor in dying from starvation. So after much heated discussion among themselves, the others had decided to befriend the new people. They brought them the sacks of food which would help them through their Winter. They then took the new people to the ocean’s shore, and taught them to retrieve lobsters and crabs and fishes from the tidal pools. The new people had known about eating fishes, but not about crabs and lobsters, which were always in abundance after stormy weather.

 Later that afternoon, the man told his people that the others had seeds and would show them how to plant enough food-plants next Spring so as to feed themselves all year. There would never be a Winter of starvation again.

 It was a modest feast they had that evening: Lobster, crab, corn meal, crude bread, rabbit and deer meat. The others, with their reddish skin, and the new people, with their white skin, sat together and formed a pact of mutual support, which was sealed by the sharing of food. All were thankful for that first day of cooperation between the two vastly different cultures.

The chipmunk watched as he gathered his acorns, wondering in his primitive little mind what the commotion was all about. Then he place his acorns in the hollow tree.

And even though there were no turkeys eaten on that Thursday, there was much thanks given.