The Wild Robot

“Harmless? Really? Well, you do seem rather gentle. And I heard someone say that you don’t eat any food at all, which makes no sense, but hopefully it means you won’t eat me?”

“I will not eat you,” said the robot.

“I’m so glad to hear that,” said the opossum. And a moment later, she too stepped into the moonlight. “It’s nice to meet you, Roz.” A weak smile appeared on Pinktail’s pointy face.

Roz thought things were going really well. But she didn’t know what to say next. Neither did Pinktail. So the two friendly creatures just stood there together and listened to the crickets for a while.

“Well, I should be on my way,” said Pinktail at last. “Have a nice evening, Roz.”

“Have the nicest evening, Pinktail. I shall look forward to the pleasure of encountering you again in the future. Soon, I hope. Farewell.”

With that awkward good-bye, Pinktail slipped back into the weeds and Roz climbed back into the tree.

CHAPTER 27 THE GOSLING

Something was happening inside the goose egg.

Tap, tap, tap.

Tap, tap, tap.

Tap, tap, CRUNCH!

A tiny bill poked through the eggshell, peeped once, and then continued crunching away. The hole grew bigger and bigger, and then, like a robot breaking from a crate, the hatchling pulled himself out into the world.

He lay quietly in his nest with his eyes closed, surrounded by chips of broken shell. And when his eyes slowly winked open, the very first thing he saw was the robot looking back.

“Mama! Mama!” peeped the gosling.

“I am not your mother,” said the robot.

“Mama! Mama!”

“I am not your mother.”

“Food! Food!”

The gosling was hungry. Of course he was. So, using her friendliest voice, Roz said, “What would you like to eat, little darling?”

“Food!” was the only response. The hatchling was far too young to be helpful. Roz needed to find a grown goose. So she scooped up the nest with the gosling inside, placed it on her flat shoulder, and marched through the forest, searching for geese.

CHAPTER 28 THE OLD GOOSE

Ordinarily, the forest animals would have run away from the monster. But they were awfully curious why she was carrying a hatchling on her shoulder. And once Roz explained the situation, the animals actually tried to help. A frog pointed Roz up to the squirrels. A squirrel recommended that she speak with the magpies. And then a magpie sent them over to the beaver pond.

The ground grew soggier, the grass grew taller, and soon the robot and the gosling were looking across a wide, murky pond. Dragonflies buzzed through the reeds. Turtles sunned themselves on a log. Schools of small fish gathered in the shadows. And there, floating in the center of the pond, was an old gray goose.

“A very good morning to you!” the robot’s friendly voice boomed over the water. “I have an adorable little gosling with me!”

The goose just stared.

“I am in great need of your assistance!” said Roz. “Actually, the gosling is in need of your assistance!”

The goose didn’t move.

“Food!” peeped the gosling. “Food! Food!”

That tiny voice was more than the old goose could bear, and she began gliding across the pond and squawking to the robot, “What are you doing with that hungry hatchling? Where are his parents?”

“There was a terrible accident,” said Roz. “It was my fault. This gosling is the only survivor.”

“If there was a terrible accident, why does your voice sound so cheerful?” The goose flapped her wings. “Are you sure you didn’t eat his parents?”

“I am sure I did not eat his parents,” said Roz, returning to her normal voice. “I do not eat anything, including parents.”

The goose squinted at the robot. Then she said, “Do you know who his parents were?”

“I do not know.”

“Well, they must have belonged to one of the other flocks on the island, because nobody in my flock is missing.”

“Will you take the gosling?”

“I most certainly will not!” squawked the goose. “I can’t take in every orphan I see! You say this is your fault? It seems to me that it’s up to you to make things right.”

“Mama! Mama!” peeped the gosling.

“I have tried to tell him that I am not his mother,” said the robot. “But he does not understand.”

“Well, you’ll have to act like his mother if you want him to survive.”

There was that word again—act. Very slowly, the robot was learning to act friendly. Maybe she could learn to act motherly as well.

“You do want him to survive, don’t you?” said the goose.

“Yes, I do want him to survive,” said the robot. “But I do not know how to act like a mother.”

“Oh, it’s nothing, you just have to provide the gosling with food and water and shelter, make him feel loved but don’t pamper him too much, keep him away from danger, and make sure he learns to walk and talk and swim and fly and get along with others and look after himself. And that’s really all there is to motherhood!”

The robot just stared.

“Mama! Food!” said the gosling.

“Now would probably be a good time to feed your son,” said the goose.

“Yes, of course!” said the robot. “What should I feed him?”