The Wild Robot

The robot was heavy, but she was no trouble for the giant animal. Mother Bear strolled along as if it were perfectly normal for a robot to be riding on her back. They made quite a grand procession, all walking together like that. And the procession became even grander as deer and raccoons and birds and all kinds of other animals joined in. Everyone wanted to see the mother robot riding the mother bear. The group wound its way past ancient trees, and over rolling meadows, and through babbling streams, collecting more and more curious animals as they went. It was the grandest parade of wildlife anyone had ever seen, and leading the way was our robot, Roz.

But the parade couldn’t last forever. As the sun went down, the other animals began drifting away, one by one, and when the parade finally arrived at the Nest, only the original members remained.

“Here we are,” said Mother Bear, helping Roz down into the garden. “Now, wasn’t that better than crawling all the way home?”

“Oh, yes, that was wonderful!” said the robot. “I cannot imagine a better ending to this day. Thank you very much.”

“Yeah, that was amazing!” squeaked the gosling. “My friends won’t believe me when I tell them I rode across the island on the back of a bear!”

“I’m glad you enjoyed yourselves!” Mother Bear smiled. “It’s the least I could do after all the trouble these two caused.” Her smile became a frown, and she glared at her cubs, who suddenly took great interest in a pebble on the ground.

It was late, and it had been a long, difficult day for everyone, so the bears said good-bye and headed back to their cave. Brightbill and Roz stood in the garden and watched their new friends lumber away. And then the gosling said, “Mama, do you think you’ll ever walk again?”

“I am not sure,” said the robot, “but I know who to ask for help. Now go get ready for bed.”

CHAPTER 48 THE NEW FOOT

Mr. Beaver squinted at Roz’s stump.

“I’ve never built a foot before.” He stroked his whiskers and muttered to himself. “There are really three problems to solve. The foot needs to grip the ground. And it needs to be durable. And then there’s the issue of fixing it to the leg. I might have to consult a few friends.”

“Will she ever walk again?” said Brightbill.

“What’s that?” Mr. Beaver was lost in thought. “Oh, not to worry. You just sit back and leave everything to me. I love a challenge!”

Mr. Beaver plunked into the pond, and returned a while later rolling a large section of a tree trunk. “Say hello to your new foot!” he said, slapping the wood with his tail.

“Hello, new foot,” said the robot.

“That’s the spirit! This beauty is from one of the hardest trees I ever chewed. I just need to make a few modifications.”

Mr. Beaver placed the piece of wood next to Roz. He squinted, repositioned the piece, and squinted some more. With his claws, he marked different spots on the wood. And then he put his big chompers to work. The beaver chewed and gnawed and carved up that piece of wood, turning it over and over in his paws.

Chitchat looked down from a branch and chattered through the quiet moments. “This reminds me of the time I saw a fox catch a lizard by the tail and somehow the lizard’s tail fell off and he got away and later I saw that the lizard got a new tail and now Roz is going to get a new foot and everything will be fine…”

The wooden foot took shape, and before long Mr. Beaver was standing beside a beautiful carving that resembled a boot. He tried to slide it over Roz’s stump, but the opening was too small. So he scraped out more wood until it was a perfect fit.

“Very good,” he said, spitting out a wood chip. “My friends should be arriving any minute with the next few things we’ll need. And there they are now! I’d like you all to meet Bumpkin, Lumpkin, and Rumpkin. But I call them the Fuzzy Bandits.”

Three fat raccoons shuffled into the garden, dragging a tangle of vines behind them.

“Good day,” said Bumpkin.

“Good day,” said Lumpkin.

“Good day,” said Rumpkin.

You might already know this, reader, but raccoons have very nimble hands. And the Fuzzy Bandits used theirs to skillfully tie those vines around the robot’s leg and around her new foot. The vines caught nicely on all the dings and dents and scrapes. Once they were tied good and tight, Mr. Beaver threw back his head and hollered, “Trunktap! We could use your assistance!”

There was silence.

And then three quick taps echoed down from the forest canopy.

“Ah, that’ll be him,” said Mr. Beaver, smiling.

A very handsome woodpecker swooped into the garden. “You called?” came the woodpecker’s musical voice.

“Indeed I did! Everyone, this is my wood-pecking pal, Trunktap. Now, Trunky, we need some tree resin, the really sticky stuff. Can you help us out?”

“Of course I can!” said the woodpecker. “You’ve got a perfect pine right here!”