Freddy Looks for Home

In human terms, Freddy would be a ten-year old, but being an armadillo, he hadn’t really been around that long. The name Freddy is only an approximation of what his mama calls him, which can’t be translated into something we might understand, so we’ll just call him Freddy.

One afternoon, while Freddy sifted through the soil for tasty white grubs, he felt a tremor. He looked up from his task and noticed the skyline wiggling. Then it jumped up. At the same time, the dirt beneath him sunk several inches. Before alarm reached Freddy’s consciousness, the world fell away altogether! Down he went, sliding atop an ever shifting mass of grass and stone.

He had been digging close to the edge of a precipice—too close to avoid being swept off when part of the cliff-side shook loose in an earthquake! He screamed in a whiny little voice, fearing the earth would fall forever. But the ground beneath him stopped abruptly, and Freddy catapulted into the air, just like the time when his sister had bumped him aside trying to get a scorpion they’d both been after.

He knew hitting the ground would be rough and braced himself for impact. But, instead of smashing into something hard, Freddy plunged into icy-cold water. Instantly submerged into a dark swirling river, he couldn’t tell upside from down. Fortunately that didn’t matter, since his lungs were full of air—having filled them after all that screaming—and he bobbed right to the surface.

Being an armadillo, Freddy hadn’t that much experience with water, but he knew enough to paddle in order to keep his head up. But which way? He knew he couldn’t keep paddling until his legs gave out. He would drown. The sight of treetops popping above the waterline whenever he crested a wave gave him hope. He paddled hard in their direction.

Freddy finally came ashore and dragged himself up across mud and wet reeds to dry land. He rolled over several times to dry off, then lay still, exhausted. Thus, while upside down, he noticed the cliffs high above, from where he had initiated this journey, from which he had fallen. His home and family must be up there somewhere.

Freddy considered the problem for a long time. How would he get home, knowing it would not be possible to climb back up that steep cliff? After rubbing his eyes, he gazed up and down the river. There appeared to be only one way to get back. He would follow the river until the cliffs turned into gentle hills he could climb. Again, the question—which way? Upstream or downstream? The young armadillo never had to make a choice this important before.

He tried to reason it out, telling himself if he went upstream, he would gradually gain altitude, since all rivers flowed downhill. Therefore, when reaching the end of the cliffs, he would have much less climbing to do on his journey home. But he might meet with unforeseen obstacles, such as a waterfall, which might be difficult to get around.

Traveling downstream though, might just lead to steeper and higher cliffs. Maybe even a village where the dreaded humans live. He knew the humans were dreaded, but his mother had never told him why. He certainly did not want to find out. Their villages were always located downstream. So, after a bit of thought, Freddy opted to head upstream.

The trek upriver took a toll on Freddy’s feet. He’d never walked this far during a single outing, ever. His luck was good up to now, though. He’d been plodding upstream for hours, with the cliffs over his right shoulder getting significantly less daunting. That brought a smile to his face.

Occasionally, he would take a lunch break, turning over a couple of rocks to find a worm or a succulent salamander to dine on. Then he resumed the journey, thinking of the stories he could tell his fellows, as they gathered to hear of his exploits. The bad part about it—those exploits were now in the making, and weren’t much fun, yet.

As the shadows lengthened with the sun drifting low across the river, a loud, sharp sound stopped him cold. It seemed more of a pop or a snap, echoing off the cliffs, around the clouds and back to the water. Then, before he could continue, it sounded again!

Movement ahead put him on guard, then something rustled near the bush he found himself under. A squirrel ran toward him, as if being hunted by a pack of wolves. Freddy had little use for squirrels, but they weren’t vicious creatures, just kind of nutty. This one appeared to be extremely alarmed.

While Freddy sat under the bush, the squirrel spotted him. The speedy creature jumped into the foliage and peered down at the little armadillo, chattering and barking while his tail jerked up and down as if caught in a whirlwind.

Freddy had never learned squirrel talk, but he could tell something wasn’t right. Of course, that always seemed to be the case with squirrels. They preferred being alone, going about their business of burying nuts for the winter, then digging them up again when supplies ran short.

When someone witnessed or interfered with this work, whether another squirrel, or a mere armadillo, squirrels always made a fuss. But something seemed different this time. Freddy could feel it—he just didn’t know what.

Then another loud crack sounded and echoed, and a branch near the squirrel splintered and dropped right next to Freddy.

A human! Out here! Aiming to kill that squirrel. Freddy wished it would shut up, so the human wouldn’t know the squirrel was still there, in the bush—with Freddy. But the squirrel continued leaping around, chattering even louder.

Freddy thought he should do something to make the human go away, for both their sakes. But what to do? Then a plan materialized. He would run out from under the bush and draw the human’s attention to himself, and away from that nutty, chattering squirrel. After that, he would just disappear, and they’d both be safe.

Without further thought, the armadillo launched himself from under the bush, and waddled like an armored duck, toward a large stone in the clearing. Crrrack! The loud noise sounded again, and a cloud of dirt puffed up directly in front of Freddy. It’s working, he thought, with mixed feelings. Maybe too well!

He reached the stone and squatted down close to it, hoping the human would not have seen where he’d gotten to. But alas, Freddy’s luck had run out. As he attempted to make himself smaller behind the stone, a long shadow fell over him. He looked up to see a human staring down, examining the rock and Freddy. The man wore a beat up dirty hat, and his face sprouted a brush of curly hair. He carried what Freddy knew to be the killing weapon, and he pointed the narrow end straight at the poor armadillo. Freddy averted his eyes, shivered in fear, and wondered what it would be like to die.

Then he heard a tiny, squeaky voice seeming to plead with the human. “Daddy! Don’t shoot him! He’s sooo cute! Please don’t kill him!”

Freddy peeked over his paws to see a miniature-sized human girl, with big blue eyes, curly red hair and freckles over her entire face. She jumped up and down, pulling on the big hairy human’s pant-leg. “Daddy, we have to take him home. I love him!”

Home? Freddy could feel the words. He thought, does she mean what I think that means? A warm, safe place, with family all around—her words exuded that feeling. Freddy rose on all four feet, shook his head down to his tail, and sat back expectantly.

The hairy man lowered the weapon and nodded once. The girl scooped up the young armadillo, kissed him on the nose, then tucked him under her arm, and ran back across the clearing.

Freddy thought, home—I’m going home!

But he soon realized home meant something entirely different to this enthusiastic, bouncy, girl human, who carried him across the countryside, tucked in a warm armpit. Upon reaching her home, a small wooden cabin clinging to a hilltop in the middle of a meadow, she thrust Freddy unceremoniously into his—a wire cage. She closed the door, proclaiming, “I shall call you Tuffy!”

So she fed ‘Tuffy’ canned cat food, which he never got used to, but he survived. It was like feeding Twinkies to a cow, a creature whose whole life is devoted to grain and stems.

The human girl, he heard her being called ‘Tyke’, never strayed far from Freddy, or Tuffy, as he had to get used to being called. She always carried him around, lavishing affection on him whenever she wasn’t occupied with her chores.

Her mom and dad assigned her plenty of chores. She had to sweep the kitchen every day. And help her mom with the washing and the cooking. She pulled weeds in the garden, and once a week accompanied her mom and dad to market, where they traded eggs and milk for shoes and fabric, and sometimes bananas. And, of course, cat food.

But fate interceded for Freddy on one of those trips. That day they traveled to the market as usual in the old family pickup—Mom and Dad up front, while Tyke and Tuffy rode in the back with all the trade goods. Tyke kept Tuffy under one arm while her other grasped the pickup’s side-panel the whole time. Her mom frowned on bringing Tuffy along, wanting him to stay at home in his cage. Tyke had insisted, though, and Mom sighed in acquiescence.

As they bounced along the dirt road, Mom always begged Dad to slow down, since “they weren’t going to a fire.” But Dad usually ignored the plea. This time, he should have been more attentive.

A doe bound from nowhere into the middle of the narrow road, and Dad slammed on the brakes, veering hard to miss the animal. Tyke had to grab the panel with both hands to keep from launching out of the truck bed. Without an arm pinning him down, the young armadillo flew out of the girl’s lap.

Freddy rolled across the bed, bounced over the opposite side-panel, and plunged into the wildflowers growing next to the road. He scrambled up in time to see the pickup continue to swerve as it rumbled away. His life with Tyke appeared to be over.

Freddy knew trucks always traveled along roads like this, and he also knew they never swerved out of the way for an animal the size of an armadillo. No mystery now why his mother always referred to humans as ‘dreaded’. Of course, he chose not to cross over the road, turning tail to get as far away from the route as possible.

His adventure among the humans had taken Freddy on a large detour. The river had guided him in his hunt for home, but they had left the river behind. Now he didn’t know which direction would most likely bring him back on course. So, he chose the direction he already headed. Not really a choice, but maybe the only one he had aside from just sitting there.

Once more he got underway, trusting to luck to point him toward home, and the routine soon set in—walk, snack, nap. When the sky darkened, Freddy would dig a hole and hunker down for the night. When the sun rousted him in the morning, he would wiggle around until he recalled where he was and what he had to do.

As the day wore on, Freddy became woefully aware of each footstep, one after another. Hope diminished with each step. His deepening gloom started him thinking he might roam aimlessly until...he halted—and noticed something familiar about the distant peaks that stirred his emotions to a frenzy.

Tears rolled down his cheeks. He looked around, realizing he had been here before! Somehow, he had blundered into familiar country! He twisted around this way, then that. Almost making himself dizzy. Dizzy with glee! He pointed himself forward.

“That way!”

Home must be just over that rise, he thought, and waddled as fast as he could, crossing the low hill, down into a hollow. A small group of armadillos busied themselves there. One in particular stood out to Freddy. His mother sat and worried over a snail shell. She looked up, ears perking in keen recognition as he rushed to her.

“Freddy,” she called to him, casting the shell aside. “Is that you?” She scurried close to sniff him. “You sure had us wondering this time! You’ve been gone so long, we thought you might have gotten too close to one of those roads the humans use. I don’t know how many times I’ve told you not to wander!”

“Mama,” said Freddy, “I’ve been with the humans on one of those roads. And that’s just part of it—I’ve had so many exploits I can’t wait to tell you about!”