Mr. McCrunkstale's Inquiry
Doctor Galubrious,
Warm salutations to you and your daughters, I hope this letter finds you well. It is sugaring season here in New Hampshire and my family has been producing maple syrup in these northern woods for five generations. Last week, as the days grew warm, we set the taps and hung the buckets in the sugar bush. Tuesday, when we went gathering, I was alarmed to find that despite the nicely fluctuating temperatures, two of the sap buckets were entirely empty. Closer inspection revealed a maze of small, scavenged tubing leading from a hole drilled in the bottom of the buckets, and tracing a path back into an opening in the tree.
Ever since my neighbor’s youngest son Phillmore was rammed in the head by a Mama hog a good year ago he’s been known to do some mighty odd things (his mother is still getting over finding Marigold, one of the good milking jerseys, wearing her Sunday dress last Fall). So naturally my suspicions fell to the boy, and I over-looked the hooliganism. I replaced the bucket and disassembled the piping before heading back to the farm to tin up the holes as the first heavy flakes of an approaching storm began to fall. The weather kept me from checking the buckets until late the next day; it was then that I found the hole and piping reassembled, and no footprints anywhere to be found amongst the trees.
We are good, god-fearing folk and a not prone to fits of fancy, but I have always prided myself on an open mind and my wife has a head full of stories handed down by her French-Canadian/Iroquois mother. She tells stories of very small human-like creatures inhabiting this region long before our family began clearing these forests. I told her about the strange activity in the sugar bush and later that evening, as we sat by the fire she passed me over the “Farm and Cosmo” and quietly pointed to your advertisement.
Doctor, this is a small town, your arrival will be noticed without question. I request your highest discretion, as knowledge of your profession would make us the talk of church turkey dinners for years to come. If you were willing to come, we would be grateful for your expertise and will provide what compensation we can, your room and board, and all the pancakes you and your daughters can eat.
Please find enclosed a photograph taken in the sugar bush just two days ago.
With sincerity –
Mr. Archibald McCrunkstale
Winterbottom, New Hampshire
Composed by Dr. G on Saturday, Mar. 15, 2008
Gentle Reader Responses
Loryienne says:
This small creatures seem to be avid environmentalists, ardently opposed to robbing trees. Your negotiation skills may come in handy once more.
Why are they called bushes?--look like trees to me.
Maren says:
Oh the Northwestern maple syrup! We used up the last of the batch you so kindly sent us last fall just this morning on a heaping pile of french toast with strawberries. We may need to send away for some more soon as we don't want to be without once blueberry season is upon us and the blueberry pancakes will begin to appear on our table.
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