The Great Fish Rescue

The hatchery caretaker, a broad, kindly woman named Mrs. Brindle, came rushing out of the main building.

She carried a lantern and wore a raincoat over her nightclothes.

"What happened here?"

The heron pointed at the broken gate.

"The water's rising! The lower pond is overflowing!"

Mrs. Brindle hurried toward the damaged channel.

"If we don't slow that water down, we'll lose half the young fish!"

Boss Otter looked at his clan.

"Family, you heard her!"

He pointed toward the lower bank.

"Mabel, find the safest place to move the fish. Pip and Squeak, stop shouting like farm animals and help Grandpa Gus gather the buckets. Rocco, can your gang carry supplies?"

Rocco blinked.

"You want us to help?"

"Unless you'd rather explain to the entire town why you were stealing fish during a flood."

Rocco considered this.

"Fair point."

For once, nobody argued.

The otters knew the river better than anyone. They understood the currents, the shallows, and the little channels that wound through the banks.

The raccoons were excellent climbers and surprisingly good at carrying things.

The heron kept watch over the water levels while Mrs. Brindle organized the rescue.

Willa studied the damaged gate.

"Papa, the current is pushing against the loose boards. If we try to force them back into place, they'll break apart."

Boss examined the channel.

"Then what do we do?"

"We don't fight the water. We give it somewhere else to go."

She pointed toward an old overflow channel choked with fallen branches.

"If we clear that, some of the water can flow around the damaged gate."

Mrs. Brindle looked at the little otter with surprise.

"She's right."

Boss puffed out his chest.

"Of course she's right. She's my assistant brains."

Willa rolled her eyes.

But she was smiling.

The clan got to work.

The raccoons climbed along the bank, pulling branches from the overflow channel.

Mabel and the twins carried smaller pieces away.

Grandpa Gus supervised from a dry rock, offering advice that was only occasionally helpful.

"Try pulling that one!"

"Which one?" Pip shouted.

"The big one!"

"THEY'RE ALL BIG!"

"Then pull a little one!"

Meanwhile, Boss and Rocco worked together to secure the loose gate long enough for Mrs. Brindle to close the water controls.

It was muddy, exhausting work.

More than once, Boss slipped into the water.

More than once, Rocco laughed at him.

And more than once, Rocco slipped into the water himself.

By midnight, the overflow channel was clear.

The water began to slow.

The damaged gate was secured, and the young fish settled back into the ponds.

The worst was over.

Mrs. Brindle wiped her forehead.

"Well," she said, "that was quite an evening."

The heron retrieved his clipboard.

He looked at the muddy otters, the soaked raccoons, and the twins who were still wearing duck costumes.

Then he looked at the empty buckets.

"Can somebody please explain why there are seven otters, five raccoons, and two very strange ducks in my hatchery?"

Nobody answered.

Grandpa Gus raised a paw.

"Do you have any sandwiches?"