Ann Martin - Mary Anne And Camp

"Easy,” said Jessi, stepping in. "You can be my buddy, Claire."

Claire's pout became a frown, then a smile, and another disaster was averted.

"Everybody fall in," shouted Kristy. She waved good-bye to me and led the way across the field behind our house toward the strip of woods that marched up the hills there. Mrs. Towne owned the field, but she leased it to the Stones who lived farther down the road and they kept it mowed for hay. Right now the field was just sprouting new green grass, and birds were swooping down over it, looking for insects.

They hadn't gone very far when Kristy stopped and pointed upward. "Look! A hawk!"

Everyone stopped and looked into the sky. A hawk was circling above. The BSC members had borrowed binoculars from their parents, ranging from the big clunky ones that Logan's father had owned since he was a kid to a lightweight pair belonging to Watson. The campers all took turns looking at the hawk.

"He's looking at me, he's looking at me," Karen cried. She pulled back from the binoculars, shoved them at Kristy and ducked down behind her. "Don't let him catch me! Don't let him eat me!"

This, of course, provoked panic among the younger campers, until Mal started laughing. "Wouldn't that hawk look silly if he — or she — came down and tried to pick you up? All the other hawks would laugh at him, because they know that hawks never, ever bother people."

"Do hawks laugh?" asked Claire, forgetting to be scared.

"Well, nobody knows for sure, Claire," said Dawn. "But some animals laugh."

"Carrot laughs," said Charlotte Johanssen, talking about her pet schnauzer. "Whenever he's playing and you hold the ball up, his tongue hangs out and he laughs."

"Hyenas laugh," said Haley.

"And cuckoo birds," said Logan.

"What about monkeys?" asked Becca.

The campers made it across the field without any more frights. And the hawk stayed right where he was.

On the trail the kids saw the hoofprints of deer and talked about the spots on fawns that help disguise them. They saw a chipmunk. Marilyn, who has a very good ear, helped identify the song of a cardinal. They checked out the flowers that were growing and the blooms that were on the trees. And then they reached the gate at the end of the field behind the Stones' farmhouse and barns.

Mrs. Stone was expecting everybody, of course. She came out of the barn, wearing overalls and big boots and holding a pitchfork.

"Have you been mucking out stalls?" asked Mal. Mucking out stalls means cleaning them. As a horse fanatic, Mal knows everything there is to know about horses — and their stalls.

"Just moving a little hay around," said Mrs. Stone. "Welcome to our farm, everyone."

"We've been here before," said Carolyn and Marilyn in unison. As usual, they didn't seem to notice when they spoke at exactly the same time.

"So you have," said Mrs. Stone, smiling. "You came with Mary Anne."

"She had to stay home this time. With one of the babies," said Karen scornfully.

"Karen," said Kristy warningly.

"Sorry," said Karen, instantly contrite.

Mrs. Stone looked at her watch. "Mr. Stone will be back in a little while, but in case he gets delayed, why don't we start our tour of the farm. We'll start with the barn. It's a lot like the barn at Mary Anne and Dawn's. In fact, the basic structure was built at about the same time. But this barn has changed a bit over the years because it's been used steadily since the seventeen hundreds, which means

that it has to be repaired and repainted and so forth."

The twenty-one campers and seven babysitters stepped into the coolness of the huge old barn behind Mrs. Stone and she showed them the hayloft and explained about storing hay and what it was used for. She let everyone pat the soft noses of two of the cows who were in the barn. "They're about ready to have their calves and we wanted them dose by to keep an eye on them,” she explained. "We're not a cattle farm, we're a produce farm, but we keep a few heads of cattle for milk and butter and to sell the calves. We sell the extra milk and butter, too."

"You keep the heads of cows?" a voice said worriedly.

Mrs. Stone laughed. "Now who asked that question?"

"Me," said Jamie. "Jamie."

"Hi, Jamie. No, not the heads. Head is just a way of referring to the animal. Of counting. Three heads of cattle means three cows."

"Oh." Jamie looked very relieved.

Mrs. Stone showed everyone the tractor and the old plow that the tractor had replaced. She explained how hay was baled and how cows were milked.

When we went outside again, she let everyone throw a handful of feed down for the chickens that were scattered around the barnyard.

"We did this before, too," said Marilyn. Carolyn nodded.

"Can chickens be in a circus?" asked Claire.

"Of course not," said Ricky. "Don't you know anything about circuses?"

"No, she doesn't," Hannie whispered loudly to Nancy. "She hasn't been to a real circus camp."

Mrs. Stone said, "I've never seen a chicken in a circus, but I suppose one might be. Pigs have been in circuses, you know."

She led the way to the pigpen, where a mother pig and her babies were lying contentedly in the mud.

"Peeee-uuuuuu," cried Bobby.

"Pigs are really very clean animals," said Kristy. "They lie in the mud to keep cool and to keep flies off."

"Right, Kristy. And they are smart," added Mrs. Stone. "They are considered some of .the smartest animals in the world, and in ancient times were taught tricks and treated as performing animals."

"Maybe we could borrow a pig for our circus," said Haley.

Kristy quickly stepped in and put a stop to that idea, then let the campers tell Mrs. Stone

about the upcoming circus as she led them toward the goat pen.

Naturally, the kids who'd been to circus camp remained aloof, after making it dear that they'd been to a "real" circus camp.

However, the circus camp rivalries were forgotten when the group reached Elvira's enclosure.

Elvira Stone, the world's cutest baby goat (but growing rapidly) and a former babysitting (goat-sitting?) charge, came bounding up to the fence. She was used to visitors and knew that visitors meant being admired and petted and maybe even fed some treats.

She wasn't wrong. Everyone crowded around and asked Mrs. Stone a million questions about Elvira. Mal even asked if it was true that goats eat tin cans.

"I've never seen a goat eat a tin can," said Mrs. Stone. "But they will take a nibble on almost anythi—"

"Aaaughh! Aaaughh! Help! I'm being eaten by a goat!"

Claire Pike came leaping through the crowd. There was a tearing sound.

"Baaaahhh," said Elvira, trying to follow Claire.

"Save me, save me!" shrieked Claire, ducking behind Jessi.

Dawn reached out and caught Elvira by

wrapping one arm around her neck. Thinking she was being hugged (and more or less right about it), Elvira stopped immediately — all except her jaw, which kept working. A short strip of cotton T-shirt was hanging out of her mouth like a blue tongue.

Claire looked out from behind Jessi.

"Oops," said Mal. "Looks like you're going to get a new shirt, Claire."

Some of the kids started to laugh. Claire looked around. Her face grew red.