transcript

Speaker 1:
[00:00] I made my first book, Tom and His Seal, when I was seven. I still remember making the cardboard covers. That project gave me the first spark of confidence as a young writer. KiwiCo believes every kid can benefit from that type of hands-on project that builds problem-solving skills that can change the world. Whether it's about science, games, or geography, every KiwiCo crate is designed to inspire moments of discovery and, of course, fun. My 11-year-old son loved his first crate. He built his very own Domino Machine, an adorable little robot that lays your Dominos so you can do all kinds of cool challenges. Dominos were never popular in our house, but now, thanks to KiwiCo, my kids can spend hours on them. The day the KiwiCo box arrives will be your child's favorite day of the month, and there's something for all ages, from infants and preschoolers to teens and beyond. Redefine learning with play. Explore hands-on projects that build creative confidence with KiwiCo. Get 50% off your first month plus free shipping on any crate line at kiwico.com/stories. That's 50% off your first month at kiwico.com/stories. This is Rhea. Welcome to Little Stories for Tiny People. I love the mountains. There's something about reaching the top of a mountain that is unlike anything else. That's what this story is about. It features Kip, the squirrel we first met in A Walk in the Woods. He's back for another adventure. So, snuggle up with your blanket. Hold it close so a bear cannot snatch it away.

Speaker 2:
[02:11] Oh, excuse me.

Speaker 1:
[02:15] Our story is called To the Mountain's Peak. Take it away, Kaiya and Kaden. Remember, there are no pictures. You have to imagine the pictures in your mind. You can imagine them however you want. Okay, here we go. It was the middle of the night when Kip decided to venture to the Mountain's Peak. He had never hiked up there before. There was food to be gathered, tree repairs to be finished, and musical arrangements to be practiced for the upcoming Here Comes Spring, Hear It Sing festival in a few weeks. But Kip, a conscientious squirrel, had a nice store of nuts. His tree was in passable condition, and he'd been practicing his tuba devotedly for months. And ever since he'd heard the people discussing their plans to reach the Mountain's Peak, Kip couldn't seem to chase the idea from his mind. It was weeks ago. The chill of winter in the forest still clung to the trees, and Kip had been busily fixing his mailbox. A storm had rambled through the woods a day earlier, and the nail holding one side of the mailbox came loose, leaving it dangling, incapable of holding the many letters Kip received each week. He was outside fixing it first thing in the morning, when he heard the unmistakable footfalls of people in the forest. The only creatures less concerned about the forest knowing they were coming were bears. Bears, with their lumbering paw steps and their incessant grunting, signaled their arrival to everyone, and prompted all creatures to quickly hide their blankets from the bears' clutches. The commotion a bear created was enormously distracting when Kip was trying to practice his tuba. This was a source of amusement for Kip. Even without their trudging, he could smell them coming a half-mile away. Kip had been at work on the mailbox, fiddling with his screwdriver when two pairs of people crossed paths nearby. As he frequently did to keep his instincts sharp, he mentally rehearsed how he'd deal with one of the humans coming at him with one of their silly paws, a swift bite to the ankle, a scratch at the forearm, and, if need be, a leap onto the shoulder and a shriek into the- we're headed to the peak. Kip's ears perked up. He glanced at the people and saw they were having one of their conversations. He liked to listen, just to see what they were up to. It was strange how they announced all of their movements. Other creatures didn't do this. Woodland creatures, especially small ones, kept their plans close to their vests. If they weren't wearing vests, they'd keep them close to their fur. But people? Oh, they loved to telegraph their plans. I'm doing this. I'm going here. I'm taking my dog for a day at the spa. It's like they don't even care who knows, Kip thought to himself. He went back to listening. Oh, we haven't been up there yet. Seems like quite a hike. What's the summit, 11,000 feet? Twelve. Sounds like an adventure. Enjoy. Thanks. Take care. Kip watched as the two pairs of people parted ways, their footfalls echoing in his ears, then growing faint. The peak, the summit, what did it mean? There was a time, in his younger days, when Kip would not have listened closely to a conversation amongst people, but ever since he learned, a few years back, that people took walks in the woods for no particular reason at all, in fact, took them just because. He'd paid attention. Based on the people's enthusiasm, he himself had taken a walk in the woods. It had changed his life. Since then, he had taken many more just-because walks, and though he did find people to be rather silly, ungraceful creatures, he now understood they did have some wisdom to share. And here they were again, planting ideas in his little mind, the peak, the summit. Kip had the vague idea that these words referred to the top of the mountain. He had never been there. It was a distance away. He knew he lived at the base of a mountain. He'd observed water flowing downward, streaming into tiny waterfalls, and eventually into a tidy reservoir where Kip collected his water. There were mountain animals, lions, goats, creatures that were skilled at traversing craggy terrain. Mountain life was all around him, but Kip had not thought too much about the mountain's peak. Kip was usually alone as he went about his work, and sometimes, though he would never admit it to you if you asked, sometimes he'd talk to himself just to think things through. There must be something special about the mountain's peak, something about it that's different from the rest of the mountain. But what could it be? Kip turned this over in his mind that morning as he fixed his mailbox. When he was done, he tested it, opening and closing the tiny door. All ready for letters, he said, smiling to himself. Over the next few weeks, as the sharpness of winter gave way to the ease of spring, Kip's mind kept circling back to the question of the mountain's peak. Within a dream. The dream was ethereal and fuzzy. There was no storyline to it. But when Kip woke from it in the middle of the night, sitting up in his little bed, he knew exactly what the dream was about and what he would have to do next. I will venture to the mountain's peak. He whispered to himself in the dark. It wasn't long before he realized he had no idea how to reach the mountain's peak. It had seemed simple enough as Kip had readied himself for the adventure. If he moved in an upwards fashion, he'd be bound to reach the summit. Kip decided to ask creatures along his way, despite it meaning he'd have to reveal his plans. He encountered a toad sitting so still on a rock, it looked like a statue. Kip nearly walked right past it. In addition to being completely still, the toad was the precise color of the rock. The only evidence it was not a statue was that every now and then, the toad blinked its eyes. The blinks were so swift, Kip thought he might have imagined them. Nice camouflage, Kip said, coming to a stop before the toad. Camouflage, yes, the toad replied. So the toad was concealed not just by his coloring, but by the lack of light. Do you know the way to the mountain's peak? The mountain's peak. Yes, do you know the way? Kip peered at the toad. He remembered just then. Toads were known for being inscrutable. This was probably not the best creature to ask for directions. Have you ever been to the mountain's peak? Kip asked, not ready to give up. The toad blinked its big eyes. It remained completely still. The mountain's peak, the toad repeated. Yes, the summit. Do you know the way? The way, the toad began, its eyes wider than ever. Is up, the toad finished. It closed its eyes tightly. Camouflaging himself fully, as if to say, we are done. Kip took the hint and said goodbye. And scampered into the woods. The way is up, he muttered to himself. The toad wasn't wrong. Kip eventually found a path that seemed to consistently travel up the mountain. The sun lifted above the trees, and the forest was bathed in early morning light. Day creatures crept from their burrows and nests. Kip watched for birds of prey above. Hello, came a voice from behind a shrub. Kip was startled but tried to hide it. A tall squirrel emerged. The squirrel was wearing plaid pants, similar to Kip's. The tall squirrel seemed to notice the pants connection, but neither of them mentioned it. This is my territory, the squirrel said, peering at Kip. Oh dear, some squirrels are highly territorial. Kip tried to avoid them as they could be aggressive. He sniffed the air. I wouldn't recommend that. The winds are coming. Kip frowned. He sniffed the air too. Doesn't seem like it to me, he murmured. But in truth, he couldn't tell. And if the winds did come, that could be a problem. Oh, they're coming. You'd better head on home. Kip had to move away from this squirrel, winds or no winds. He trudged on, feeling relieved when he was well out of the tall squirrel's territory. He continued up the mountain. But the squirrel was right. The winds did come. Kip felt embarrassed he hadn't sensed them. He was glad he didn't have to hear the tall squirrel gloat. The winds were powerful and blustery, and for a few minutes, Kip was pinned to a large tree, holding onto it with his tiny claws so as to not be blown away. He managed to scrabble up the lofty tree and find refuge under its canopy. The winds came. When the winds came, it was unpredictable how long they would last. He wondered what he'd do if that happened again. With effort, he pushed the thought from his mind. As he glanced around, getting his bearings, settling in to his temporary resting spot, he saw a pinprick of light coming through a large leaf just over his shoulder. He put his eye up against the opening and peered through. He was very high up, and he had come far in his journey. When he peered through the hole in the leaf, he had a perfect view of the mountain's summit. Kip felt excitement build within him and wondered what it would be like to sit atop those rocks and look out. Kip stared through the leaf for a while, losing track of time, until he noticed everything had become still. The winds were gone. Kip guessed two hours had passed as the sun was much higher in the sky as he crept down from the oak tree. He took a sip of water and tossed some seeds in his mouth. Then he set off towards the peak. The next few hours were challenging. Kip spent a good portion of them leaping from tree to tree, as it was quicker than scampering along the ground. As he gained elevation, the air cooled and became thin. It was late afternoon when Kip stopped on the flat spot of a boulder beneath a pine tree to take a rest. From his perch, Kip could look out and see the lovely downward slope of the ground, showing him how far he'd come. As he rested, allowing himself to adjust to the altitude, he felt the fur on his neck stand up. He sensed he was being watched. His ears perked up. He glanced around, eyes wide. He was being watched. There was an enormous, ominous-looking crow. It was watching him intently, its head cocked to one side. Kip knew he should be relieved it was only a crow, and not a hawk or a big cat. He looked closer. The bird fixed a beady eye on him. It was not a crow. It was a grackle. Kip felt a shiver run through his tail. Though grackles were smaller than crows, they always gave him the creeps. It was the way they looked at him, like he might make a tasty meal. They also had the kind of grating call that could set a squirrel's teeth on edge. At that very moment, Kip heard lumbering steps of something big moving through the forest. Distracted by the grackle's stony glare, Kip couldn't work out whether it was a bear or a human before the creature emerged from the trees. It was two people. They didn't notice Kip or the grackle as they passed. They were gone as quickly as they'd come. Hmm. Enchanted boots, the grackle murmured. Excuse me? Kip said. Oh, did I say that out loud? The grackle said, not looking at Kip. The humans were wearing enchanted boots. Enchanted? What do you mean? Kip said. Glad the grackle was no longer staring at him. Enchanted, yes.

Speaker 2:
[21:59] They wear magical boots.

Speaker 1:
[22:02] Humans are weak creatures. Their foot paws tire easily. Within minutes, they wear enchanted boots to allow them to travel long distances. Kip was skeptical, but kept it to himself. How do you know about this? The grackle fixed a beady eye on Kip, and once again, he felt a prickle on his neck. You should come to one of my seminars. Seminars? I'm an expert on human behavior. I give talks on different human-related topics. I'll be hosting a talk this coming Wednesday. It's about the connection between human haircuts and the phases of the moon. My seminars begin promptly at 7, 13 p.m., 7.13. Um, I'll think about it. Hey, I'm heading to the Mountain's Peak. Do you know much about it? The Mountain's Peak? Yes. I suppose it would interest you. Kip furrowed a brow. The Mountain's Peak is nothing compared to the open sky. The grackle gazed upward at the clouds. But it is the closest you'll ever get. And with that, the grackle spread its wings and lifted into the air. Before he was out of sight, Kip heard him say, Come to my seminar. There will be lemon cookies. Kip shook his head and chuckled, watching the grackle disappear into the blue. He hadn't realized how tense he'd been with the imperious bird glaring at him until he was no longer there. It seemed as though the grackle had meant to dismiss the allure of the mountain's peak. But Kip focused on the words, It's the closest you'll ever get. He could get close to the open sky if only he kept going. And beyond that, he could see, well, he could see for what felt like forever. Out in the distance, there were more mountains. Kip's life was spent among leaves, acorns, grasses. Trees were the biggest things he encountered. He was small. He focused his eyes on small things. But up here, he could not make out a single leaf, let alone an acorn, on a distant tree. The expanse of his view from the mountain's peak reminded him of how very small he was in a big wide world. It was a beautiful feeling. And then, as if the vista before him couldn't resist making itself even more beautiful, the sun set. Kip felt a shiver run through him, not of fear or cold, but of awe. And just like on his first walk in the woods, when he had seen the full moon, a glorious round lamp lighting up the forest, he was struck by the fact that none of this was guaranteed. The winds could have lasted for days. He could have been waylaid by a mountain goat, known for their aspirations to be comedians. He could have been stuck for whole minutes listening to an endless joke. And he wouldn't have known. He would never have known what he had missed. How many times had that happened in his life? How many times had he just missed something incredible and never even known it? It didn't matter. He had not missed the sunset. He had not missed the gift of the Mountain's Peak. Do you hear that? The mountains are calling. You'd better go. But truly, there is nothing quite like being on a mountain's peak. If you haven't been, I hope you get there someday, before sunset. I think it's time for bed. Little Stories for Tiny People is written, performed, and produced by me, Rhea Pechter. My in-house tech director, Peter Kay, runs my website and puts my stories in the Internet for all of you to enjoy. Thank you to Kaiya and Kaden for the super important reminder message at the beginning. Thank you to my Little Stories Premium subscribers for supporting the show and making it possible for me to continue creating stories for children around the world. You can become a Premium subscriber to hear more stories and get an ad-free listening experience. Find the link in the episode description or visit littlestoriespremium.com. And thank you, as always, for listening in.