Benny Finds His Own Way

In a wide prehistoric meadow, a clear stream wound between grassy banks. It gurgled around smooth stones and carried little leaves along for a ride.

On one side of the stream, Benny the woolly mammoth calf sniffed the air. Across the water grew a patch of sweet clover. Its round leaves looked fresh and tender.

“I’m going over there,” Benny said. “That clover smells delicious.”

His friend Dot was already near the water. She was a little mammoth with quick feet and a jaunty swish to her tail.

“Watch me!” called Dot, stepping across the stream. She hopped from one small stone to another. Plip, plop, plip! Soon she was on the far bank.

Benny looked down at his much bigger feet. They were broad and furry, with toes that spread when he stood. He looked at the little stones Dot had used. They seemed rather small for him.

“I’ll try my own way,” he said.

Benny lifted one foot and set it on the nearest stone. The stone slid a little beneath his weight. Benny wobbled. His trunk swung left, then right, like a long, fuzzy rope.

“Whoa!” he cried, and quickly put his other foot back on the grass.

Dot peered across the stream. “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine,” Benny answered. “That stone was slippery.”

He tried another stone, one that looked flatter. But when he leaned forward, it tipped under his foot. Benny’s knees bent, and his ears flapped as he steadied himself on the bank.

The clover waited just across the water. Benny could smell its sweet, green scent, but he didn’t want to tumble into the stream.

Dot pointed to a line of small stones. “You can follow my steps!”

Benny watched her nimble feet on the far bank. Her steps were quick and light. His own feet felt heavy, and the stones gave a little wiggle whenever he tested them.

He paused beside the stream. Water murmured around his toes. Benny wanted the clover very much, but he wanted to find a way that felt right for him, too.

Benny leaned forward again, then stopped. Dot’s quick little steps had worked for Dot. But Benny was bigger, and his feet needed more room.

“I don’t have to copy your steps,” he called. “I can look for my own.”

Dot nodded. “I’ll wait right here.”

Benny lowered his trunk to the water. He gently touched a stone near the bank. It rocked when he nudged it. He moved his trunk to the next one. That stone rolled a little, too.

“Not those,” Benny murmured.

Farther along, a broad, flat stone rested in the shallow stream. Benny reached for it with his trunk and gave it a careful push. It didn’t budge. He pressed down on its middle. Still steady.

Benny placed one front foot on the stone. It held firm. He shifted his weight slowly. The water curled around the stone, but Benny stayed balanced.

“Good stone,” he said.

He looked for another broad stone nearby. This one had a dry patch on top. Benny tested it with his trunk. It stayed still. Then he tested a third stone, close enough for one careful step.

The route was not a straight line like Dot’s. It curved gently through the stream. Benny followed it with his eyes, checking each stone before he stepped.

“Ready?” Dot called.

“Ready to try,” Benny answered.

He set one foot on the first broad stone. Then he brought the next foot beside it. The stone held. He stretched his trunk toward the next one and gave it a firm little tap.

Steady.

Benny moved one foot forward. His big body wobbled a bit, and his ears flapped. He stopped until the wobble was gone.

Then he tested the next stone. It was wide and firm. Benny stepped onto it, one foot at a time. The water made a soft shushing sound below him.

At the last stone, Benny reached the far bank. He set both front feet on the grass, then brought his back feet up after them.

“I did it!” he said, standing tall beside Dot.

“You found a good way,” Dot said.

Benny looked back at the stones he had checked himself. His feet felt steady, and the sweet clover was only a few steps away.

Benny and Dot walked together to the patch of clover. The leaves brushed Benny’s ankles, and their sweet smell filled his trunk.

“Which one should we try first?” Dot asked.

Benny bent his head and picked a tender leaf. Dot chose one nearby. They chewed slowly, tasting the fresh, grassy sweetness.

“Mmm,” said Benny. “Crossing the stream made this taste even better.”

Dot giggled. “Your careful steps were just right for you.”

Benny glanced back toward the water. From the bank, the stones looked smooth and small. But he remembered how he had tested each broad one with his trunk, and how each careful step had brought him closer.

“I liked finding the steady stones,” he said. “I could take my time and see what worked.”

Dot sat beside him in the clover. “And I liked cheering you on.”

They shared the leaves, taking turns to nibble from the patch. Benny picked a few for Dot, and Dot nudged a fresh clump toward him with her trunk. The stream whispered nearby, slipping around the stones Benny had crossed.

A breeze stirred the meadow grass. It tickled Benny’s shaggy sides, and he gave a happy little shiver.

“Is your belly full?” Dot asked.

“Almost,” Benny said. He took one last bite of clover and chewed with a thoughtful smile. “Now it is.”

They settled in the grass beside the stream, where the bank was soft and the clover leaves made a cool cushion. Benny tucked his legs beneath him. Dot curled close enough that their shoulders touched.

The water kept up its quiet song. A few tiny ripples traveled past the stones, and a leaf floated along, turning slowly as it went.

Benny rested his trunk on the grass. He felt warm, full, and pleased with his careful crossing. Dot’s tail gave one last sleepy swish.

Together they listened to the stream and let the meadow grow quiet around them, resting side by side with the sweet taste of clover still on their tongues.