"Sniff. Sniff. Sniff. Sniff. I need a whiff," Finlay,
the Angus bull, chanted as he walked along, sniffing the ground. Finlay
loved to eat turnips, but they grew under the ground, so he had to sniff
All day long he walked around sniffing the ground and
Some of the other animals nearby thought Finlay looked
awfully silly. Ian, the ram, started laughing when Finlay walked by him.
Finlay didnít even see Ian. He was too busy sniffing. Ian laughed even
harder when he heard him chant, "Sniff. Sniff. Sniff. Sniff. I need a
whiff." He dropped his woolly body to the ground and rolled around
Athol, the pheasant, saw Finlay coming. Heíd been
flying around the heather-covered hills and had seen Finlay from a long
distance away. "What is that silly bull doing?" he said out loud to
himself as he pecked a few roly-poly bugs from under a dead tree stump
that he was standing next to. "It looks like heís sniffing the ground."
Athol started laughing. The closer Finlay got, the harder Athol laughed.
"Silly bull," he giggled.
When Athol heard Finlay chanting and sniffing, he
laughed even harder. His feathers bobbed up and down as he heard, "Sniff.
Sniff. Sniff. Sniff. I need a whiff." Finlay didnít even notice Athol, as
he was too busy sniffing for turnips.
Grear, the fox cub was playing with her brother, Davis.
They were wrestling about in the bushes when they heard Finlay chanting.
"Sniff. Sniff. Sniff. Sniff. I need a whiff." They stopped and sat up,
their little cub ears standing straight up in the air.
"What is Finlay doing?" Grear asked.
"It looks like heís sniffing the ground," Davis
replied. "But whatís he singing?" the curious cub wondered.
They ran up closer to Finlay and followed him from a
safe distance. "He is sniffing the ground. Why do you think heís doing
that?" Grear asked.
"I donít know," Davis answered, then pounced on his
sister, tugging at the nape of her neck. Losing interest in Finlay, the
two continued their wrestling and fighting games.
Finlay hadnít even noticed the two fox cubs. Heíd been
too busy sniffing for turnips. As he walked past Chalmers, the cat, he
began to sniff the faintest aroma of turnips. "Sniff. Sniff. Sniff. Sniff.
I need a whiff," he mumbled.
Chalmers stopped preening her fur and watched Finlay.
He started chuckling. It wasnít every day that you saw a huge black bull
walking by sniffing the ground. The more he watched, the more he laughed.
He laughed so hard that his whiskers stood straight up in the air and so
did his tail.
Finlay didnít even notice Chalmers. He was too busy
sniffing for the turnips. He began to get excited. He knew there were
turnips nearby. He could smell them. He began to run. His long legs
thudded the ground as he ran. His huge ears bounced up and down against
his head. Suddenly he stopped. He sniffed the ground over and over again.
"Turnips!" he cried out. He used his hooves to dig the ground up. He
tugged the green plant on top and pulled it with his mouth. Soon the roots
came free. Attached to them were several turnips. "Yes! Turnips!" he cried
Finlay dug all the turnips out and gobbled them down.
They were delicious. He was happy. It didnít matter that Ian, Athol, Grear
and Davis, or Chalmers had laughed at him. It didnít matter because he had
his turnips and they were delicious.