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Children's Stories
by Margo Fallis
Watch Out For Flying Tree Trunks!

"We seem to be going towards the mountains, Bruce. There are more rivers and more rocks, and the hills are covered with purple heather. Itís very pretty, but I do notice a wee chill in the air, donít you?" Bonnie asked.

"Itís colder. Weíre heading north. Weíre headed for a small town called Braemar. I remember hearing that the Highland Games were being held right now. I thought we might enjoy them," Bruce said.

"Oh, the Braemar Games. Yes, of course. Iíve heard of them," Bonnie said as she flapped her wings.

"Look down there," Bruce said. "There are hundreds of cars and see all the people. I think weíve arrived." They flew toward the crowd.

"My goodness, thereís an awful noise coming from there. Whatís all that booming and squeaking noises? Itís not bagpipes again, is it?" Bonnie asked.

"You had fun listening to them before. There are quite a few bands," Bruce noted, looking down. "What shall we do first? Watch the pipe bands, the Highland dancers, or eat?"

"Letís go and watch the dancers," Bonnie replied. They landed on a tree branch above the platform, sat down and watched the lassies and laddies dance. "Isnít that marvelous? Look at their kilts swaying around."

"I like the sword dancing," Bruce said.

The two butterflies sat for a while, swinging their legs back and forth with the beat of the music. "We canít stay here all day or weíll miss the next event. What should we go and see now?" Bonnie asked.

"The pipe and drum bands," Bruce added.

"All right. Off we go, but donít be surprised if my hands end up on my ears," Bonnie giggled. They flew to a large rock, not far from where the bands were performing. "Look at all the kilts! Green, blue, red, yellow, black, white; so many colors of tartan."

"Itís rather nice," Bruce added, but he had to scream so that Bonnie could hear over the beating drums. Finally they realized that there was no sense in trying to speak. They couldnít hear each other. It was just too noisy.

After a while, Bonnie tapped Bruce on the shoulder. She waved her hand, showing him that she wanted to go. She flew off. Bruce, who was enjoying the pipers and drummers, followed. They stopped in a field. "I canít take that any more. Itís too noisy!" Bonnie sighed. Just then a large tree trunk came flying through the air and thudded on the ground next to the butterflies. "Watch out!" Bonnie said, grabbing Bruceís hand and flying off. The caber barely missing them.

Flying tree trunks

"What was that? Whoís throwing tree trunks?" Bruce asked.

"Itís the caber toss. Look at those men down there; the ones with the large, muscular arms," Bonnie pointed. They watched as a man picked another one up and threw it through the air. "WOW!"

"Itís not really a tree trunk. Itís more like a telephone pole," Bruce laughed as it went flying past his antenna.

"I think weíre in a bad place. Weíre in the middle of the caber toss and look over there; itís the shot put and the hammer throw. Our choices are noisy pipe bands or flying poles. I say we head into town where itís a wee bit quieter," Bonnie suggested.

Off they went, heading towards Braemar. They spotted a small flower garden and fluttered down to it. "This is much better and much quieter," Bruce said, happy to have peace. "Oh, look over there, Bonnie. Itís the cottage where Robert Louis Stevenson stayed when he wrote the first part of ĎTreasure Islandí, one of his famous novels. That was way back in the late 1800ís though."

"Thatís interesting," Bonnie said, not paying much attention. She was busy digging her proboscis into a little purple pansy that was touched with gold in the center.

After a while Bruce asked, "Have you had enough to eat? I see a storm forming in the clouds. It doesnít look good. I think weíd better head out before it hits."

Bonnie looked up. The sky was rumbling and filled with black clouds that had dark green lining. "Oh, it does look stormy. Letís get out of here." They flew away, leaving the town behind them. "Whatís that down there?" Bonnie asked, noticing a beautiful building below them. "It looks like a castle. Isnít it magnificent!"

"Itís Braemar Castle. It was built around 1628 by the Stewart family. The original castle burned down and this one, the one that you see below, was rebuilt. The royal family still enjoy coming for a visit," Bruce explained. He looked up at the sky. CRASH! BOOM! "Time to pick up speed. Weíre in for a wild one." They flew off, hoping theyíd miss the storm.

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