Berry Soup

Deep in the forest, there was a family of three hungry bears. They lived beneath a great tree just beside the river, and they loved to eat honey and fish and berries. One day, the Mama Bear and Baby Bear heard something very strange as they were searching for berries. 

“Really?” Mr. Robin said from his branch.

Mrs. Robin bobbed her head beside him. “Soup, she called it. It smelled lovely. Even better than worms.”

“You’re off your twig,” Mr. Robin grumbled. “Nothing beats worms.”

Moma Bear and Baby Bear had never heard of soup before, and they hurried back to tell Papa Bear of this strange food. 

“Let’s go see where it grows,” He said.

They set off through the forest, searching high and low. They searched high in an apple tree. They flipped over river stones. They smelled old wormy logs that made Mr. Robin dance. But they could not find soup anywhere. 

They had nearly given up when they heard two deer talking. 

“I heard from Tom the cat, who had it from a mouse, who heard it from those robins, that nobody has found soup anywhere in the forest,” grumbled the old buck, Niner. “The people didn’t find soup. They made it from little bits of other food.”

“Oh dear,” Mrs. Deer said. “All that trouble when there’s grass and acorns about? You’re not thinking of making it?”

“I don’t have the hooves for it,” Niner said.

As the deer walked off, Papa Bear danced on his big furry feet. “We’ve been looking for soup like it grows on trees, but we need to learn how to make soup!”

“We know who can teach us,” Mama Bear said.

“Old Owl!” Baby Bear said.

They hurried off toward Big Hill, which had the tallest, oldest tree in all the forest. Old Owl lived in a hollow of the tree, where he could peer out and look over all the forest. When he looked out now, he saw the three bears, but he also saw many other animals approaching.

There were eagles, rabbits, and turkeys, squirrels, foxes, and even a few caterpillars inching along. And there came Niner and Mrs. Deer coming up the hill. And still others flew, scurried, galloped, slithered, and buzzed to the great tree. In fact, it seemed that every animal in the forest was crowded on the hill, all murmuring the same strange word. 

“Who is this ‘soup’?” Old Owl called.

“Bad business,” buzzed the bees, before other voices buried theirs.

“It’s squirrely!”

“Hogwash!”

“Something smells fishy.”

“Not me!”

“It’s only grub,” bellowed the caterpillar.

This at last seemed to calm the chaos, as everyone seemed to understand that soup was food.

“Soup must be some kind of bird,” the wolves said.

A turkey clucked. “It’s undoubtedly some little bug.”

“Are you a bird brain?” asked a grasshopper.

That ruffled the turkey’s feathers, but before an argument broke out, Mr. and Mrs. Robin returned in a flurry. 

“We’ve just been watching the people make soup. We’ve learned the secret.” Mrs. Robin called, and the hill went silent. She turned to Mr. Robin. “Do tell everyone.”

“It’s quite simple,” Mr. Robin said. “We mix everything in a pot, and it becomes soup. That’s really the gist, you see.” Suddenly, everyone became very excited. It all seemed so easy. Everyone wanted to try this new food.

“And what shall be mixed to make this soup?” Old Owl asked, quieting the crowd. “And where can this soup be mixed, who shall do the mixing?”

There was a long silence. It seemed nobody except Old Owl had really wondered how to make the soup. It now seemed an impossible challenge. In all the excitement, Baby Bear had come to hope for something new besides berries and honey. Now, each of the animals seemed to sigh and resign themselves to eating their fish, or grass, or bugs, until Mr. Robin spoke up.

“The people first put something in the pot that made the mama cry. What would make them cry?”

“Chewed up leaves from their tree?” the beetles guessed.

“Rounder,” Mr. Robin said.

“Spoiled pumpkin?” Niner asked.

“Smaller,”

“A wormed-up apple?” wondered a worm.

“That’s it!” Mr. Robin said, and the birds off to find some of the people’s apples. “Next was…” Mr. Robin thought hard. “Why, next came something very orange.”

“Carrots!” The bunnies cried.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Niner said. “It was string pumpkin.”

“Yes!” Mr. Robin said eagerly, and Niner and Mrs. Deer went in search of a pumpkin. “Then came a whole bunch of something small and red, which made the sauce.”

“Berries!” Baby Bear called. There was a roar of agreement, and the bears hurried off to find armfulls of bright red berries. When they returned to Big Hill, the birds had brought a dozen ugly apples, and the deer had found several big, plump pumpkins. Even better, a swarm of squirrels were shelling nuts beneath the big tree. Last, but not least, came a thousand bees carrying a large comb of honey.

“Very well,” Old Owl said. “We have ingredients. Now, where can this soup be made?”

There was silence again. Old Owl’s head swiveled, taking in the crowd. “Does anyone have a place to make this soup?” As the silence stretched, Baby Bear began to worry once again that the dream was lost. Then, a great hoot of laughter came from high in the tree, and they saw Old Owl looking down into the hollow of his tree. “I forgot to look under my own feet! This bowl is perfect for holding soup! Let’s bring the ingredients up!”

A flurry of birds and squirrels and bees carried up the ingredients and poured them into the hollow of the tree.

“Now, who can make this soup for us? Could someone climb up and stir the soup?

Everyone hurried toward the tree, but then they stopped. All the animals that could climb were not strong enough to stir the soup. All the animals that could stir were too big to climb. There was a groan as everyone realized this, and they backed away. But not Baby Bear. She was the only one standing by the tree. She was small enough to climb and strong enough to stir! She hopped and twirled and began climbed right up to Old Owl.

There was another cheer, and a flock of cardinals came to her with a great stirring spoon. She dipped it into the honey and nuts and berries and apples and pumpkins, and she stirred. Before long, the tree was full of berry soup!

Then came the leaf bowls, more than Baby Bear could count! She spooned the soup into bowls, and the birds flew them down! Baby Bear spooned and spooned until everyone had a bowl of soup. There was just enough left in the tree for her to fill the last leaf for herself, and the birds carried it down so she could eat with Mama Bear and Papa Bear. It was the best soup she’d ever had. All around Big Hill there was sipping and slurping and sighing. 

The berry soup was deemed a great success, and plans were made for another dinner tomorrow night. And the night after that. There was chatter about new ingredients to try, bigger bowls for the deer, and many other things that Baby Bear did not hear. All the climbing and stirring had made her quite tired indeed, and after sipping and slurping and sighing, she slept.

The End.