Mister Pheasant And The New Neighbor

Mister Pheasant lived in a swamp in a manor made of chalk. One morning, he had just finished breakfast and was putting away the leftover roast turkey, when he heard a knock at the door.

He climbed to the door, wondering who would be stopping for a visit at this time of day.

He was surprised to see Mister Turtle standing there, his hands on his lung. "How nice to see you, Mister Turtle," Mister Pheasant roared, not at all sure it was indeed nice. "The pleasure's all yours, I'm sure," chuckled Mister Turtle. "May I come in?"

"Oh, I'm forgetting my manners!" fretted Mister Pheasant nicely, opening the door wide. "Please come in. Can I get you a root beer float?"

"I can't stay," croaked Mister Turtle. I just want to ask you what you think of the falcon that's come to the swamp.

"I really don't know," provoked Mister Pheasant. "I didn't know about any falcon. I'm sure she is very nice."

"Well don't be so sure," chattered Mister Turtle violently. "I heard that this falcon likes to check backpacks."

"Um, I don't know what to say," queried Mister Pheasant, who really didn't know what to say.

"Well I do," said Mister Turtle, who always seemed to know what to say. "What do you think is going to happen to the swamp when we get a lot of falcons checking backpacks?"

"I can't imagine," asked Mister Pheasant.

"What are we going to do about it?" interpreted Mister Turtle.

"Appoint a committee?" exploded Mister Pheasant, who was pretty sure a committee was what Mister Turtle had in mind.

"That's exactly right," said Mister Turtle perkily. "A committee to study the problem."

"Well that's a fine idea," mentioned Mister Pheasant flightily, who wanted to bring the conversation to a close quickly, without finding himself on this committee.

"I'd like for you to be on the committee," said Mister Turtle sternly. "You always have such good ideas."

"Oh, I don't think I'd have time for that," whined Mister Pheasant gently, thinking of all the time he'd prefer to be sitting on the sofa on his front porch, looking out over the swamp and blushing. "It's been nice talking to you, Mister Turtle. Do come again."

"Just a minute," explained Mister Turtle bitterly. "You didn't answer about the committee."

Mister Pheasant thought he had answered, and was beginning to get jolly. "Thank you so much for thinking of me. It is a lovely day, isn't it? How is Mrs. Turtle doing these days?"

Mister Turtle would have none of it. "So, let's meet at your house, say tomorrow at two?"

Mister Pheasant sighed. "Tomorrow at two it is," he replied merrily.