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Harriet's Hunt For The Sun
By Fran Mill
AuthorHouseCopyright © 2010 Fran Mill
All right reserved.
Chapter OneIn the cool and misty Highlands of Scotland lived Harriet, a young shaggy long-haired Highland Coo (cow). All day Harriet was in her pasture with nothing to do but munch on grass, bracken (ferns) and gorse (a thorny bush).
Although Harriet's long coat was shiny, reddish-brown, the clump of hair between her two turned-up, pointed horns was sun bleached to gold. It hung down over Harriet's soft-brown eyes and square cow's face and made it hard for her to see in front of her or up above. But she could see her two front feet very well. Harriet had short cow's legs and a thick box-shaped cow's body. The Highland Breed of cattle is smaller than other kinds of cows.
"Oh, morning Mum," Harriet sighed after bumping into her Mother.
Harriet was contented wandering around the thick-green pasture near her Mum and a few other cows. But she was always sooo curious.
"Why is the grass green?" she asked her Mum.
"The Sun helps make it green."
"Why are the rocks on the wall hot?"
"The Sun shines on them", answered her Mum.
"The Sun does a lot of things, but where is it? I can't see it," moaned Harriet.
"Oh Harriet, enough of these silly questions!" And her Mum walked away to visit with the other cows.
"Okay then, I'll find that Sun for myself," bellowed Harriet to any cow who'd listen.
"Meggie will help me find that hiding Sun ... if I can find her."
Meggie was the Scotsman-farmer's daughter and Harriet belonged to her. Every morning before school she came to the pasture and rubbed Harriet's furry, red head and talked to her.
So ... a stubborn Harriet leaned heavily on a crack in the corner of the stone wall until it broke apart. Harriet tumbled, horns first out into the field of bright yellow daisies and prickly purple thistles.
Whee, that was easy. Now where shall I start to find that hiding Sun? That's a lovely garden near the castle over there. Could the Sun be in that fancy garden?
Harriet ran as fast as her short legs would let her to the castle garden. On one side, behind the rose bushes, was a row of huge sunflowers.
That's a proper place for the Sun to sit, thought a delighted Harriet. She began to explore (or trample) the sunflowers, looking for the Sun. The castle's gardener was not delighted.
"Hey! You crazy coo, get out of there. You're crushing my plants!" shouted the gardener, and he chased Harriet with a hoe.
"I'm only looking for the Sun," moaned Harriet.
Harriet galloped away from the gardener toward the garden stone wall. There are a lot of stone walls in Scotland.
"Mum said the Sun made the stones hot. Maybe it's resting here." She dug with her short pointy horns and loosened some stones hoping to find the Sun.
"What's going on here? You must be mad tearing down my wall!" yelled the stone mason. "Drat! Scat, you lummox!" (Dumb animal)
Harriet bounded away from the angry, stone throwing man and the hoe-swinging gardener. Soon she came to a loch (lake).
Whew, I'm thirsty from running away from those two.
While Harriet was drinking the cool blue water, she was looking down. So she saw her reflection ... and in it, over her shoulder there was a round brilliant light, the Sun.
"There you are!" she mooed trudging deeper into the loch.
Ah oh, the reflection shattered and disappeared.
All at once a fisherman splashed up to her, hollering, "Be gone with you! You're scaring my fish." He stumbled after her in his Wellingtons (rubber boots) and swatted at her with his fishing pole.
"I must get help from Meggie," Harriet puffed. "She must be at school in the village."
Harriet out-ran the gardener, the stonemason, and the fisherman.
But, because she didn't see it, she got tangled in some poor housewife's washing that was flapping in the breezes on the clothesline outside a cottage.
"Get away from my clean quilts, you silly coo!" cried the housewife.
"I'm looking for the Sun!" bellowed Harriet. Maybe it's there on the windowsill helping the bread dough rise, she thought.
Nope, it wasn't.
The housewife screamed, swinging her broom, "Don't mess in my bread, you nincompoop coo!" And Harriet was on the run again.
Excerpted from Harriet's Hunt For The Sun by Fran Mill Copyright © 2010 by Fran Mill. Excerpted by permission of AuthorHouse. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
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