Adventures Of Ranger Rick - short story

Ranger Rick, March, 1999 by Claire Miller

What will happen when Boomer meets another Boomer?

"We're here in Texas to see a chicken named Boomer? I still can't believe it!" Boomer Badger said. "That really cracks me up! What in the world is a chicken doing with my name?"

"Remember, he's an endangered prairie chicken," Punky Porcupine replied. She couldn't say more, because she started coughing.

Ranger Rick Raccoon and his friends were hiking along a road, and the air was getting smoky. They stopped at a road sign, and Elmo Armadillo read, "`Attwater Prairie Chicken National Wildlife Refuge, 1/2 mile.' Hey, what does Attwater mean?" he asked Rick--and started coughing too.

"It's the name of a very special kind of prairie chicken that lives only in Texas," Rick explained. "My friend Boomer is an Attwater's."

The friends continued to hike until Punky stopped and pointed down the road. "Whoa, look up ahead. It's a fire! See those flames shooting up?" she gasped.

Rick shook his head sadly. "We're finally here, but maybe we're too late. There are only about 60 Attwater's prairie chickens left in the wild--and their home is burning up!"

Just then the animals saw two chicken-like birds flying rapidly away from the fire. They soon landed near Rick and his friends. "Now what'll become of us?" the bird named Maria wailed to her friend Anita.

The gang ran up to the frightened birds, and the animals introduced themselves. Then Maria told their story:

"See, we grew up in a zoo in Houston, Texas. Then some nice people moved us to this wonderful refuge. It's like a great big park. And it's just the kind of place we prairie chickens like--lots of prairie grass where we can hide our nests and raise our chicks. But now what'll we do? Our refuge is burning up. Oh, I wish we had stayed at the zoo!"

Rick looked around and said, "You know, the fire seems to be in just one part of the refuge. I don't think you have to worry about losing your home. In fact, I think we can safely go in and look for Boomer."

Anita still looked worried, but she replied, "I guess we could help you find Boomer. We know him well--who doesn't? He's one handsome bird, right, Maria? I sure hope the fire doesn't spread, though."

Before long, the band of friends found Boomer Prairie Chicken. He was strutting around an area of short grass called the booming grounds. He came right over to them and said, "Rick, I'm glad the fire didn't scare you off. Welcome to you and your friends!"

Boomer Prairie Chicken was especially pleased and amused when he was introduced to Boomer Badger. "Just call me Boomer P. Chicken," he said, giving Boomer Badger a friendly pat with his wing. Boomer Badger scowled and said a quick hello. This prairie chicken was just too good-looking and too friendly for him.

When Boomer P. Chicken glanced at Maria and Anita, he was horrified. "What happened? You both look as if you're scared half to death!"

The two females pointed to the flames. "We saw the fire and figured we'd better escape while we still could. . . . But you don't seem worried, Boomer. Will it be OK?"

"No problem," Boomer P. Chicken replied. "Every spring, scientists set fires like this in parts of the refuge. Sometimes lightning starts fires too. Some of the grass, young trees, and other plants burn, and the fire turns them into powdery ashes full of minerals. The minerals help the grass roots send up new, healthy shoots. And by killing off the trees, the fire keeps this prairie just the way we like it! It's a good deal all around."

"Whew, I'm sure glad to hear that," Anita replied. "There are so few of us, I keep worrying we'll all get wiped out. I just hope . . ."

"Oh, don't start with your gloomy talk," Maria interrupted. "Let's take a walk around the refuge. We'll stay away from the fires."

"Count me out," Boomer P. Chicken replied. "I have to save my strength for tomorrow morning."

"What's happening then?" asked Elmo.

"Get up early and you'll see--and hear," Anita said. "Meet us right here on the booming grounds. You'll find out how we females pick the best males to be our mates."

"Well, count me out on the walk too--I have to save my strength for . . . whatever," Boomer Badger announced. He didn't know what would be happening at dawn, but if Boomer P. Chicken had to rest up for it, Boomer Badger figured he'd better get enough sleep too. I can't let a silly old chicken do anything better than me, no matter what it is, he thought. He walked over to a nearby clump of grass, plopped down, and started to snore.

After the walk, Rick and his friends headed back to where Boomer was sleeping. The smoke had cleared, and they all nestled into the prairie grass and fell asleep under the big, bright stars.

Ooo-looo-loo! Ooo-looo-loo! A weird, loud noise woke the gang at dawn. "Time to wake up, everyone! I'm off to the booming grounds," Boomer Badger announced. "Gotta see what that braggy bird is doing." He dashed away, while the rest of the gang got up.

Boomer P. Chicken was strutting around again in the middle of the booming grounds. But this time he was really going at it. He stopped and stretched his neck forward. Feathers on his head and tail stood up like fans. Soon his feet became a blur--he was stomping them so quickly. While he stomped, he blew up bright yellow sacs on both sides of his head until they looked like balloons. Then, as the sacs collapsed, he made the loud "booming" sound that Boomer Badger had heard earlier: Ooo-looo-loo!