Settle yourself down, and I’ll tell you a story as old as the hills, just as my ma’ told it to me long ago. This is a story of wisdom and foolishness, both in equal measure, and lest you be thinking you can tell which is which, listen to this as closely as you may, for you might just need to be learning the difference!

My ma’ would say that foolishness was thick as bogweed, and while the swampfolk knew their fair share and plenty, one creature who lived by the bayou knew perhaps a bit more than their share, and his name was Twice-Gnawed Jory. He was called as such ‘cause he never could quite recall what it was that he’d been up to, and more was the time when he went back and absentmindedly chewed the same trunk twice, or even thrice! And not just absentminded; he was quick to believe the gossip on the evening air, or to question old swamp wisdom and go poking his nose about where it shouldn’t be poked, without much of a thought toward how it might go for him. Oh, he was a foolish creature, and more was the time when he ought to have been lost in the marshgrass, were it not for the attentions of the village elder, a great and grizzled snapping turtle, who all the swamp knew as Elder Snap.

Now, Elder Snap was wise with many years, and took it upon his great shell to safe-guard and protect the marshfolk close by to his burrow, and to be there with sage advice whenever they might be feeling at a loss. Many and most listened to the wisdom of Elder Snap, for who were they to question the lessons he had learned over his many seasons of living? This wasn’t the case with Twice-Gnawed Jory, though! That muskrat would pop up at odds-ends and the most confounding times, always causing a hullaballoo, always making a mess of himself. Elder Snap would sigh, and while he put forth a mighty effort to teach the younger muskrat, he soon enough learned that there was but one thing, and one thing alone, that Jory would listen to. Omens from the spirit world, signs from beyond the Mysts, seemed to be the only thing to cause him to heed and take notice. His exasperation having long since given out, Elder Snap had taken upon himself to make up signs and omens; rustling a branch here or stirring up a ripple in the waters there, to coax Jory onto the right direction.

And so it was that the morning that Jory wandered himself off into the Whispering Waters, that place where the mists hung low and it was beyond a doubt that you’d get lost, and when the villagers came clambering to his door, that Elder Snap sighed a heaving sort of sigh, and set out in his shallow, round little boat to follow. As the boughs closed overhead and the mists beaded on his shell, Elder Snap poled onward steadfast as a stone until he heard ahead of him the splash and murmurings of his muskrat charge. Drawing into the reeds besides the river, the elder turtle moved forward quietly, so’s to remain hidden. When at last he spotted Jory, he merely shook his head at the happy humming of the muskrat dabbing their toes merrily in the water. He carefully judged that the wind was blowing back towards the village, and so taking a cattail from the marsh, Elder Snap gave it a quick twist and flung it into the dangling boughs above Jory’s boat. Leaves and cottony fluff scattered like sunshine down over him, and Jory sat up with a start, his face a look of awestruck so innocent that it couldn’t help but pull a smile from Elder Snap.

“Oooh, a spirit has arrived, oh dear me dear, what is it saying?” burbled Jory happily, clapping his front paws together. As the wind bore the the cotton fluff down on his head, it gently wafted back towards the village, and Jory’s head swiveled to follow. Elder Snap held his breath. “Oh dear oh dear, what say you spirits? Why, it seems,” and Jory’s head turned back to gaze in the direction the fluff seemed to originate from, “you beckon me onwards! Oh dear yes, oh dear me, I am coming, spirits!” And with that Jory took up his oar and paddled deeper into the Whispering Waters, swiftly departing from sight in the mists in the opposite direction as the one Elder Snap had intended.

The echoing silence was broken only by the quiet slap of water against Elder Snap’s small boat. The old turtle merely stared into the mists for a moment, as if counting the last few cattail seeds drifting down, before resolutely picking up his pole and following in the wake of Jory. The reeds gave way steadily to great soaring cypress trunks and long, long drifting trails of moss that dangled down to touch the slow-churning water. The mist hung thick, and Snap nearly despaired of finding his charge again until he heard whistling from the grove ahead. Edging his boat up to one of the towering trunks, he stretched out his neck around the curve of the tree to spot Jory spinning his boat in delighted little circles while saying, “oh dear oh dear, spirits? Spirits which way now, oh dear, which way?” to the trees all about him.
Stretching out a bit further, Elder Snap spotted a small sapling that had taken root on a cypress knee. Judging the young tree’ direction towards the village, he slipped into the water with barely a ripple, surging forward below the surface. Coming up below the knee and still hidden from young Jory’s sight, Elder Snap once more stretched out his long, long neck, and snapped the tree straight through with one bite from his powerful jaws. With a final twist of his head the wood splintered, and the tree fell into the water with a splash to point the way home.

Jory’s head came up suddenly at the sound of the tree falling, and goggled at the sight as ripples spread out to be lost amongst the waterweed. His whiskers twitched mightly, and then his boat rocked with his sudden exuberance. “Oh dear yes, spirits I hear you spirits! Oh dear me, a place with less trees, yes! That way!” And Jory once again paddled off deeper into the swamp, in a direction where the trees seemed to thin.

Elder Snap also stared mightily at this, and at the strange and baffling way the muskrat had misinterpreted the “sign”. He had been so sure… but there was no time to dwell, his charge was getting away once again, and so down went his pole and forward went Elder Snap in pursuit. The trees before them did indeed begin to thin, and up between them sprouted great growths of fungi and mushroom. These gnarled and twisted and gave off great gouts of steam, and all about them bubbles rose from the depths as if the marsh itself was breathing. The burbling, squelching sounds were loud enough that Elder Snap was able to creep close to Jory indeed, and when the muskrat meandered their way into a space of open water, the old turtle swung himself just out of sight behind a looming mushroom growth that spread red and wrinkled tendrils across the surface of the swamp.

Jory hopped up and down in his boat, sending it dangerously close to tipping the muskrat into the water. “Oh dear me, dear spirits, tell me more, tell me tell me the way to go!” he chortled to the mists and the steaming fungus. He wriggled and waggled his tail back and forth, and danced about in glee. Elder Snap took hold of his patience and looked thoughtfully at the bubbling water all around, trying to come up with a plan. Once again slipping over the side of his boat, he dove down below the other boat all the way to the riverbed. The Elder allowed himself a small grin at finding exactly what he sought; a thick cluster of underwater fungus, letting out gouts of bubbles into the swamp muck. Elder Snap swam up and down a bit, judging the distance and direction. Once he was sure, he swam down and burrowed below a stalk of the fungus. Heaving upwards with his shell he pushed with all his might, until the stalk snapped with a huge rush of steam that billowed out almost directly below Jory’s boat! With a surge of his tail, Elder Snap followed the sudden stream of bubbles upwards, watching as they erupted under one side of the boat, pushing it in the elder’s chosen direction. He rose stealthily up to the surface, only one eye and one ear breaking the water to listen to the results of his plan.

“Oh deeeaaarrrr!” wailed Jory, hanging on with both paws as his boat rocked suddenly to one side. He lost his grip, and went tumbling sideways into the water. “Oh dear!” he said again, bobbing up to the surface. “Oh my dear spirits, I see! I understand you now! Oh my dear yes, you ask me to dive down here, right in this very spot, to find what you are guiding me to look for!”

“WHAT?” cried Elder Snap; there was nothing for it, as Jory would have seen him as soon as the muskrat dived below. His great shell rose from the water stiff with frustration that he had not yet allowed himself to show. “No, young Jory, no! We must go home, and I have been trying to tell you as much, in the only way you will listen, with signs and movements of the “spirits”, but this is too far!” Jory, startled straight back into a island of fungus growth, made a small eep noise at the Elder’s sudden appearance and the loudness of his voice. Elder Snap’s fierce expression softened somewhat, now that Jory seemed to be listening. “All will be well though, for I am here to lead us back…” And Elder Snap paused, for he had had a sudden and sinking realization. Turning this way and that, he hemmed deep in his throat like the rumble of far-off thunder. “That is to say, we’ll just head back… oh Mysts and sea, look here, young Jory! Now we are hopelessly lost! It will take me until dark merely to get my bearings!”

Fuming, Elder Snap immediately set about looking for moss-sign and other ways to begin to determine their direction. It was several long moments of him paddling here and there about the fungus patch, before Jory piped up in a small, slightly trembling voice.

“Oh dear oh dear me, um, Elder, but, um, it’s not hard to get ourselves home. We only have to ask, oh dear yes.” Jory wrung his front paws together slightly as Elder Snap’s large shell turned towards him, and the turtle cleared his throat incredulously.

“Young Jory, come now, you cannot expect me to simply ask the swamp nicely, “please lead us home,” and think it will… will…”

Whatever it was that Elder Snap had been about to say will never be known, for at his words the wind picked up suddenly, rustling and whispering through the branches above them. The sounds of the breeze grew and grew, until Elder Snap almost thought he could hear voices woven throughout it, and the mists seemed to swirl and stream out through the swamps in a snaking, curving pathway. His jaw fell nearly to the waterline when Elder Snap realized that it wasn’t just an odd breeze, but a trail for them to follow. The wind and mists were leading them home.

Jory merely shrugged slightly and smiled a shy little smile. “Oh dear, dear me, um, I figured you knew why it was called the Whispering Waters, Elder. You can just go ahead and ask it, dear me, and it’ll lead you right home?”

And as Elder Snap stared, mouth agape, he felt a sudden laughter bubbling up within him like the steam rising off the marsh all about them. He laughed from his belly, and it rolled through the humid air and bounced off the cypress trees until he nearly fell over. Shaking his head, he drew Jory to him. “Young Jory,” he chuckled as he finally caught his breath, “thank you for showing this old fool what it really means to be wise. Let’s get ourselves home.”

And so they went, the Elder meditating on his own foolishness, and the insight of the muskrat beside him, who despite it all had known that they were safe enough with the spirits looking out for them.

Such was the way of it!