Heron the Hedgehog, my spider friend Phil,
and his new girlfriend (weirdly, also named Jill).
If you remember, his last girlfriend, Jill,
died in an unfortunate boating accident.
Or … fortunate, if you ask Phil.
But let’s not get sidetracked —
Phil’s love of boating accidents
and same-name girlfriends
are stories for another brunch.
Now!
Our Annual Thanksgiving Potluck Brunch,
way up in the Lighthouse tree,
weeks earlier, all through the Hundred Acre Wood
we left invitations for everybody —
including Owl, Pooh, Eeyore, Kanga, Roo, and Piglet too.
But Tigger, He wouldn’t sit still —
Heron attached the invitation to his fur with a quill.
And before bouncing off to Brazil, he reminded all of us
that Tigger’s a one and only wonderful thing.
___
One by one, friends started arriving:
Bounding, crawling, flying.
A few hung out downstairs, trotting around the base of the tree.
Some drove in — Look at the cars if you don’t believe me.
Others scurried and slithered with excitement.
As the animals socialized,
Phil looked into Heron’s eyes,
“You know you’re a hedgehog, right!?”
Jill nudged Phil to be quiet.
“Yes, I get that a lot,” Heron said with a chuckle.
“Would you like to hear my origin story —
the one mom always told me?”
With a tipsy slouch, between swigs of Demerara rum,
Phil managed a reply, “Most definitely! I’d like to know how you’d become!”
All the helpers in the kitchen, busy a-stirring, paused as Heron started reminiscing …
“While I was still in my mama’s belly, dad died in the snowboarding accident of the century. Many small woodland families grieved. Herons brought food to the bereaved. Over time, Mom made a new friend. Henry was there throughout, and to honour their friendship, Heron was given to me at birth.”
“Aww, Heron! That’s sweet.” Jill wiped a tear from her cheek. Phil responded — never know to be shy. “Man! That story’s deep. It almost put me to sleep.” Jill shot Phil a look. Almost slapped him with the cookbook.
The helpers sniffled and blew. Then returned to working — peeling, chopping, sautéing, and stirring. Everyone’s hunger grew.
As if we were in the Bee Tree, the Lighthouse was buzzing with activity; on debates over what goes where and how much salt to put in there.
As Phil leisurely wrote the menu on the pantry door, the Party Animals started to play, Your Love is King by Sade.
As the Party Animals entertained, everyone put the finishing touches on brunch — placing wreaths on doors, plumping throw pillows, arranging flowers, and hanging herb bundles from the rafters.
Heron noticed the menu listed both dinner and brunch.
“Phil!” she began. “Brunch is brunch and dinner is dinner. We are having the sooner, not the later.”
“Yes, but latter should be allowed — as I was going to say, I think we should stay here all day. With this lighthouse view and the Party Animals supplying the groove, I’m ready to jump and jive. If you haven’t noticed, I’ve got eight dancing shoes.”
Heron smiled and nodded in agreement. Then she looked over at the Condor Watchdog Lee. “Yes! Yes! We have more than enough food, especially if we convince Lee that cooked elk is also tasty.”
This story started from a prompt. Heron the Hedgehog (thank you again, Sammi!)
Happy Thanksgiving Everyday. Yeah!
© 2025 Samantha Williams. All Rights Reserved.
