A Woodland Tale: Concerning How National Parks Came to Be

Chapter 1: The King’s Mountain

Many ages ago, the creatures of the Realms lived according to the rules laid out in the Ancient Manuscripts. We now know these Realms as national parks, but our tale takes place before that purpose arose. The creatures had to listen to the masters of their Realms and only acted according to their commands or the rules of the Manuscripts. The adventure that this tale recounts, though, would change that forever …

Did you know that some berries only grow at certain elevations? That is true of the huckleberry, which is the peculiar berry I spoke of earlier. They mostly grow at majestic heights, between 3,500 feet and 7,200 feet. Atop tall mountains and amidst gusting winds, they grow. There are many different species within the huckleberry family, but in this story, we are focusing only on two. The first is the wild mountain huckleberry, Vaccinium membranaceum. This species is a vibrant, alluring purple, clearly visible among the green leaves from which it hangs. It is from this species of huckleberry that the great king comes, through whom all national parks were created.

The second species is the North American red huckleberry, Vaccinium parvifolium, which accounts for most of the king’s subjects. Since we will be hearing about the huckleberries quite a lot, we will simply refer to them as “the Huckles,” so that talk of them does not become wearisome. We should not tire when speaking of them, because they have done some of the most wondrous things.

Huckleberries mostly grow west of the incredible Rocky Mountains, in dense forests and mysterious green woodlands. Despite the berry itself being rather small (just under half an inch in diameter), the plant upon which it grows can reach a height of about four meters. This is very useful, because lookout Huckles need a good vantage point from which to survey the woodlands in and around Glacier.

The huckle plant is a deciduous shrub with yellow, white, and pink flowers. According to the Elders (who will appear later in our tale), the flowers and striking color of the Huckles is what led to their persecution in days gone by. They have been eaten and stomped on by bears, stolen by birds, brewed into tea, and generally bossed about by all manner of woodland creatures. Forest folk say that in the Elders’ Manuscripts, there are ancient pages concerning the history of the Huckle clan and how they came to be. Supposedly, growing tired of being eaten, brewed, and stamped upon, they grew to incredible sizes to defend themselves, vowing never to let themselves be bullied again. The truth of such things we may never know. What we do know for certain, from both the Manuscripts and just about every creature in the national parks today, is that everything about the Huckles started in one place.

That place can be found on a map, but you will need several maps. In fact, it will be helpful for you to have some maps beside you for the entirety of this tale, because they will help you learn the land. First, you need a giant map of the United States. Now, bear in mind that the Huckle clan existed long before the country as we know it came to be, but it is in this vast place that they resided. Now, on this map, you will need to look northward, near the border with another giant land, Canada (actually another place where huckleberries grow). There you should see eleven different states that touch the border. You then need to travel westward along that border and you should find, in the far west, a state called Washington (some Huckles there). Directly east of Washington, you should see a small sliver of land that expands further south. This is the state of Idaho (a few Huckles there, although they have been overshadowed by a mysterious clan called the Potatomen). Notice that Idaho is sandwiched in between two big states, with Washington to the west and another to the east. The state to the east is where our tale begins. It is named Montana.

Nowadays, not many people speak of or even visit Montana. That is surprising, as it is a place of splendid beauty. If folk had any idea that this was where the king’s Realm was during the reign of the Huckles, perhaps they would pay it a bit more respect. It is a land of lakes, streams, mountains, and nights crowded with stars. It is known, according to current folk, as the “Big Sky Country.”

It might be helpful for you to possess a map of Montana, but you only need to take a quick glance, because we will mainly dwell in one part of it. That part, today, is called Glacier National Park, and it is the king’s greatest legacy. If you do indeed have a map of Montana, you should look northwest. Near a city called Kalispell, you should seek a large patch of green, which will probably read “Glacier NP.” Now much like we will call the Huckleberries “the Huckles,” we will henceforth call Glacier National Park “Glacier.”

This is where our tale truly begins. This is where the Huckles once lived. For this place, you will most certainly need a map. If you have ever been blessed enough to visit Glacier as it is today, you should have been given one, but if not, be sure to obtain one somehow. Looking at the map, you should notice that this park has a large number of lakes. This is partly because glaciers, titanic blocks of ice, melt and feed the lakes below, forming beautiful silver streams on the mountainside.

In the winter, Glacier is a wonderland. Deep blankets of snow and frozen lakes emit crystals of light, and the gleaming lake surfaces are flanked by trees in every direction, tall and evergreen. In the summer, much of this snow and ice melts, and the glory underneath is unveiled. Crystal clear waters ripple in the sunlight, peeling back in the bright morning to reveal shimmering stones beneath. Anyhow, enough about lakes, because remember, Montana is a land of lakes, streams, and mountains, and it is a mountain that we must now find.

On your map, find Lake McDonald. It should be easy enough to find, because it is the largest of all the lakes in the park. Once you have found it, cast your gaze west, then look around carefully and you should notice some campgrounds. These campgrounds are not part of our tale, because they are modern creations and were not relevant in the Elders’ age; we are just using them for reference (in fact, some of the forest folk nowadays often complain about how loud they are). You should see a campground called Fish Creek on the northern bank of the lake. Near Fish Creek, you should see the actual creek, which runs north. Follow this creek with your finger toward Canada, passing two tributaries, and eventually you should find McGae Creek. Follow this all the way westward (toward Idaho and the Potatomen), and there you should see it—the great mountain.

It sits in the westernmost part of the park and is the only mountain in the area. You notice it. It may have a little triangle to show where it is. I sincerely hope you have found it. It is called Huckleberry Mountain, and it is the home of the king. Now, in the time of our tale, the mountain was menacingly tall, and it shone a dark shade of emerald green, but a purple mist clouded its summit at all times. Long after our tale, the king lay to slumber once and for all near the bottom, and supposedly the mountain shrunk to the smaller size it is today.

Now, this mountain is of the highest importance, not just for the Huckles but for you and me. It was atop this very mountain that the Elders of the Realms—who are Elderberries, the Ancient Pines, and the legendary bird (we will meet them all later)—forged the settlement of the national parks. It was on this mountain that the national parks began. The leaders of the United States nowadays look after the parks through the Department of the Interior, but that was not where it all began. Huckleberry Mountain was where it all began.

Now, we have to understand that in nature, great things often arise through fierce struggle. Much like the Huckles struggled to overcome persistent bullying and malfeasance, they also struggled greatly to gather the Elders of the Ancient Realms and alter the Manuscripts forever. This tale will tell of their struggle and just how the wondrous parks came to be. You’ll need to keep your maps handy, and you may need some new ones for the duration of the tale.

In fact, there is one you will most certainly need, which you may as well source immediately. You will need a map of California …

Chapter 2: Procession of the Huckle Knights

“Arise!”

A Huckle Knight bellowed into the bright spring morning. The day was clear, blessed with sweet sunlight and a gentle breeze. It foretold a warm and enchanting summer beyond. “Alert!” he continued. All creatures present knew what to do. In one synchronized sweep, the Huckles and the guest creatures swiveled sharply inward toward one another, like a crowd greeting a bridal party. The two sides were organized so that a pathway between them led to the stage on which the knight stood.

The green meadow at the foot of the mountain was a perfect location for the ceremony; it was flat, spacious, and close enough to the mountain. Although some of the guests made ambient noise, such as the buzzing honeybees and the thumping of a hare’s feet (which cannot be helped, apparently), there was a still, solemn silence in the air. It was as if all of Glacier had decided to set this day aside out of respect for the ceremony. Even the creek, gently bathing in the spring breeze, dared not lap its waters onto the banks closest to the meadow. Instead, it rippled gently, almost still, as if silently contemplating. It was a scene of blessed tranquility.

The knight spoke once more. “We are here today to observe the knighthood of eight of our finest soldiers.” He spoke with such authority that even the bears in the audience were sitting erect (they had a turbulent history with the Huckles), but the Huckle fixed his gaze not on the bears, nor on any other in the audience. Instead, his gaze was transfixed straight ahead, past the crowd and into the heart of the forest.

The knight’s name was Rubus. Rubus was a Huckle larger than most. He stood four feet tall, around a foot higher than the average. Like the rest of his kin, his torso was ovular and his head was completely circular (much like a berry). Due to their being berries, the Huckles had no shoulders or necks. It is a miracle, of course, that they even had limbs or could speak or could think, but they could.

Most Huckles were rose red, but due to his seniority, Rubus was closer to burgundy, almost halfway between red and purple. This was because the higher the Huckles rose in rank, the more like the king they appeared. On their torso they had four miraculous but basic limbs; two arms and two legs. These limbs measured about a foot and a half each and appeared as entangled groupings of sticks and branches wrapped in twine. The limbs were quite thick, somewhat thicker than the deciduous shrub branch on which the Huckles originally grew. They were also incredibly robust, and while they may have appeared in danger of snapping, they were actually efficient and useful for all of the Huckles’ tasks.

As mentioned earlier, Rubus was as close in color to purple as he was to red, and his clothing complemented his hue. He bore upon him the Royal Standard of the Huckle Knights; a golden loop belt (mostly superfluous and for display) and a charcoal-gray tunic (like that of a Roman emperor) were his principal garments. The clothing was gathered from all parts of the Glacier Realm. The belt was gathered from the miner moles of the north, and the tunic was fashioned from the strongest spider’s web. Although the Huckles did not rule unfairly or unjustly, all the creatures in the Realm served at their behest.

Tucked into a wooden carcass on Rubus’s right hip was a staff. This staff, and all Huckle staffs like it, were forged in Huckle Village alone. The master Huckle craftsman crafted them all, and if they did not come from him, they were not battle-ready, nor were they worthy. After he created them, they were left to harden in the heart of the mountain, and each one was blessed by the Elderberries. Wolverines, creatures of quite unbelievable strength and ferociousness, were beckoned forth from present-day Canada to test the strength of the staffs. The Huckles would have loved to have the mighty wolverines fight alongside them, but wolverines are much too stubborn and solitary.

The last item of Rubus’s outfit was a crown, again crafted from branch and twine. It was adorned with other, inanimate species of berry, like the blueberry, Cyanococuss, and the redcurrant, Ribes rubum. Aligning his crown, Rubus straightened himself (as much as berries can) and looked down at a sheet of gray parchment held firmly in his left hand. “These soldiers have given everything in service to Glacier!” Rubus offered little thanks to the crowd for their attendance; they had mostly attended out of reverence for the king anyway. He also spoke with little arrangement, as if the crowd already knew why they were there and knew exactly was going to happen. “Our soldiers will stand on this stage and be appointed by the king himself!”

As he mentioned the king, he gave an almighty thrust, like someone learning to play a heavy instrument for the first time, and afterward, he paused. In fact, the entire crowd was hushed, and a cloak of silence enveloped them all. A fluffle of bunnies were seen whispering in the rather large ears of their mother, and on the left-hand flank of the crowd, an extraordinarily old female turtle in the front row lifted her head from her half slumber. Whenever the king was mentioned in these lands, creatures great and small paid attention.

Rubus spoke once more. “Today we will witness and celebrate the promotion of these soldiers into knights as they seek to serve the king and our Realm! On the playing of the berryrumpet, the soldiers will march from the forest onto this stage and will then be knighted!”

Afterward, he looked to the opposite end of the stage, where a slightly smaller, far brighter, red berry was standing. She was around three feet tall and was dressed with little decoration, just a lighter tunic of smoky gray. “Goji, proceed!”

Goji lifted her berryrumpet (a Huckle’s trumpet) to her mouth and drew a deep breath. Her head puffed as her black dotted eyes squinted. The berries had no cheeks, so the taking of a breath required swelling of the entire head. Huckles’ mouths and eyes, by the way, were very basic; two simple black dots for eyes and a black line that looked like a lace of licorice for a mouth. This was true for Huckles but true for Goji as well, who was not a Huckle but still a wondrous berry. Brrrrrrrr! The berryrumpet played no melody, just a monotone singular blast, plenty loud enough for all the creatures to hear. Afterward, Goji pulled the berryrumpet away from her mouth, looking rather pleased with herself. At three, she was one of the youngest musicians in all of Glacier. Now three is late teenage years for a berry, as their years are far shorter than ours, although they can achieve just as much.

“Remain standing,” said Rubus bluntly to the crowd while briefly looking at his parchment for a reminder of the order of events. The crowd knew what to do. They turned toward the back of the meadow, where the forest beckoned. Out of an opening between two white pines, Pinus albicualis, and from behind some rocks, the soldiers they had been awaiting came forth. Rubus glared at Goji, who appeared shocked. She had forgotten the next stage of the procession and quickly fumbled to bring the berryrumpet to her mouth. Brrrrrr! She recovered her form and blew to announce the approach of the soldiers.

They marched starkly onward onto the stage without looking around. The soldiers were, as you may have guessed, of a somewhat hybrid appearance, between Goji and Rubus, but the main difference was in their clothing. The gallant soldiers wore navy-blue tunics and helmet crowns similar to Rubus’s, although slightly less elaborate. They stood around three and a half feet tall and were a deeper shade of red than Goji, more like a crimson but still very much red. The soldiers proceeded toward the stage along the path created by the crowd. There were eight of them, male and female, and they marched in pairs. As they marched, there were excited mutterings and whisperings from the spectators.

A small hare child, a leveret, whispered into his mother’s ears, “Momma, can I be a soldier one day?” The child was beaming with startled excitement, impatiently thumping his feet on the ground. The mother grunted something of a reply but didn’t really answer; she was more focused on the brave Huckles walking toward the stage. Of course, as the child would have already known, the answer was no. Only Huckles could be soldiers or knights. It was the Huckles, after all, that miraculously grew to an incredible size to defend themselves and the Realm.