Bixby’s Carrot Moon Game — Every evening after the field bell clonked, Bixby braided straw rings beside the fence and tried to toss them over beet tops. Read the full story →
Every evening after the field bell clonked, Bixby braided straw rings beside the fence and tried to toss them over beet tops. He wanted a game all his own, one made with his hooves, his teeth, and the sweet, dusty smell of the vegetable rows. The radishes bounced. The turnips rolled away. “Stay put, you wobblers,” he murmured.
Until one day, he pulled up a carrot so enormous it came out with a pop like a cork. Because of that, Bixby set it against the fence and named his new game Carrot Moon: toss a straw ring, then mark where its shadow landed on the rail. Because of that, the birds began chirping scores, the butterflies drifted like tiny flags, and Bixby carved little notches in the wood with proud, careful teeth.
At sunset, the carrot’s shadow touched his farthest mark. Bixby rang his collar bell once, soft and bright. Next time you see his grin by the fence, see if you can find the carrot moon that began with the field bell’s clonk.
