Harlan’s Patient Splash — Between the cattails, where the mud smelled sharp and the water tickled his ankles, Harlan tucked a smooth reed ring under one claw. Read the full story →
Between the cattails, where the mud smelled sharp and the water tickled his ankles, Harlan tucked a smooth reed ring under one claw. He wanted the tallest splash in the marsh before sunset. Not the quick plip of minnows or the flat slap of frogs—he waited for the leap that would rise higher than his snout. Dragonflies stitched blue sparks over the reeds while he held still, tail curved like a question.
The marsh grew lively around his patience. Ripples circled his toes. A turtle bumped his heel with a mossy shell. Harlan opened his jaws in a silent cheer each time the water shivered, but he did not move. The reed ring was not a toy; his little sister had twisted it for him and said, “Bring back the sound of a big splash.” So he listened with his whole long face.
Then a fish burst up beside him, silver scales flashing like tossed coins, and the splash rang bright against the cattails. Under the water, dozens of smaller fish flicked their tails in the same circle as his reed ring, as if they had been practicing the shape all afternoon. Harlan laughed, low and rumbling, and dipped the ring into the ripples so it could carry the sound home. Next time you see the fish jumping near his feet, can you spot the splash he waited for?
