My name is Pixy. I am two years old. I live
in a rock den with my mother and father. Our den is near a river.
Every morning when I wake up I walk out of our den to smell the
fresh spring air. Then I go and look for something good to eat.
After I eat my breakfast I go and see my best friend foxy. We
either go to the forest or river to play. We play all day until
it's time for our evening meal. Then we run home very fast in time
to eat our meal. When I get home my food is ready for me on the
table, which is the middle part of our den. Before I go to eat my
mother tells me to wash my hands and face. Then I run to the
little ditch in our den and wash up. After washing up I go to the
table to start eating. But just before I start eating my mother
tells me that we have to say our prayers. We pray, then I start to
eat. After everyone is done eating we all wash up and get ready
for bed. My father goes to bed first, then my mother tucks me in
bed at the back of the room.
The next morning when I woke up and went
outside, my mother and father were already up. I ate my breakfast,
and when I was done my mother asked me if I wanted to go for a
walk in the woods. I said, yes, but could Foxy come along? Mother
said, yes, but only if it was okay with her parents. So I ran down
to her house and asked Foxy and her mother. Both of them said it
was okay, and Foxy and I ran back to my mother and father. We
walked far into the woods, and on our way we met many friends that
lived in the woods. There were five different families that we
saw. After we talked to them we said our good nights and left for
home. When we got to our den I asked my mother and father if I
could walk Foxy home. Both of them said yes, and when we got
half-way to Foxy's house we said our good nights and headed on our
different ways home. When I got home my mother told me to wash up
and get ready for bed.
The next morning when I woke up my mother
was already up. Then she told me that my father was killed by a
hunter. Boy was I shocked to hear that! After his death I hated
the people that killed my father. But life had to go on anyway,
and even though it was harder to live, my mother and I lived our
lives like it was before my father died. My father always remained
in our hearts though. Nothing could take my father away from my
heart, or even my mother's.
Marshall
Cultural Atlas
