This is Ria, welcome to Little Stories for Tiny People.
Our story today is going to be fun, a little ridiculous, slightly mysterious, and most of all it's going to make total sense.
In fact, I'm pretty sure I'll be receiving at least three emails from the spiders who live in the uppermost corners of my studio, praising me for the unshakable internal logic of this story.
Let's hear it. It's called Little Hedgehog Travels to Camp.
Take it away, Evelyn.
Remember, there are no pictures.
You have to imagine the pictures in your mind.
You can imagine them however you want.
OK, here we go. All aboard.
We are now boarding train 3 .14159, headed to Mid Forest Station with connecting buses to Lake Sweetwater, Warmish Pond, and Camp Wriggle Tots.
Little Hedgehog and Beebe, her best friend of all time, stood on the platform at the West Forest train station with roller bags in tow as a jolly looking, uniformed wood chuck stood nearby, encouraging everyone to board.
Dad, did you hear that?
We are now boarding.
That's my jolly looking wood chuck voice, Dad.
Well, Mr. Hedgehog said, I guess this is it.
Mr. Hedgehog, are you still mildly concerned about the idea of us traveling by train to summer camp as unaccompanied minors?
Don't forget the bus you have to take.
We could never forget the bus, Dad.
Mr. Hedgehog, we developed an original song so that we could not possibly forget the bus even if we tried.
In the middle of the bustling train platform, the two girls broke into song.
Heading to Camp Wriggle Tots, just my friend and me.
At Mid Forest Station, we will switch from train to bus with Glee.
And our bus number is...
Our bus number is...
Our bus number is...
1 .618033. For some reason, this song did not leave Mr.
Hedgehog with a great deal of reassurance.
Mmkay. Mr. Hedgehog, my mom told me that in yesteryear, hedgehogs of all ages frequently ventured into the world alone, going so far as to hitchhike across forests on the backs of nomadic wild turkeys.
My mother believes we would all do well to grow up as adventuring hedgehogs, capable of facing life's unexpected challenges without trepidation.
Which is why she bid me farewell back at our burrow.
She does not wish for me to grow up coddled.
Mr. Hedgehog peered at Bebe for a long moment.
Your mom is succeeding with that, Bebe.
Oh, and Dad, Bebe and I have been practicing several defensive moves.
Defensive moves, Mr.
Hedgehog. Really. Allow us to demonstrate.
Little Hedgehog and Bebe exchanged several meaningful looks.
Then, shouted, Run!
Mr. Hedgehog watched in amused confusion as his daughter and her best friend began running in place with expressions of intense concentration.
Little Hedgehog even pretended to wipe sweat from her brow.
Dad, this is us running from a wolverine.
We are outrunning him, Mr.
Hedgehog. Mr. Hedgehog blinked, curl.
The two tiny hedgehogs dropped into curled positions on the train platform.
Dad, this is us hiding from a mongoose.
We are now protected from the wily mongoose, Mr.
Hedgehog. Mr. Hedgehog squinted, hiss, Little Hedgehog and Bebe leaped up, arched their backs, pulled out their claws in a supposedly threatening manner, and hissed.
Dad, we are hissing at a crocodile.
The crocodile is thinking twice, Mr.
Hedgehog. At length, they relaxed into their usual demeanors of cheerful positivity and measured reasonableness.
Mr. Hedgehog studied the two of them.
Finally, he said, just stick with the running.
Okay, Dad. As you wish, Mr.
Hedgehog, all aboard, final call for train 3 .14159, headed to Mid -4 Station with connecting buses to Lake Sweetwater, Warmish Pond, and Camp Perkletotts.
Dad, we have to board now.
The Jovial Groundhog Conductor wishes us to board, Mr.
Hedgehog. Oh, Bebe, I thought he was a woodchuck.
This train is leaving the station momentarily, so please make your way aboard.
Just make sure you get off at the right station.
Of course, Dad, and get on the right bus.
Of course, Dad. Mr.
Hedgehog, we are strongly incentivized to get on the correct bus.
We must arrive at Camp Perkletotts by dawn in order to get the best pick of cabins.
Little Hedgehog nodded.
Oh, here, I forgot.
I made you some paw -drawn maps of the train station and the bus station.
Mr. Hedgehog handed his daughter a roll of paper tied with a string.
She slipped it into her roller bag.
Thanks, Dad. The hedgehogs exchanged hugs, including a rather stilted one between Mr.
Hedgehog and Bebe. Then, the young ones boarded the train.
I'll send you a letter by Dragonfly Delivery every three days, Dad.
Little Hedgehog called from the window, once aboard.
And I will dispatch a letter to you every six and a half days, Mr.
Hedgehog. Little Hedgehog, you can send me something weekly.
Bebe, you do not need to mail me.
Send letters to your mom.
Okay, Dad. Understood, Mr.
Hedgehog. As the train chugged away, Mr.
Hedgehog waved, watching his tiny daughter get farther and farther away from him in the dark night.
He suppressed the urge to scamper after the train.
Before they were completely out of sight, he heard Little Hedgehog yell, Make sure you take care of little guy, Dad.
And our bus number is?
Our bus number is? Our bus number is?
1 .61 8 -0 Excuse me?
You there? Tiny prickle bear children?
Little Hedgehog and Bebe went silent and exchanged amused smiles.
They were huddled in their seats, midway through their train journey.
Outside the window, the stars shone brilliantly in the night sky.
Inside, the train was lit up by lanterns, casting a soft glow over the rows and rows of passengers.
Hello! Greetings. Hello.
Said a large guinea pig, seated across the aisle.
She had reading glasses perched on the edge of her nose and a thick book open in her lap.
I've had to reread this paragraph elucidating the concept of the Golden Ratio seven times due to your...
musical stylings. We are so sorry.
We will stop singing immediately.
Our deepest apologies.
Thank you. The guinea pig said, and buried her head in her book.
No longer able to sing, Little Hedgehog and Bebe settled for making up stories about the sights out their train window.
Oh, Bebe. Did you see that squirrel?
I did. You looked so surprised.
Perhaps you just realized he forgot to feed his Venus flytrap.
Oh, Bebe. Did you see those bats flutter across the moon?
Maybe they were trying to tell us something.
Like a bat signal. Exactly.
Before they knew it, the train rolled to a stop at Mid Forest Station.
Mid Forest Station.
Watch your footsteps, folks.
Little Hedgehog and Bebe scrambled out of their seats past the guinea pig.
Goodbye, tiny prickle bear children.
Bye. Farewell. And disembarked.
The train. Neither of them had ever been to Mid Forest Station.
One of the main rail stations in the forest, and it was quite a sight to behold.
There were animals of all sizes flitting this way and that, dragging suitcases, balancing bags on their shoulders.
And there were tunnels formed out of archways of trees, leading to different train platforms.
Announcements blared from speakers perched in branches.
Will Alonzo, Cube or Cupine, please report to Service Desk 2.
Will Alonzo, Cube or Cupine, please report to Service Desk 2.
It was all rather dizzying.
Bebe, where do we find the bus?
Let us consult your dad's notes.
Good idea. Little Hedgehog withdrew the paw -drawn maps from her roller bag.
Ah, it looks like the bus station is located due west of the train station.
Thankfully, at all times I carry the compass my Uncle Clarence gave me as a celebratory gift after I won first place in a spear -fishing competition as a toddler.
Okay. Bebe withdrew a weathered -looking compass from her prickles and quickly showed the way.
They ended up in another clearing, where a single bus sat on a patch of dusty land.
In its window was a sign that read, Bus Number 1 .618033.
That's it, Bebe! Indubitably, the two tiny hedgehogs climbed aboard.
The bus was empty, except for the driver, a goat who had fallen asleep in his seat, not used to working the night shift.
His walkie -talkie crackled to life, startling him awake.
Roscoe, come in, Roscoe.
Oh, go ahead, Bill.
Roscoe, we're switching you to another line.
There's been an incident with a Wolverine.
Change your sign to 8675309.
Roscoe, do you copy?
Oh, roger that, Bill.
8675309. That's correct.
Over and out. The bus driver eased himself up from his seat.
From his vantage point, all he saw were rows of empty seats.
He did not. Notice the two tiny hedgehogs at the back.
He reached out and removed the sign from the bus window, replacing it with another that read, Bus Number 8675309.
Unbeknownst to our dear hedgehogs, who sat at the back, enthusiastically discussing the fun to be had at Camp Prickletots, I read in the brochure that we will learn mineral identification.
They were on the wrong bus.
A handful of passengers boarded over the next few minutes.
Then the bus rumbled out of Mid Forest Station into the surrounding wilds.
Unlike the train, the bus was nearly empty.
It was a quiet ride, except for the loud coughs occasionally coming from an unseen passenger on the other end of the bus.
Just a single animal sat near enough little hedgehog and baby to make conversation.
It was an elder prairie dog sitting with her paws in her lap, looking straight ahead.
She did not have a book or a crossword puzzle or anything else to distract her.
Hello! Greetings. Little hedgehog and baby trailed from just across the aisle.
The prairie dog startled, as if she had been deep in thought, then gave a slight smile.
Hello. I was just thinking about Celery.
I love Celery. I enjoy Celery.
I do not enjoy Celery.
I was thinking of ways to avoid it.
Oh, okay. Interesting.
Are you traveling by yourselves?
The prairie dog asked, her brow furrowing slightly.
We are. It is our first such adventure.
You are intrepid. At your age, I left the burrow quarterly if that.
It was little hedgehogs and baby's turns to slightly furrow their brows.
Where are you headed now?
To a retreat. It's retreat for creatures such as myself who clam up when confronting surprising slash concerning situations.
Little hedgehog and baby blinked.
It worked beautifully for my friend Vidalia, who had the same problem.
I'm hoping that by the end of the week, when I come upon a situation that is both surprising and concerning, I no longer go mute with discomfort.
Oh, okay. So if you encounter something surprising, what do you do?
Surprising occurrences are not a problem for me.
It is only if the occurrence is both surprising and concerning.
Wow. That is very specific.
So of an adorable bunny rabbit wearing a sparkling vest and striped socks left out from behind a shrub?
I would smile with mild amusement.
The prairie dog said, nodding primly.
And if you had been watching a hawk from a distance and he swooped down at you in a concerning manner that you could have reasonably anticipated, I would simply dash beneath the cover of a phone without hesitation.
The prairie dog said, her eyes serious.
What if an adorable bunny wearing a sparkling vest and striped socks leapt out from a shrub but then tore off its costume to reveal that it was actually a hawk?
That would be the problem, wouldn't it?
Because that would both surprise and concern me.
Unfortunately, I would freeze, only able to blink my eyes for minutes, sometimes hours at a time.
Wow. Whoa. Someone coughed loudly from the other end of the bus.
The prairie dog's eyes went wide with alarm for a brief moment.
Then she relaxed. Outside, the sky was the color of ink.
Would you like to hear our bus number song?
It is the song that served as a mnemonic device to ensure we boarded the correct bus on our way to Camp Perkletots.
The prairie dog nearly smiled.
Sure, heading to Camp Perkletots.
Just my friend and me.
Admit Forest Station.
We'll switch from train to bus with Glee.
And our bus number is.
Our bus number is. Our bus number is.
1 .618033. Up until the last line of the song, the prairie dog had a look of slight amusement and even milder delight on her face as these charming prickly mammals sang about their very first adventure without supervision.
The prairie dog even moved her head minutely in time with the song.
But upon hearing the number 1 .618033, she seemed to freeze in place with a stricken look on her face.
Did you love it? Tell the truth.
We spent four hours and eighteen minutes writing it.
Little Hedgehog and Bebe giggled.
Then they saw that the prairie dog was not speaking or moving.
Her face had seemingly turned to stone.
Is everything okay?
The song likely needs work.
Bebe conceded. No answer.
The prairie dog simply stared ahead.
Her eyes blinking every so often.
The two hedgehogs were about to investigate further when they heard.
Last stop. Everybody out.
Yay! Yay. We must be a camp prickle toss, Bebe.
Indeed. It would have been the perfect time for Little Hedgehog and Bebe to learn that they had, in fact, boarded the wrong bus.
When the bus driver got up and said.
Uh, thanks for riding bus number 8675309.
Have a great night.
Unfortunately, just as the bus driver said this, the loud, unseen cough -er started up again.
So the announcement ended up sounding like this.
Uh, thanks for riding bus number 8675309.
Have a great night.
The two tiny hedgehogs scampered off the bus.
None the wiser. The prairie dog remained motionless in her seat, contemplating the surprising slash concerning situation involving the two small hedgehogs who had boarded the wrong bus.
Until the bus driver prodded her to get up and go.
Everybody out. Dawn was an hour away by the time Little Hedgehog and Bebe made it to what they strongly believed was camp prickle tots.
They were encouraged by the sight of dozens of hedgehogs all striding purposefully in the same direction.
That must be the way, Bebe.
I'm so glad we are going to be on time.
They were in an unfamiliar part of the forest, dense with trees and plants of all kinds.
The moon provided just enough light for them to follow the other hedgehogs.
As they scampered along, Little Hedgehog noticed something peculiar about the other hedgehogs on the trail.
Bebe. Yes, Little Hedgehog.
Do these hedgehogs look a little old to you?
Indeed, the other hedgehogs were not only much older than the typical camper at camp prickle tots.
They were also rather muscular.
Then they noticed there were no signs for camp prickle tots anywhere in sight.
I would have expected it to be well marked, Bebe agreed.
It is surprising there is no signage.
Perhaps the directors of camp prickle tots share my mother's belief that young hedgehogs should not be coddled.
Perhaps, Bebe. Our dear hedgehogs did not put together the fact that they were in the wrong place until they ended up in a clearing with hundreds of muscular hedgehogs seated on wooden benches in an amphitheater.
Welcome one and all to the annual Tough Trainers Conference.
Called an unseen announcer.
Put your paws together for the toughest trainer in the land.
You know him as the Rolling Wonder and the Prickly Blur.
Give it up for Johnny D.
Rollerton. Love this guy.
Tough trainer, toughest trainer, he's a toughest trainer.
Listen up! The next roll is less than a year away and we've gotta be ready!
These hedgehogs aren't going to train themselves now are they?
No sir! We've gotta innovate every single year!
We're finally ready to reveal our latest rolling strategy.
We're calling it the Turbo Swish.
Um, Bebe? Are you thinking what I'm thinking?
In truth, Bebe had been swept away in an immersive daydream.
She'd never imagined herself becoming a tough hedgehog trainer, but now, faced with Johnny D.
Rollerton and hundreds of enthusiastic, hardcore, tough trainers, she did consider it.
Bebe, apologies Little Hedgehog.
I was imagining myself someday becoming a tough trainer.
Oh, I can picture that.
But Bebe, now are you thinking what I'm thinking?
Little Hedgehog said, her eyes wide as she observed Johnny D.
Rollerton demonstrate his latest moves on stage.
That it is possible Bebe began.
We boarded the wrong bus!
The sun was threatening to rise any minute by the time Little Hedgehog and Bebe made it back to the clearing where bus number 8675309 had dropped them off.
It was empty, nary a bus in sight, a tumbleweed rolled across the clearing, looking both entirely out of place and vaguely like Johnny D.
Rollerton. Bebe, how will we ever get to Camp Prickletots?
Little Hedgehog asked, slightly less cheerful than usual.
Let us console your dad's notes.
Good idea! Little Hedgehog withdrew the papers from her roller bag.
Little Hedgehog. Yes.
I am noticing that on your dad's detailed drawings, all the stations have things in common.
Oh, everyone seems to have a service booth.
Okay, a bird bath, practical, and a taxi stand.
The two hedgehogs began scanning the area for signs of a taxi stand.
Bebe, do you see anything?
I do not. There was absolutely no one there.
Except for a line of ants traveling across the ground.
Let us the ants, Bebe.
Okay. Hello there! Good day to you.
The hedgehogs thundered down to the line of ants.
The giant prickly bears wish to converse with us.
One ant observed. We got on the wrong bus.
Oh no. How awful! It's a bit of a setback.
How surprising and concerning.
And now we must find our way to Camp Prickletots, the premier summer camp for adventurous young hedgehogs, armed with only our wits, our boundless energy, and my trusty compass, gifted to me by my Uncle Clarence.
We were wondering if you know of a nearby taxi stand.
For a long moment, the ants were completely silent.
Their line had stopped, creating a back -up, perhaps ten yards long.
Finally, they all began shouting at once.
The ants shouted a few more times.
Then they turned away and resumed walking, as if nothing strange had just taken place.
Little Hedgehog and Bebe blinked.
They watched the line of ants pass by them and slowly move away into the forest.
But when they turned around, intending to inspect the area again for any clues as to what they might do next, they saw the outline of a turkey in the dim, pre -dawn light.
It was a uniformed turkey, asleep in a chair at the edge of the west side of the clearing, beside a sign that read, Turkey, Taxi Stand.
Little Hedgehog and Bebe scampered over.
Hello! Good day to you.
Huh? Oh, hi, the turkey said, rubbing her eyes.
We're traveling to Camp Prickletots, the most exciting - Educational.
Adventure -filled. Informative.
Ropes -wing -packed. Spear -whittling.
Hold on a sec. The turkey said, holding up a wing, tell me again what this place is called.
Camp Prickletots. The premiere camp for adventurous young hedgehogs, located in the northwest corner of the forest.
The turkey pulled out a large map, unrolled it, and studied it for several seconds.
Little Hedgehog and Bebe exchanged several significant looks.
Their eyes wide. At length, the turkey said, you got any snails or anything?
The two tiny hedgehogs rifled through their roller bags.
They rustled up 11 crickets and three snails, which they placed on top of her map.
The turkey stared at them for a moment.
All right, hop aboard.
Yay! Yay. Yay. Little Hedgehog added, thinking fondly of her pet chameleon.
Soon, they were flying far above the trees on the turkey's back.
This is so much better than a bus, isn't it, Bebe?
Indeed, we can see much more from 100 feet in the air.
The tiny hedgehogs clung to the turkey's feathers as it flew over the trees.
The sky turned from a deep dark purple to a brilliant magenta.
And just as the turkey touched down in a clearing, beside an enormous sign that read, Welcome to Camp Prickletots, the sun inched above the tree line.
Here you go, kids. Have a fun time at camp.
Thank you. Many thanks.
Little Hedgehog and Bebe said, scrambling down from the bird, the turkey flew away, leaving them in the clearing where a cheerful teenage hedgehog sat at a desk surrounded by trees.
Several young hedgehogs waited in line.
Good morning. Welcome to Camp Prickletots.
Oh, thank you. Bebe, can you believe we finally made it?
I can't wait to tell my dad all about our adventure in my first letter.
He will be most impressed.
Good morning. Welcome to Camp Prickletots, the cheerful teenage hedgehog said with a yawn.
Hello. We're thrilled to be here.
Just go ahead and write your names on the sign sheet.
Okay. Alrighty. Looks like you're our last two campers to arrive.
Little Hedgehog is it?
Yes. You'll be in cabin number 19.
Oh, okay. And Bebe?
Bebe. Excuse me, Bebe.
You'll be in cabin number 142.
I see. Little Hedgehog and Bebe exchanged a wistful look.
Is there any way we could be in the same cabin?
We're best friends of all time.
Oh, I love that. Unfortunately, no.
Those are like the last two spots available.
But you'll see each other like every midnight meal and like occasional activities.
Little Hedgehog and Bebe blinked.
Then yawn. The sun was well above the trees.
It was time for bed.
The cheerful teenage hedgehog directed them to their respective cabins.
Just through the trees to your left.
Oh, okay. Just follow those signs.
You'll cross a creek and hang a right at the ancient oak.
Understood. The two friends parted ways at the welcome sign.
Sweet dreams, Bebe.
Fare thee well, little hedgehog.
And headed off for the summer of a lifetime.
Well, I did receive three emails about this story.
Actually, six. Just now.
Just as I was finishing up.
And, well, let's just say, the spiders are not impressed.
They took issue with several details, including train numbers that had decimals in them.
They also had various notes on the turkey taxi and the believability of its long flight.
I'll just put those emails in my circular file for now.
I hope you loved the story.
Little Stories for Tiny People is written, performed, and produced by me, Rhea Pector.
My in -house tech director, Peter Kay, runs my website and puts my stories on the internet for all of you to enjoy.
Thank you to my Little Stories premium subscribers who are making it possible for me to keep doing this.
If you would like to get more of the stories you love, access to Little Stories for Sleep, an exclusive bedtime podcast, and ad -free listening, join or gift a subscription at littlestoriespremium .com.
Thank you to Evelyn for the super important reminder message at the beginning.
And thank you to the many premium subscribers who supplied sound effects used in this story.
Thank you to Foster, Bea, Kyla, Henry, Arwen, Matthew, Annabelle, Lander, Hattie, Astin, Harper, Xander, Teddy, Malcolm, Amaya, Rowan, Tristan, Skyler, Finn, Mary, Amy, Penny, Lennox, and Thomas.
And thank you, as always, for listening in.
