Brockit Reaches the Hichts
by: Wheeler, Les
lt wis the kine o a day that‘s aften said tae be nae fit for man nor beast, or, if ye bide roon aboot the wye o Keith, a ‘saft kine o a day’. Tae Brockit it wis a day o rain, an weet, an puddles, an dubs, an clort, an aathing that maks a wee kitlin jist wint tae bide at hame.
Thir wis nae pint in gyan oot, for even if he did he‘d get drookit, an for a kitlin, or onybody else except a deuk, that‘s nae a fine thing tae be.
Sae Brockit wis jist rekkin aboot the barn fan he noticed that birds wir fleein aboot up in the rafters aneth the reef.
“Noo, fit‘s gyan on up there?“ thocht Brockit tae himsel. He‘d niver bin up there. Fu could he get up there an see fit the birds wir up till? He scootert roon the barn until he cam tae a muckle pile o secks full o stuff the fermer pit on his fields. Noo on the secks it said ‘Fertilizer‘, but Brockit couldna read that word and wadna hae kent fat it meant onywye! He clammert up ower the secks tae see if he could get up intae the rafters.
Wee!, ye ken Brockit. Up he wint an, wi a loup fae the tap o the pile, he got a grip on a rafter an pullt himsel up. There he wis, richt up abeen aathing an aabody, barrin the birds, an feelin fair prood o himsel.
Brockit took a look aroon an thocht he‘d like tae be nearer the middle o the barn. Noo, the next rafter wis a fair bittie awa for a wee kitlin tae loup, but a plank o wid wis lying atween the rafters and it wis stickin oot a bittie. Brockit crawlt slowly oot on the plank.The ither rafter didna seem sae far awa noo. Brockit teen twa-three steps back, ran forrit, an flung himsel intae space. It wis further than he‘d thocht, but he jist managed tae get a hud on the next rafter wi his wee claws an haul himsel tae safety. Jings, that wis close!
Brockit wis safe, but the plank wisna! As ‘Brockit the rocket‘ took aff, the plank slippit back an fell tae the grun wi a muckle clatter. Fit wis gyan tae happen noo? Brockit lookit aroon. It wis an affa lang wye back tae far he hid come fae. lt wis an even langer wye doon tae the pile o secks or even the barn fleer!
Brockit thocht for about twa seconds an then did fit ony bairn dis fan it‘s in trouble - he cried for his Mither! The MIA00000WS! got langer an Brockit wis gettin mair an mair feart, but he wis lucky, jist as usual. Gweed auld Mither heard him.
“Fit‘s Brockit up till noo?“ she thocht.
She wisna lang in gettin up aside him an she kent a safe wye doon. Brockit hid bin that worriet aboot himsel that he hidna noticed that thir wis a wee ledge jist under the eesins o the reef. His Mither kent that if they wir real canny then could mak thir wye roon tae far the pile o secks wis.
Brockit wis seen back doon, neen the waur o his misadventure an gled that he‘d a Mither tae look efter him. Efter that Brockit kent that the rafters an the reef wir jist for the birds.