Brockit an the Binder Moose
by: Wheeler, Les
Brockit wis lyin in the barn ae day warmin himsel in the sun as it shone in the barn door. He wis dozin awa dreamin aboot the fine fish he micht get for his tea fan a wee movement in the strae in the corner o the barn catchit the neuk o his ee.
‘Fit wis that?’ thocht Brockit tae himsel. ‘Wis it a wee moosie?’ Brockit opened his een a bittie wider an glowered ower intae the far corner. Nae a thing stirred. He didna gie up though. Brockit wisna a cat for naething. Sure enough there wis a reestle o strae. That wis a moose!
Brockit got tae his feet, or, maybe it should be his paws, an set aff to hunt the moosie.
He crawled quaetly alang the barn fleer on his wame makin nae noise ava till he cam tae the strae. Fit hid reestled for the moosie, reestled for Brockit. The moosie heard the soond an took aff across the barn like the verra Deil himsel wis efter him.
Twa flicks o a coo’s tail later, Brockit wis efter the moose!
Noo, the fermer hid been fermin a lang time an in the corner o the barn lay an auld binder. It hidna been used since the fermer wis a loon, but he kept it tae remind him on the days fan it wis used tae cut the corn at the hairst.
It turned oot the sheaves o corn aa ready tae mak the stooks that ye eesed tae see aa ower the countryside in days lang syne. Man, but it wis a bonny sicht, the lang stracht rows o stooks!
Noo, the binder wis made up o aa kinds o levers, an wheels, an cogs, an belts an slaps o canvas, It wis a gey odd lookin machine aathegither!
The moosie wisna feel! It kent if it got intae the workins o the binder, it wid hae a better chunce o aitin its ain supper that nicht an nae being pairt o Brockit’s!
Intae the binder wint the moose an Brockit wis richt ahin it. The moose wis mair on Brockit’s mind than watchin far he wis gyan.
It wisna lang afore Brockit stoppit worryin aboot the moose an began tae worry aboot himsel. He wis in sic a state aboot catchin the moose that he got himsel stuck among the belts an wheelies o the binder an he couldna get himsel oot!
It wasna lang afore he wis miaowing, an miaooowing an miaooooowin! - ye’ll ken fit I mean.
Weel, luckily for Brockit, it wisna lang afore the fermer heard the din that he was makkin an cam tae see fit aa the din wis aboot.
He seen got Brockit oot, an gey gled Brockit wis tae be free. ‘Ah, weel,’ thocht Brockit, ‘maybe I should bide awa fae machines. Next time a moose rins in among the aul machines I’ll jist let it be. That’ll be far safer!