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by
Michael Lawrence
There was once a hippopotamus called Gracie who was rather fat because she was about to give birth to a calf.
One fine spring day, Gracie wandered into a meadow full of flowers that dazzled and danced in the sunshine. She had never seen so many flowers, and she ran across the meadow, tumbling and rolling and rolling and tumbling through the bright spring flowers, over and over and over, all across the meadow, from end to end and back again.
Gracie liked it so much in the flower meadow that she didn't want to leave. So she didn't. For days, she stayed. For weeks. Tumbling and rolling and rolling and tumbling through the flowers to her heart's content. Until the day her calf was born. Gracie stared at her new calf in amazement. The new arrival was covered from head to tail in pink and red flowers. Gracie thought she was the most beautiful hippopotamus that had ever been born.
''I'll call you Poppy," she said, "after one of the brightest flowers in the meadow. "
But there were some who did not think Poppy beautiful. They laughed at her.
"A hippopotamus covered in flowers?" the young hippopotamuses cried. "How ridiculous! How absurd! Whoever heard of such a thing? We have a better name for you. We'll call you FlowerPotamus!"
One day Poppy was sitting unhappily by the river wishing she wasn't covered in flowers. She didn't like being stared at and joked about. She didn't want to be different. She wanted to be like the others, not colourful, not covered in flowers, but grey and ordinary: Suddenly she heard a shout.
"Look, there's FlowerPotamus, admiring herself in the water! "
"Come on, we'll show her! Her and her fine flowery skin!"
Six young hippopotamuses charged at her. Poppy jumped up in fright and ran through a nearby gate. And there she found a meadow full to bursting with flowers that dazzled and danced in the sunshine. She raced across the meadow, and would have run out the other side but the way was barred by a fence.
"Oh, what shall I do?" she cried. "Where can I hide?"
There was nothing for it but to wait for the others to catch her, and dance round her, and poke their usual fun. Poppy lay down among the flowers with a heavy sigh.
But then something very odd happened. The young hippopotamuses rushed into the meadow and ...stopped. Looked about them, puzzled.
"Where did she go?"
"Is that her?"
"No, that's just flowers."
"Wait, I think I see her. Over there!"
"No, it's a trick of the light, she must have got out somehow."
Poppy realized that they couldn't see her in the flower-covered meadow because she too was covered in flowers! She looked like part of the meadow!
She lay quite still, hardly daring to breathe, and soon the others gave up and went away: Then, Poppy laughed out loud, and tumbled and rolled and rolled and tumbled through the bright spring flowers, over and over and over, all across the meadow, from end to end and back. again.
From that day on, Poppy knew what to do when the other hippopotamuses chased her. She simply ran into a flower-covered meadow and lay down. It worked every time. They never saw her.
All through the spring she played this trick on them, and all through the summer too.
But then, one day, she ran into a meadow and the flowers were gone. Leaves were falling from the trees, but she couldn't hide among leaves. The other hippopotamuses caught her and made her life a misery:
With nowhere to hide, and no friend to talk to, Poppy became sad and lonely. Tears sprang from her eyes like enormous petals. This only made things worse. Now they laughed at her tears.
Winter came, and Poppy made up her mind to leave the herd. She knew that whatever she did, however friendly she was, the others would never treat her as one of them. She didn't belong there.
She travelled a long way, and as she travelled the skies darkened. Rain began to patter down. Thunder rumbled overhead. Lightning struck the trees. She took shelter in a cave.
Darkness closed about her and she was glad. ''I'll stay here for ever," she thought. "No one will laugh at me if they can't see me."
But then she heard a voice from deep in the deepest dark. "Who's there?" said the voice. "What are you?"
Poppy's heart thumped. "My name's Poppy, and I'm a hippopotamus."
"Oh," the other voice said gloomily "Er, you're not thinking of stopping, are you?"
"Well, I was," Poppy replied.
"Hm! Well then, I'd better tell you that I'm a hippopotamus too."
"In that case," Poppy thought to herself, "it's a good thing it's so dark in here."
Weeks passed, and, though they could only just make one another out in the gloom, the two hippopotamuses began to get on rather well. Poppy sometimes wished they could go out into the light.
"But if we did," she thought, "he'd laugh at me, like all the others."
So they stayed inside, in the dark, all through the long winter months.
Gradually the light of spring reached into the cave, creeping a little further in each day, along the walls and floor and ceiling, until the darkness was no longer anything like as deep and black.
And when there was hardly any darkness left. ..they went outside and simply stared at one another.
"But you're just like me!" cried Poppy.
"And you're just like me!" cried the blue hippopotamus.
"When your mother was expecting you," Poppy said, "did she live in a meadow full of flowers?"
"Yes!" said the blue hippopotamus.
"And did the others laugh at you and poke fun so that in the end you ran away?"
"Yes!" said the blue hippopotamus.
"Well! " said Poppy: "
"Yes!" said the blue hippopotamus.
"And if I may say so. .."
"Yes?" said Poppy:
"You're beautiful. "
Now as it happened, just beyond the cave there lay a meadow full of flowers that dazzled and danced in the sunshine. The two hippopotamuses laughed out loud and they tumbled and rolled and rolled and tumbled through the bright spring flowers, over and over and over, all across the meadow, from end to end and back again. They never wanted to leave.
Time passed, and the two hippopotamuses produced calves of their own. And each calf, to their delight, was covered from head to tail in flowers.
Each spring the whole family would tumble through the meadow to their hearts' content, and if strangers came they simply lay down until they went away: No one laughed at the flower- covered hippopotamuses, no one made fun of them, no one chased them, because no one knew they were there.
