Beaver Wearer

by Liquid Truth

Racoona Matata

Cold. How I hate the cold.

I've lived through many winters before, but this one was colder than usual. It might have something to do with the difference between our worlds. It was amazing how the ponies were able to control the seasons, but it seemed that temperature was still something of a mystery to them.

Less contemplating, more walking. Walking made me feel warm, which was a good thing. Walking would also take me to a warmer place, which was another good thing.

And so, one good thing after another, I found myself reaching a certain cottage on the edge of Ponyville. There was a short winding road that leads directly to the front door, a small bridge connecting the gap where a river cut through. Right and left, there were a few trees with empty birdhouses, their owners no doubt having a warm holiday down southward. The cottage itself looked serene, with the afternoon sun casting a warm glow on one side and the white snow giving off a soft glint on the other. The flickering light from one of the windows invited outsiders with the promise of warmth and comfort.

I smiled and continued my walk, the early winter snow crunching underneath my shoes and gathering upon my hat.

Speaking of which. As I reached the front door, I took off my hat and carefully shook off the snow from it. It was my favorite hat, warm and comfortable, simple and American.

I put my hat back on and knocked on the door. There were a few shuffling noises, along with some chittering. No doubt those lovely furry friends of Fluttershy.

The top of the door swung open, and a wave of warmth along with a gentle, smiling face greeted me. "Hello, Ben."

I smiled back and gave a little bow. "Miss Shy. May I come in?"

She chuckled and opened the bottom compartment. "Of course, Ben. Would you like some tea or hot cocoa?"

"Coffee, please."

Another round of chuckle, this time accompanied by mine.

As I stepped inside, I closed the door behind me and took in the atmosphere. A few critters were skittering about, seemingly chatting with one another and having tea parties in small groups. A few of the bigger animals were laying all over the floor and on top of one another, some snoozing and some watching me lazily. Another mystery for another time, I suppose, was why they didn't hibernate⁠—perhaps it was years of Fluttershy's acquaintanceship that made them accustomed to a new habit.

I took off my coat and hung it on the hanger on the wall next to the door. As I took off my hat, a few critters let out distressed squeaks. I raised an eyebrow. Was my balding that scary to animals?

As I turned around, I found Fluttershy staring blankly at me. I reached out to my balding. "Is there something wrong, Fluttershy?"

Fluttershy pointed at my hat. "What is that?"

I held the hat with both hands and presented it like it was the holy grail. "It's my hat."

She shook her head. "No, I mean, what is that made of?"

I turned it around, taking a good look at the front and the back, turning it inside out and checking that it was, indeed, "Fur."

A few animals skittered away, while some of the larger ones stood up with attention.

"F-Fur?"

"Fur," I repeated. "Beaver fur, if I recall correctly." A family of beavers took an aggressive stance, out of my notice.

"B-beaver fur!?"

"Well, yes." I held the hat in one arm like Shakesphere did a skull in Hamlet. "Beaver fur. Hunted professionally by myself, sewn together as a symbol of America. Announcing the simplicity and innocence of primitive morals. A sartorial object that came to evoke America and its cause."

"You kill beavers!?"

I blinked. Only now did I see the distress written all over Fluttershy's face. "Well, yes. Is there something wrong?"

"Y-you... you kill beavers!"

I sighed. "Yes, Fluttershy, I did." I held the hat back high. "But for a good cause! For warmth, for comfort, and, ultimately, covering my balding. Oh, there was also that one time when I came to French with this, but I forgot what that's about." I chuckled. "Must be arbitrary."

As I look down, I found that Fluttershy was protectively standing in front of a family of beavers, her wings spread wide and her eyes glaring straight into mine.

I raised an eyebrow. "What? You want to go beaver hunting too?"

Her glare hardened as animals all around me gave a collective hiss. "No! I would never do anything so... so evil!"

I let out an exasperated sigh. "What, you love beavers that much?"

"Yes!"

I stared. "Oh." I put my hat on the hanger, took in all the daggers glared at me, and clasped my hands with a smile. "Well! That was a... misunderstanding."

"You kill beavers!"

I threw my hands in exasperation. "Yes, yes, I did! Long ago! The days are far behind me now, I don't hunt anymore. Besides, it was cold. If I didn't go hunting, I would need to buy myself one that was made by the same thing! No difference!"

Fluttershy pushed back the beavers who had been aggressively pushing against her wings. "Didn't you think that, maybe, there was another way to solve that?"

I grumbled. "I could've sat inside my house all winter and not help my fellow comrades in turning Boston into a sea of tea. But that's not an option. One, because it didn't happen in winter, and two... uh... well, let's just say it's something important."

Fluttershy took a deep breath and let it out. In a calmer voice, she asked, "There is another way. There's always another way."

I scoffed. "If you could show it to me, I'd be most pleased."

Fluttershy turned around and addressed her fellow friends, saying, "Alright, everyone, we're going to show Mr. Franklin the other way so he won't kill any more beavers in his home—"

"I said I don't do it anymore!"

"—But I need you to calm down first. Is that okay?"

Miraculously, all the murderous looks the animals gave me all died out, one by one until they set their eyes upon Fluttershy, waiting for instructions.

Fluttershy picked up a beaver and put it slowly on her head. As she let go, it curled in a comfortable sitting position, draping its belly over Fluttershy's head and ears and its tail dangling to her neck.

I blinked. Looking down, I found a raccoon with its back turned on me, watching Fluttershy with passive interest. As I reached out and picked it up, it squeaked once before obediently waiting for me to put it back down, which was on my head. As I let go, it curled in itself, just like the beaver had done with Fluttershy.

It was, amazingly, very comfortable and warmer than my previous hat.

"...Huh."

Fluttershy smiled, and all the critters looked at me with expectant looks.

I took out my phone and quickly dialed Teddy's number. Hopefully he hasn't killed anything yet.

Author's Note:

Disclaimer: I don't know what Benjamin Franklin's Fur Cap was made out of. Some said it was a coonskin hat, some said it was beaver fur, some claimed that it was marten fur.

Comments

[Venerable Ro]

I don't know what Benjamin Franklin's Fur Cap was made out of. Some said it was a coonskin hat, some said it was beaver fur, some claimed that it was marten fur.

Yes, yes it was.

[Lord Dominator]

Amazing

[FanOfMostEverything]

I took out my phone and quickly dialed Teddy's number. Hopefully he hasn't killed anything yet.

This is Teddy Roosevelt we're talking about. Unless he has another respiratory condition to beat to death, he's probably shot something.

In any case, enjoyably silly... though really, Fluttershy, the food web never stopped being a thing. Hunters do so for more than just warmth. (Yes, "She Talks to Angel" was a thing. I still say Fluttershy was sleep deprived to the point of delirium in that episode.)

[Werbell III]

10044985
He would definitely go Manticore hunting