Being a beaver would have been alright if D.A. had cool beaver friends to hang out with, but this neck of the woods was sadly lacking in cool young beavers. The only beaver who qualified as both cool and young was his friend Darrell, and even Darrell was getting a bit old for D.A.’s standards. He wasn’t old, he was just enough older than D.A. for the age gap to be noticeable. But he was otherwise great. He was tall and handsome and the best swimmer around.
Other than Darrell, there was only D.A.’s father, Thundertail, the retired patriarch of the beaver dam. The other beavers revered him as a sage, but to D.A. he just looked like a greying beaver who was getting pudgy from eating too much beaver cheese. The beaver cheese made him act crazy sometimes, too.
D.A.’s sister Hazel was too goodie-two-shoes to be cool. She and her friend Sheila fox spent their time on stupid girly stuff.
The rest of the beaver clan were either too young or too old.
Today, like most days, D.A. skulked in the distance as Father took Hazel into a grove of aspen trees that grew next to the pond. Even from the far side of the water, D.A. could hear Father’s grandiose tones as he described the qualities of different types of wood.
Hazel’s fox friend Sheila lounged in the sun a short distance away. She always napped when she got bored of Father lecturing Hazel.
Soak in all the attention, Hazel, D.A. thought with a scowl. A flicker of movement caught his eye. At first he thought it was Sheila, but on second glance he saw that it wasn’t Sheila at all. It was a strange fox, and not a well-meaning one. It crept round the curve of the pond until it had cut off Father and Hazel’s way back to the water. Father was still droning on about aspen wood, totally unaware.
All of D.A.’s resentment toward his father and sister vanished. He tried to call out, but the wind swept his cry away.
The fox had lowered itself into the grass now, perfectly stealthy. Father was leading Hazel out of the aspen grove, holding branches of different diameters in each hand.
Jumping up and down, D.A. shouted as loudly as he could. Why couldn’t they hear him? The sound of the rushing water must have been louder where they were! Even Sheila was still dozing in the sun.
Father and Hazel ambled closer to the crouching fox, when suddenly —
A meadowlark flying above the pond let out the most enchanting song. The fox stood up from the grass, its sharp eyes captivated by the meadowlark above.
D.A.’s father gave a cry of alarm and leapt at the fox, using his sturdy beaver tail to knock it into the water during its moment of distraction. It went with a yelp, paws flailing. Thundertail and Hazel dove into the pond and jetted across to D.A.’s side. He came running down the hill to meet them as they reached the land.
Crying with relief, D.A. threw his paws around both of them at once. “I was calling and calling from up here but you couldn’t hear me! Oh, Father, Hazel, I love you so much!”
For a few minutes the three of them were a total mess — hugs and head-pats and, “It’s alright now, it’s alright now,” all around. By the time D.A. scrubbed away his tears, he realized the world looked different to him. He was mesmerized by the way the sun glittered off the water. He heard birdsong all around, and it was gorgeous. “It’s music!” he cried. “It was the meadowlark’s music that saved you from the fox!” He gripped Father and Hazel by the paws. “Music is the answer!”
If music had made the fox forget about hunting his family, even for a moment, imagine what other harmony it could bring! It could reunite the woodland creatures, put an end to the predatory cycle of life and death, and welcome a new era of peace and joy for all species!
“I’m going to start a band!” he announced. “We can make music to heal people’s problems and defeat wicked foxes!”
“Not all foxes are wicked,” protested Sheila fox, who’d just scampered across the beaver dam to join them. “If you want to bring harmony and all that, you’re going to have to include foxes in your band.”
“Does that mean you’re in?” asked D.A. enthusiastically.
Sheila looked at Hazel. “Only if she is.”
Hazel stared at D.A. in astonishment. “A band? Are you serious?”
“Well, Darrell can be the bass . . . And Beawzo and Eklypto will join too! Six is enough, isn’t it?”
“I suppose . . .” Hazel made a face. “But we don’t know how to make music!”
D.A. grabbed her and Sheila by the paws. “Of course we don’t, but that’s not a problem. We’ll just have to learn how to play first . . .”
…& so it began, the jam band… the Beaver Jam band to be exact. Though, not exactly since the 2nd vocalist is a fox, however 100% accurate in regards to the name because the band’s name is Beaver Jam! Their first rehearsal was not as much about making music together as it was about fumblin’ around exploring their new instruments they crafted from the nearby aspen trees. However, much momentum was gained when the smooth & groovy beaver, Darrell, began to find himself in his playing. He wanted his bass to be an extension of who he was as the coolest beaver he knew, & that’s when he stumbled upon slap-bass! His beaver thumb would whack the strings with the same energy Darrell gave everything else in his life & in that moment the whole band knew the right direction to take their music.
The bass melodies caused the drummer Beawzo to tingle with groove as he found it easy to jam along. Hazel added her personal touch on guitar to embellish Darrell’s wicked bass riffs. Ekylpto, being the natural genius that he is, started to burst with creative ideas from keyboards, saxophones, synthesizers, & many other unique instrument accompaniments.
Then it happened! A usually accident-prone rambling ball of brown brown fur, who often refers to himself as “Duh-Beaver,” (something he confuses while sounding out his initials D.A. which actually stand for his full name “Dimitri Anatoli Beaver.”) heard the new slap-bass from Darrell & became overwhelmed with passion!
“That’ it!” He proclaimed, as he picked up the mic & effortlessly began to fit in the song rhythmically with his new-found beaver flow.
D.A. started dancing around the stage in a way he had never felt before. It was at this point Sheila Fox grabbed the other mic. It was perhaps the most magical moment of the day, as everyone felt as though the Earth had stopped & the great dam in the sky opened for but a brief moment. Releasing down to the forest-floor were the angelic notes of the most captivating, beautiful, & inspiring melody ever conceived. Sheila Fox only had to open her lips for the magical harmonies to flood her imagination & pour out into the normally-calm forest. The rest of the band’s hearts seemed to stop, only to flutter back to life in beat with the pulse of the groove. The band had not only discovered their sound, but the power at the source of their music.
Everyone jammed with each other while D.A. looked to his nearby father, Thundertail, in the eyes. In that special moment, both father and son realized that their music truly has the potential to unite the animals of the forest.
As the revered patriarch & wise-old sage of the dam, Thundertail looked out upon his family & friends, then raised his right hand up in the air to motion everyone to pause.
“Dis music sure is stanky, in-fact, it’s got a funky stank ‘bout it. Why, dats it! We makin’ funky music. Dat bass line is more stanky dan me!” …& that is the story of how funk music was first created… or at least within this zany little forest! Funk Forward!!
