Dam Diligent

Issued 1975

The Beaver’s work ethic is a part of our national heritage. He’s that character we all have a gnawing feeling we ought to keep as busy as. And indeed some of us have kept so busy that we’ve taken away his job of impeding and impounding the free-flowing waters of America. But when it comes to cost-benefit ratios and environmental impact statements, he’s better than the Corps of Engineers by a damsite. So how can you best preserve a pristine stream? Leave it to Beavers.

Dolfun

Issued 1977

If anthropomorphism didn’t exist, it would have to be invented for the Dolphin, the fun-loving marine mammal with the Mona Lisa smile, the biggest tease in the seven seas. For it’s downright unscientific to say he is playful, inventive, humorous, loyal, friendly, helpful, intelligent and just plain cute, even as you and I. And it’s heresy to translate his whistles and clicks into words, but it’s perfectly obvious that he’s trying to tell us something: HAVE A GOOD DAY!

Pelican Pantry

Issued 1982

Blue Jay Bathing

Issued 1971

Here’s your friendly neighborhood loudmouth, big on law and order, publishing WANTED posters in stereo.  The Blue Jay is always where the action is because he starts it. A roving tomcat snaps a twig, a drowsy owl shifts his weight, a black snake changes his calligraphy – off goes the blue-tailed burglar alarm, rounding up a posse for the big chase. But sometimes silence is golden. Like when you’re bathing in the brook, naked as a jaybird.

Savoring Sycamore

Issued 1972

This bird had to be named the Yellow-bellied Sapsucker. What else could you call a yellow-bellied bird that drills a pegboard girdle around a tree to sip the sap (sycamore is one of 277 flavors he favors)? You can call yourself a Yellow-bellied Sapsucker, too, anytime you’re tired of being a Monkey’s Uncle. Just be sure you don’t call anybody else a Yellow-bellied Sapsucker. Except maybe a Yellow-bellied Sapsucker.

Piscine Queues

Issued 1989

If you can’t brush after every meal, better queue up regularly at the local cleaning clinic. Tiny Neon Gobies make a good living as dental and dermatological technicians for residents of the reef, venturing fearlessly into fang-filled caverns to dine on ectoparasites that thrive on their clients’ teeth, gills and scales. Look! In the barracuda’s mouth! Is that goby psychotic? No, just symbiotic. While the clients don’t tip, they never gobble the gobies. They all mind their P’s ‘n’ Q’s.