DIGGER the Worm
A Big Dig
His name was Digger and he had very few friends. Maybe that was because he was a worm. But Digger was no ordinary worm. When he was small ... well, all worms are small ... but when he was really small, even for a worm, he loved to dig in the farmer's garden among the vegetables and in the leaves under that big old maple tree with the swing hanging down. When his mother saw how quickly he could disappear into the ground and how deep he could go, she naturally called him Digger.
One day, while playing in the woods, Digger decided to see how far he could dig. But this time he wouldn't dig straight down. No, this time he would sort of dig down and across and then up again.
Who knows where he would come out?
So Digger picked a nice spot under the big old maple tree with the swing hanging down, put his hat carefully on the yellow leaves under the tree ... because his mother told him never to dig with his hat on ... and he started digging.
First he went straight down until he was a long way under the roots of the big old tree. Then he turned and went across.
It was dark down there, deep in the ground, but that didn't bother Digger. He just kept digging and digging. His mother would be proud of him. His father would be proud of him. He would go to places no worm had ever been. He would be able to tell wonderful stories of his adventures.
Now Digger had a very poor memory and often forgot what he was doing and why he was doing it. This day he wasn't paying attention to where he was going, Digger bumped his head on a root, and it hurt. He looked around and saw that he was in the ground. What was he doing there? He had forgotten. Why was he digging? He had forgotten that too.
So he decided to dig up to the top again to see where he was. He was very excited when he poked his head through the ground and looked around. Now he remembered. He was looking for a new place.
He crawled up onto the ground and raised his head as far as he could. He had never seen this place before. It really was a new place. His heart was beating faster and faster.Then he saw a tree and he wiggled over and climbed up so he could get a better look around.
That's when he saw it. It wasn't very far away. It was a garden full of vegetables. It was even better than his garden and since gardens were his favorite place to dig he climbed down the tree and started toward the garden.
When he was nearly there he saw something else that made him very excited. It was a big old maple tree, right beside the garden, and the ground under the tree was covered in golden leaves. It was even bigger and better than his big old maple tree.
When he was very close to the tree he saw something else that made him excited. It was a hat, just like his hat, and it was lying on the golden leaves under the big old tree.
He could hardly wait to tell his mother about his adventure. So he wouldn’t forget he kept repeating it: he had found a vegetable garden and a big old maple tree and a hat and they were all so much better than his garden and tree and hat.
“Digger!”
Somebody was calling his name.
“Digger!”
There it was again. It was his name. How could anyone know his name, here, in this wonderful new place he had found?
“Digger? Is that you?”
Then he saw something else, but this time it didn’t make him excited.
“Digger! You come home right this minute. Where have you been? Your father and I have been looking for you for hours!”
“But mother,” Digger said, “how did you find this place? It’s a new place, a different garden, a bigger old maple tree, and look - a new hat, just like mine!”
His mother said, “Digger, you silly little worm. This is the same garden and the same tree and that is the same hat I gave you for Christmas.”
Digger sat on the ground, pulled on his hat and looked around. The big old maple tree had a swing hanging down. His mother was right. She was always right. Now he remembered. This was the same old place where he grew up, where he played, where he learned to dig.
He had gone very deep into the ground and dug long and hard and he was still in the same old place. Nothing new. Nothing exciting. When he ate his supper he was sad. He never liked anything his mother made. It was always the same. Nothing new. Nothing exciting.
That night he lay in his bed and stared at the wall. His bed was in a wormhouse deep in the ground beneath the farmer’s vegetable garden and the wall he was staring at was just plain old dirt. It wasn’t new and it wasn’t exciting.
“What are you thinking?”
It was his father, standing at the door to his small room. His father spent most of the day digging in the garden, chewing up the old vegetables which the farmer didn’t use and turning them into soil. Digger didn’t see his father very often. His father always seemed too busy.
But now his father was at the door, asking a question. Digger jumped out of bed.
“Father, today I went deep into the ground and when I came up I thought I was in a new place ... but it was this same old place. But I know I can dig deep enough and far enough so when I come up I’ll be in a new place.”
His father sat on his bed and patted Digger on his head.
“Digger, you can dig the deepest holes I’ve ever seen. You can dig faster and farther than any worm I know. One day I will want you to help me, in the garden. But, tomorrow, you should go out and see what you can find, where you can go, how deep you can dig, how far you can burrow ...”
“Burrow?” asked Digger. ‘What’s burrow?”
His father patted him on the head again.
“Burrow means digging. You dig, and it means you burrow.”
“Then my name is Burrow. You call me Digger because I can dig. So now you can call me Burrow.”
“No,” his father said, “I think one name is quite, quite enough ... and I like the name Digger. Now go to sleep and dream of digging, tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow, father, I’ll really surprise you. I’ll dig and I’ll burrow until I find a new place which we’ve never seen before. A garden with more vegetables. A tree with more leaves. A place where the rain never comes into our house. A place where the grass is greener and the sun is brighter and the sky is bluer and the ...”
“Digger, Digger, go to sleep. It’s very late and you’ll need your rest before tomorrow comes and you start to dig.”
“Tomorrow, father, I’ll burrow.”
His father smiled and patted Digger on the head one last time, then walked out of the room. Digger crawled again into bed and dreamed of tomorrow, of a place where the grass is greener and the sun is brighter and the sky is bluer and the ...
Then Digger fell asleep.
Early the next day, Digger said goodbye to his mother.
“Mother,” Digger said, “I’m ready to burrow all day and all night until I find a new place where the rain never comes into our house and the grass is greener and the sun is brighter and the sky is bluer and the ...”
“Wait, wait,” his mother said. “You can dig all you want ...”
Digger said, “Burrow, mother. I can burrow all day. You said dig. But I will burrow, farther than I’ve ever done before.”
“Okay,” his mother said, “but I want you home for dinner.”
And she kissed him on the cheek and placed his hat on his head and watched him crawl up and out of the wormhouse. Then she went to clean his room and straighten the sheets on his bed.
Digger was a good little worm and she loved him very much. He would dig all day and come home for supper and he would be very tired. Then she would put him in his bed and kiss him goodnight.
She never thought that Digger would dig very far. After all, he was just a little worm.
Yesterday, when he tried to burrow to a new place, he just came back to the same place. She thought that he would do the same thing today.
But she was wrong. Today Digger would not come back for supper. He would dig very far and he would find a place that he had never seen before. But it wasn’t a place where the sun was brighter or the grass greener or the sky bluer. In fact, there was very little sun where he was going, and no grass and hardly any sky.
A New Place
When Digger got to the old maple tree he looked back at the farmer’s vegetable garden. He certainly didn’t want to see that garden when he came out of the ground. He wanted to see a new place.
He was so excited that he started digging right away. First he went straight down for a long time, then he turned and went across, away from the garden, away from the maple tree, away from his wormhouse. But this time he wouldn’t stop until he was far from home. He wouldn’t stop until he was so tired he couldn’t burrow any more. He wouldn’t stop until he had come to a new place.
Digger went through hard ground which made his hands sore. Then he went through soft ground which felt so good on his back. Then he went under the roots of some big trees. Then he went around a big rock buried in the ground. And all the time he tried not to forget what he was doing, because he had such a poor memory.
Sometimes the earth was wet and that felt wonderful. Sometimes the earth was dry and that didn’t feel so wonderful. Sometimes it was cold and