But I’m not here to write about squirrels today. Whatever woodland creates I see – be they squirrels, skunks, rats, mice, raccoons, or moles – transport me to the wonderful world of Mossflower. For those of you who had depressing childhoods, allow for me to explain. From the genius of Brian Jacques (story-teller, mouse at heart) comes a world where woodland creatures live together in peace (usually within the confines of Redwall Abbey). However, at times even the most peaceable of Woodlanders (as they refer to themselves) need to take up arms against vermin (such of Cluny the Scourge) and defend freedom, but you can be certain that their will be laughs, feasts (where do they get their milk from?), and riddles along the way. Basically, the Redwall books are some of the greatest fantasy novels ever written.

For a young boy (and later, high school student) a masterful fantasy world is not simply woven together by the author’s word on the page, but also in his heart and mind. I would often daydream about obtuse conversations with moles, teatimes with hares, and the most daring of battles alongside badgers. These daydreams wanted to find a voice, and since I was not about don sable coats and dart about the streets of Milpitas wielding a sword (simply because my mother wouldn’t let me), I did the next logical thing and sought the help of Danny Henson.
I will not go into a lengthy explanation of who Danny Henson is here – as I truly ought to write his biography one of these days – but I will give you a few quick facts:
1. Danny is one of the greatest friends who ever lived
2. Danny loves all living things
3. Danny can take a hit to the head from a cake pan
4. Danny is a big nerd
Danny, thinking that the two of us were popular enough to step away from the social scene for a while, decided that the two of us should participate in a Redwall PALS (Pall ALong Stories) group called WARESS. He went by the moniker of Dacoe and I Scren (a stoat). Oh what glorious online adventures the two of our weapon-touting companions went on – it really was quite fun.
However, what was fun for a sixth grader need not always be the pastime of a sophomore.
We continued writing for WARESS through our junior high careers, but it sort of tapered off in the early years of high school. However, the end of WARESS was not the end of Scren the stoat. For years following the conclusion of our PALS journeys, I continued to receive mail at an email account named after my furry friend – I actually still check it to this day.
Upon moving up to Washington during my freshman year, I began living out my fantasies more fulfilling way than I ever could by writing them. I inherited three acres of forest (or trespassed upon them) from my neighbors, and I set about making them safe. There were many a fern felled and path cleared by my machete, thus ensuring freedom for the Woodlanders… but not always. You see, stoats were never really on the side of good, but generally acted more like someone pursuing the American dream of financial success and dominion over others. Granted, Scren was a decent fellow – for a stoat anyways. So, my mind rarely stayed with making paths, but rather dwelled more upon massive battles and sneaking through the brush in pursuit of some tasty vittles that I might pillage to satisfy myself with until I had time to set up camp.
Scren became such a dear friend to me that I even toyed with the idea of getting a painting like that of Jimmy Stewart with a giant, visible, Harvey standing behind him with paw on shoulder. I wanted that painting to be of Scren and me.
So what happened? To tell you the truth, I’m not certain. Perhaps I stopped thinking about Scren when I moved back to California and no longer had a forest in my backyard. Perhaps I realized that girls aren’t particularly attracted to boys who wish they could feast with mice. Or maybe I became too highfalutin to write fantasy and decided to participate in more serious literature. Whatever it was that eventually forced Scren into hiding, I sort of regret it. I do not mean this as some clichéd explanation of losing my innocence, but rather I just want to express that I miss Redwall. Redwall, Narnia, and Middle Earth will always be those safe havens of my childhood that I believe I shall always return to.
So, thank you squirrels for reminding me about the wonderful feasts at Redwall Abbey, but be warned that at any moment your larder may be raided by a more mischievous than evil stoat.