From Main Water Worlds or how the clown found his treasure again

I recently frowned upon the lack of bathing fun.

Tada! Here you go.

Today I am definitely lucky. Mrs. Kati is getting her dusty rubber boots from the cellar along with a waterproof leash for me. Will we need a rescue rope for drowning people at the Main Klein Canal? Our path today will gift us with water worlds that even Aquaman would envy.

With cheerful steps, we start near the legendary mirror lakes.

Their silent guardian, the larch of eternal reverence, slightly bows its bare branches as we pass by.

One should always greet any natural space they enter with good intentions and respect, Mrs. Kati always says. Most of the time, one is kindly invited to enter the magical realm.

Done and dusted. Bam, the first wonder appears. Well, I’ll be damned!

However, that does not happen. Because the poor thing is completely confused and agitated. Just yesterday in direct flight from Malaga, today already the first scandal in familiar territory.

Did we hear it too? The clown is crying. For several days already.

Thus, it is probably his water here instead of Main water.

The clown cries because he has lost his treasure.

'Halt!' we are abruptly interrupted by deafening screams.

The young hazel witches in the neighboring abandoned garden are curious. 'Help us get out of here!' they cry continuously. They should secure a saw first, I think, while I break a small twig.

'Psssst' hisses suddenly from afar. The garden gnome with the thick lips admonishes us to keep quiet. After all, this whole thing is very embarrassing for the clown.

So we set off to look for the treasure.

While I initially try to stop the roaring stream - after all, it could have swallowed the legendary treasure, Mrs. Kati looks around calmly.

'We haven’t noticed anything, we’d be happy to help search!' shout the Kneipp guests below the small bridge. And they wade particularly long in the murky basin.

The fans of the Main curve grin carefree. 'We are clean! See for yourself!'

While Mrs. Kati is mentally approaching the lemon cake at home, suddenly a sound comes from behind the bush. 'Ha,' a little wood muncher, hidden and loud, shows us the way.

He saw a light! Follow the light. His advice.

Fully inspired, Mrs. Kati thinks that has been the best tip of her life so far. Following the light.

Whether that helps the clown. We will see. Praying helps. In the background, one can quietly listen to the choir that, along with the larch of eternal reverence, provides a dignified musical setting for the search.

And there we see him, after I had volunteered to wade through the remaining water for a while. It wasn’t that cold after all.

The clown with a troubled face and embarrassed look.

It can’t be that bad, I still think. As if there were nothing more important than treasure, like mice for example.

But then the full extent of the catastrophe reveals itself to us.

The beaver. How he sits and remains silent. Thick fur, dripping wet, arches over the poor, swollen tree stump. God bless him.

We sense the worst. What sits, sits. In this case on the clown's treasure. How do we know this? Well, it glitters a little under Mr. Beaver's delightful back.

Now I act in my official capacity. As a certified beaver eviction officer, I rush in. Huntsman on the beaver's tail.

Bam! That’s it, the beaver fur reveals what held the world in suspense.

We save the heirloom. The clown's wooden stone necklace ... 'Hallelujah, it’s beautiful!', says Mrs. Kati.

I’d rather take a sip of Main water for the adventure.

The clown gratefully declines our invitation for lemon cake and promises us fresh spring water from his very own well by the roadside at any time.

What an adventure. And the moral of the story?

Washed with all waters, the beaver is not bothered!