The Adventures of Professor Hawthorne: Pokemon Historian

Professor Hawthorne: The Hat and the Unexpected Usefulness of the Mareep

From the Notebooks of Professor Hawthorne

{as recovered and edited by Gibson Monk}

The Hat and the Unexpected Usefulness of the Mareep

As my few friends know, and I fancy to count you dear readers among them as well, I have since my youth been accustomed to wear a top hat through even my most strenuous travels across lands and weathers of all sorts. The following story recounts the time that a kind-hearted and rather daring Mareep saved my hat from a cold, ignominious demise, and in doing so also saved me from a similar fate.

I am aware that current fashion has long since passed me by, but to this day I persist in keeping my top hat about me for various reasons, the prime among them being - and here I will let you in on a not inconsiderable secret - that my top hat doubles as a convenient means of keeping my burdens less cumbersome, as I hide all sorts of valuable kit inside it. Perching such things on my head helps keep my hands more free, as well as dissuading theft of valuable possessions, my considerable height serving to keep potential pickpockets and cutpurses at bay. The hat saved by the Mareep is with me still, and I glance at it resting upon the mantle as I compose this page by a comfortable fireplace, though it has been repaired and pieced replaced so often over the years that one could argue there is nothing left of the original - but I feel it to be the same hat, nevertheless. It so happens that the upper eight inches or so of my hat currently serves as the home of a Ribombee, whose Pokemon-attracting Sweet Scent has been of immeasurable utility in my studies.

At the time of this story, however, I had yet to make the acquaintance of this good Ribombee. Indeed, at the precise moment when the drama of this story becomes evident - that of a gust of wind sweeping my hat into an unpleasantly deep and cold pool at the base of a mountain waterfall, it contained in various hidden pockets the following: three spare metal nibs for my quill, a candlewick, a metallurgical sample, and most inconveniently, due to the expected frigidity of the coming night, the flint and tinder I planned to use to start a life-preserving fire.

The heaviness of the metallurgical sample, which after all proved to be of limited scientific interest, is the thing that most contributed to the rapid sinking of my precious hat. I cursed more softly than the gravity of the situation called for, and regretted not placing the strange metal in the valise with the Mareep {a valise is an old-fashioned, hand-held suitcase - editor's note}, which I was transporting back to my homeland from its natural, warmer clime. Pokeball technology had not advanced very far at this point, and large valises were the normal means of transporting Pokemon. But I was concerned lest the metal have an adverse affect on the creature, though when I saw the hat disappear into the dark water I chastened myself to have had too soft a heart when it came to the welfare of the Mareep, as the consequence appeared to be a lingering demise from the elements.

I need not have worried, and perhaps it was that Mareep's actions that convinced me early in my career that great concern with for the welfare of Pokemon is not in the least misplaced, and so kept me from the path of less scrupulous examiners of Pokemon.

The Mareep, as you likely know, possesses a coat of wonderfully soft fur. This fur traps air about the body that serves as a natural insulator, and this keeps the creature warm against cold weather and cool in the summer heat. In short, while I faced the prospect of freezing in the harsh mountain passes, the Mareep would have survived quite well and was in no danger. I had release it from the valise as I prepared to make camp, and the creature witnessed the ill-favored gust of wind and my hat's subsequent plunge into the watery depths. I should mention here that I am unable to swim - whether my fear of water developed due to the awareness that my lanky body and dense bones give me limited buoyancy, or whether such fear is instinctive to one so composed, I cannot say. But there it is.

The kind-hearted and intuitive Mareep gave its little cry in recognition of my distress and inability to act. My mind was already racing through any possibility to salvage the situation. I considered whether tying a rope to my foot and securing this to a stone would let me dive down into the pool and then pull myself back up, but I realized that given the depth of the pool the hat would already be too far down, and I would run out of breath before accomplishing my task. I turned toward the Mareep, hatching some improbable plan that would allow me somehow to use its electrical powers to start the vital fire, but to my surprise the creature had moved to the edge of the pool. I watched, incredulous, as it calmly lept into the water and sank down.

Mareep, like most creatures, can swim naturally, but to sink down under the water is not something most will do unless they are equipped to survive such an act. This seemed improbable for a pastoral animal like the Mareep. I watched the surface of the water for a considerable time and could only imagine that the Mareep had suffered some fit of madness that drove it to a self-destructive act. Perhaps its sensitive nature registered some understanding of my own grim outlook of impending doom, and it sympathetically desired to share my fate. At this notion I felt not inconsiderable guilt; as I mentioned previously, the Mareep was in no danger due to its wonderful fur. I sighed. The time that had passed could mean nothing other than the creature's drowning, and I was momentarily distracted from my own impending demise by contemplating that of the poor Mareep.

But just as I was about to turn back to whatever desperate plans I could make to save myself, the nose of the Mareep broke the surface of the pool. This was followed quickly by the mouth, which held, to my great surprise and delight, my hat!

All at once I understood. The air the Mareep traps in its fur that normally serves as a means of insulation can also cling to it underwater. The creature must have used this trapped air to sustain itself during its long, deep dive. Flint and tinder recovered, I was soon warming my chilled fingers at a crackling fire, and in its glow the Mareep dried its fur and my hat dried its leather and felt.