The poem "Fathers Can Be Solitary Mountains" belongs to an unknown author (but rest assured that whoever it was, it definitely wasn't me—otherwise, I would have remembered it) and was taken from www . fathersdaycelebration . com. Over the Hedge and all of its characters belong to DreamWorks Animation and Michael Fry and T. Lewis.

'Don't think. Don't think. Just do it, do it, do it, do it...' That's what Heather kept telling herself as she dashed across the forest floor, a bundle of acorns in her arms. She was running like mad to the hedge where her family awaited.

Well...most of her family...The only ones unaccounted included her—

"Heather?"

'Crud', the young she-possum thought in frustration. 'Not here! Not now!' Plastering a cheesy smile onto her muzzle, Heather managed to face her father, hiding the acorns behind her back without spilling a single one, "Oh, uh, hey, Dad!"

"Hello, honey...," greeted Ozzie with uncertainty, waving his hand as he approached his teen daughter, "um, are you alright? You seem a tad nervous. And where are you going with those acorns?"

"Helping Hammy with his nuts!" she blurted out. Oh, she could almost kick herself for such a rash fib.

It was believable at least—kind of. The trees in the forest had been running out of nuts lately, so Hammy had had to resort to external sources for the time being, much to the dismay and concern of a certain turtle. Heather, being the thoughtful lady she was (not to mention having a slight crush on the hyperactive squirrel), always volunteered to help.

Contrary to what the others might have thought, the nut searches were actually kind of fun, at least in Heather's opinion. They meant tapping into and discovering new places—exploration of the unknown.

Plus, the time spent with Hammy showed the possum what lay beneath that red-coated ball of hyperactivity. Hammy could be a real gentleman when he wanted to be, a complete contrast to his nutty (pun intended), immature norm of behavior. He could also be very thoughtful, as evidenced by the many times he offered to scout ahead to keep Heather safe (an offer to which the possum found sweet but kindly rejected—she could handle herself, thank you very much).

On a less personal note, the other hedgies didn't mind the pair-up, although RJ did tease from time to time about whether or not searches were the only things those kids were doing.

Needless to say, Ozzie, Heather's father, wasn't comfortable about such an idea, joke or not, being reality. In fact, his attitude towards Hammy had shifted as of late. He still smiled at the younger mammal and treated him kindly, but sometimes there'd be a guarded glance whenever Hammy wasn't paying attention. Even more, Ozzie recently started to make a point of being near Heather whenever Hammy was near her, too.

At dinner.

During TV time.

At meetings.

Even during heists.

The rest of the family, Verne and RJ especially, the latter feeling the situation was "sort of, technically his fault," tried convincing the father possum that a little closeness between his daughter and Hammy wouldn't hurt anyone. Unfortunately, a father's worry for his daughter is a near-impossible force to quell—especially where a boy is involved.

"Really? Because from where I'm standing, you seem a bit rushed. I at least figured you'd take your time," Ozzie warmly chuckled as he crossed his arms, "I think you've been hanging around Hammy too much, sweetheart. Before you know it, you'll be blurring your words into less than 5 seconds."

Heather had to snort at the joke. Her father had been getting good at being funny in the past year—probably RJ's doing.

Anyway, she didn't have time to waste. Her father was still here and she had to get going to get everything ready. Only one problem: the only distraction method she knew was playing dead...and no way would her own father fall for that trick. And with everyone else busy...

'I really wish Hammy were here right now,' Heather desperately wished.

Speak of the devil (or in this case, angel) because before either possum could blink, a red blur struck Ozzie in the middle, knocking the unprepared elder to the ground and knocking the wind out of him. Eyes rolling back into focus about five seconds later, the dazed possum turned his now skyward sight to his chest, where the gigantic, childlike eyes of none other than Hammy peered straight at him.

"Hi Ozzie! I finally found you! I saw ya at breakfast this morning, but I couldn't talk to ya then because you looked busy talking to Lou, so I didn't wanna bug ya, but then you left right after that. I woulda gone after ya but then I got stuck in the kite leftover from the last heist, so RJ and Stella had to tangle me from the strings and then I ran off looking for—"

The squirrel's light-speed speech got cut off by Ozzie clamping a hand onto his jabbering mouth. "I think I can figure out the rest, Hammy," Ozzie laughed, "Thank you. Now if you could kindly step off of me."

Hammy blushed and smiled sheepishly at Ozzie's observation. The squirrel meekly removed himself from atop of the older mammal. "Oh, right, sorry."

Ozzie raised himself onto his feet and dusted off his ruffled fur before addressing the two youngsters. "So, mind telling me what the two were really doing out here? You both know we already got plenty of food from yesterday," he gently chided, crossing his arms, "Besides, you both know it's risky out there, especially near the humans."

"Dad..." Heather moaned, already seeing where her father meant for this conversation to go. "We can handle ourselves. Besides, we've done this plenty of times before."

Her father raised an eyebrow at her assertion. "Then how come you were in such a rush today? There are certainly no predators in sight." 'I hope,' he mentally added. One could never be too safe.

"OKAY, I CONFESS!" Hammy suddenly screeched, "LOU TOOK THE LAST TWINKIE YESTERDAY!"

That outburst earned Hammy baffled, wide-eyed looks from both Ozzie and Heather. Where the heck had that just come from?

"Really...?" Ozzie wondered, almost forgetting the original subject of the conversation. His face went thoughtful for a few seconds before the possum finally registered Hammy's words. "Wait a minute...that was Lou? I honestly thought either you or RJ did it. Or that it was one of the porcupine triplets."

While Heather couldn't quite blame her dad for suspecting the raccoon, the squirrel, and the porcupettes, she was starting to get very frustrated with his persistence. Today was a very special day and right now the worst possible person was holding her up.

"Oh well, that's sweets for you, Dad," she cut off with a fake smile and speaking at almost at Hammy-speed, "Here one moment, gone the next. Oh well, love to stay and chat but I have to get going!"

She only managed two steps, Hammy right beside her, before her father caught her by the shoulder, stopping her in her tracks. "Heather...," he warned.

Sighing in defeat, Heather took the only option left available: tell the truth. Face full of resignation, Heather solemnly faced her parent. "Okay, you got us, Dad. You see today's kind of...special."

Ozzie softened his face in surprise. "Special...? How special...?"

Heather hesitated and looked away, speechless. Hammy twiddled his thumbs, just as unsure how to explain. Their looks only furthered Ozzie's confusion and concern.

"You both know you can tell me," he put a hand on each of their heads, "I won't get mad."

The two youths shared a knowing look before Heather finally spoke up. "It's not that we don't wanna tell you, Dad. It's that we can't. And that's the point of today."

Ozzie blushed once he realized the implication of his only child's words. He put a paw to his chest. "But...honey, my birthday was last week. And I know for a fact that the family doesn't have anniversaries—while at least none that we've made official yet."

Heather and Hammy shared a look of shock at these words. Did Ozzie honestly have no idea of what today was?

"So like...you really have no idea what today is?"

"Well, no, I'm sorry, honey." The apologetic Ozzie shrugged his shoulders. "You and Hammy might have to explain this one."

To the elder's further confusion, his daughter and Hammy suddenly started giggling. At what, he had no idea, but all of this being kept in the dark was seriously starting to gnaw on his nerves. "Alright you two," he said in an aggravated tone, "I want to know exactly what's going on."

"Okay, Dad," Heather answered, her giggles dying down, "We'll show you. It should be ready by now, anyway... which means I won't need these then." With those words spoken, Heather tossed her acorns to the side.

"But, sweetie, weren't you taking those to the log?" Ozzie inquired, pointing his finger in the direction of the discarded seeds.

His daughter waved a dismissive hand. "Oh, don't worry about those, Dad. There's plenty where those came from. Besides, they weren't gonna be for food anyway."

Okay, this situation couldn't be anymore perplexing for Ozzie. "They weren't? Then what were they going to be for?"

His answer came in the form of Hammy suddenly lunging for his hand and grabbing it into a vice grip and then pulling him towards the hedge. "Oh, you and Lou and Verne are gonna love it, Ozzie! We've got balloons, cake, Pin the Tail on the Verminator—"

"Hammy!" Heather urgently whispered as she walked along her friend and her father. Smiling ended up being hard to resist doing, though; Hammy could be so cute when excited. "Don't spoil it."

"Oh right, sorry."

"Heather..."

"Come on, just a little bit further."

"Heather, that's what you said ten minutes ago."

"And how would do you know it's been that long? You don't even have a watch."

"Well, you make a good point, but it certainly feels that long."

Heather rolled her eyes at her father's silliness. "Oh, Dad...Okay, here we are."

"Finally," the exasperated father groaned with impatience, "now for the last time, Heather, what are you and Hammy showing me that's so...so..."

The entire forest was decked with decorations: most of the trees marked by balloons stringed to the trunks, streamers laden into the branches and leaves, tons upon tons of soda, punch, chips, cookies, and other snacks and beverages, all arranged in semi-circle around a giant multilayered chocolate and vanilla marble cake, decorated with acorns decorated in blue, red, or green, and, last but not least, a huge, red-and-blue crepe banner that read in huge, gold letters, "Happy Father's Day."

"Oh...my..."

"Jeepers..."

"I'll say."

Ozzie nearly played dead at Verne and Lou's sudden presences right next to him. When did they get here—or how, for that matter? "What are you doing here?"

The turtle and porcupine shared a look before looking back to their possum buddy. Louie took a step forward and put a hand to his chest. "Gee Wilikers, Ozzie, we're just as taken back as you are, eh."

'This is all rather touching,' Ozzie admitted. He only needed a confirmation first. "So...Father's Day...?"

Heather did not disappoint. "Yeah, it's, like, this holiday humans celebrate every year for dads, kinda like what they do for moms."

Before Ozzie could ask any more questions, RJ came jumping down from a tree, landing nimbly on his feet. "Yo-ho, Oz-man, I was afraid you weren't gonna make it!"

"So all of this...," Verne gestured to the entire, festive set-up, "is for the three of us?"

Stella, a curvy skunk, rolled her eyes in exasperation. "No, it's for Vincent. Boy, of course, it's for the three of you!"

"Still why...?" Verne piped up, even he knew he was grasping for straws at this point, "It's a human holiday. I don't see why we should start following their customs." The turtle didn't feel too comfortable about his family adopting their "neighbors'" culture completely.

"Aww, c'mon, Verne," RJ insisted as he walked to the reptile and slung an arm around his shoulders, "it's a day of appreciation! And you, Oz, and Lou get to be in the limelight for it!"

Stella nodded with a smirk. "Still thinking it sounds like a bad idea, Verne, or is that tail of yours just tingling into overdrive again?"

"Well..." Verne had to admit. His position as co-leader did establish him as a sort of father-figure, at least to Hammy, Heather, and the triplets. He looked to Lou, who looked all too eager to have a day in their honor, then to Oz, who still seemed both touched and overwhelmed by the whole situation.

"Alright, I guess we can give it a shot." There was no hiding the smile on the turtle's face. "And everyone looks like they really put effort into making this party special. It'd be a shame not to enjoy ourselves. So, uh... how exactly does this holiday work?"

"Presents! Presents!" Hammy started chanting, jumping up and down and clapping his hands together as he did. "You gotta open the presents!"

"Easy there, Hamster! We'll get to those soon. But first, we gotta get a few things settled."

Ozzie tilted his head in curiosity. "Like what?"

RJ swept a hand in gesture. "Gentlemen, this way, please?"

Ozzie, Lou, and Verne followed RJ and Heather over to the cake, the rest of the family bringing up the rear. In front of the grand pastry lay a blue and green-striped slip of paper folded hamburger-style. RJ picked it up and handed it to Heather, who unfolded it, cleared her throat, and then proceeded to read off of something written on the interior in a whispery tone.

"Fathers can be solitary mountains, All their love rock-like, steep, and strong. Though warm and caring, somehow they belong Halfway home to mothers' bubbling fountains. Each of us needs love that knows no quarter, Reminding us of bonds that cross a border, Strengthening our sense of right and wrong..."

Save for Heather's voice, which quivered with emotion the closer she came to the end, only silence permeated the air of the foragers' home. Not a dry eye remained in the clearing, especially in the case of the fathers. Ozzie was trying in vain to hold back sniffles, Lou was shaking his head in subtle motions, mouth agape and misty-eyed, and Verne had both hands over his heart, the widest smile on his face.

There were no words to describe how the three men felt towards that poem. Honored and touched were mere understatements; loved, stating the obvious. Everything but their hearts had stopped functioning, their bodies rendered numb by the sheer wave of feeling crashing over them, the faces of their loved ones the only things keeping them from fainting.

Ozzie, the only one of the trio coherent in mind enough, spoke out, "That...," he put a hand to his heart and dreamily sighed, "That...was pure poetry." The father possum dashed to his little girl and scooped her into his arms, the paper drifting away to a faraway spot, swept away by the wind produced by Ozzie's rush.

No one bothered to notice it. Its words brought so much emotion that could be described by only so many words. Hugs and kisses abound in the air as the noon sun brought through the thick clouds and showered light upon this touching scene.

Heather did not hesitate to return her father's affection in kind, wrapping her arms around her parent with all of her strength.

"Thank you, sweetheart," Ozzie lovingly whispered into her heart, "even if I'm not used to this holiday yet, it means so much that you did this for us. For me."

"Happy Father's Day, Dad." The two possums gently nuzzled each other. This silent moment between was perfect and would not break for anything.

"Now then...about those presents..."

Well, okay, almost anything...

Father's Day isn't about how much you can give your dad. It's about how you can show him the appreciation you feel towards the way he's raised you over the years.