Tom and the flying sofa: Part 1: Magical Encounters

Author and copyright: E.P. Visscher

The dreamy cat

I woke up covered in sweat. Even though it was dark, I knew that something was there. The silence in my room was paralysing; my arms felt like lead, and all I could sense was my rapidly beating heart. Then, suddenly, I heard a rasping sound. I hadn’t imagined it after all; something was hiding below my bed! My thoughts were racing now. If I could manage to shout loudly enough, perhaps my grandpa would wake up. But what if the creature were to attack me before he arrived? I couldn’t think of anything to defend myself with, so I dropped the idea and pretended to be asleep. After it had been quiet for a while, I felt myself relax a bit more. What was I actually afraid of? Maybe it was only a vivid dream? I tried to see if I was awake by pinching my arm; it hurt so much I could barely suppress a scream! I needed to find out more about this intruder, but how? What could I do to trigger a response? Perhaps I could snore! That way he wouldn’t know that I was awake! I thought this was a great idea, and pretended to snore as loudly as I could. A few moments later, something jumped onto my bed, and slowly made its way towards my face. All I could do was lie still, unable to move, until I heard purring sounds close to my ear. It was my grandpa’s cat! I couldn’t believe it! She must have climbed up the tree to get to my open window!

I felt relieved and started to breathe normally again. The cat greeted me by pushing her wet nose against mine. ‘You smell good,’ she meowed. I was about to reply, when I suddenly realised that I was able to understand her! ‘Are you sure I’m not dreaming?’ I asked the cat. ‘Many things are possible here,’ she declared, ‘as long as you are interested.’ ‘Oh,’ was all I could say. ‘Well, young man, shouldn’t we finally introduce ourselves?’ ‘My name is Thomas,’ I said, ‘but you can call me Tom.’ ‘Nice to meet you, Tom, I’m Kit.’ ‘Is that short for something, too?’ I asked. ‘Yes, Tom, but it’s a bit hard to explain. You see, my real name is actually Kitty, but Grandpa’s first cat was also called Kitty, so he changed it to “Kitty the second”. Then, a few years ago, I was chased and bitten in my leg by an awful cat. I can’t tell you how much that hurt. Since then they’ve called me Kitty Bit.’ ‘That doesn’t sound very good!’ I said. ‘No,’ the cat sighed, ‘but that’s not the end of the story. Soon after that horrible cat stopped chasing me, I got hit by a car one day while crossing the street. My hips and back were broken, and I thought I would never be able to climb trees again! After six weeks of resting, the vet finally let me go home, where Grandpa looked after me very lovingly. But now I’m paralysed from the waist down.’ ‘Really?’ I said. ‘Yes, when you look carefully, you’ll see that I can’t move my tail anymore; I’m just dragging it around.’ ‘How sad, Kit.’ ‘You could say so, but it’s not as bad as my other problem, which is that I can’t pee anymore!’ ‘Are you serious?’ ‘Of course I am. Grandpa has to empty my bladder twice a day in the kitchen sink. Obviously I’d much rather pee outside the house; to mark my territory!’ ‘Why you poor cat…!’ ‘That is what Grandpa felt too, so he started calling me Poor Mite instead!’ ‘Come here, Poor Mite, and I’ll give you a hug.’ ‘I really don’t feel sad anymore, Tom. Just call me Kit, or think of something else.’ The cat lay down next to me and I tickled her under the chin. ‘Can you do the same behind my ears please,’ she purred, ‘it feels really good.’ After a while she disappeared underneath the covers and placed herself at my feet. I wasn’t sure what she was doing down there until I felt her licking my toes. It tickled so badly that I had to pull up my legs. ‘Kit! Please stop! Why are you doing that?’ Slowly she crawled back up and buried herself between my arm and chest. Then, at exactly the same time, we both said together: ‘I think you’re sweet.’

The sun had come up and was revealing the golden red colours of Kit’s fur. ‘You look quite relaxed and happy, Kit,’ I said. ‘Why wouldn’t I be?’ the cat purred. ‘Well, you know, you can’t do certain things anymore.’ ‘That’s true, Tom, but my nose, ears and eyes are in perfect condition, which means I’m still able to enjoy a good game of “cat and mouse” every now and then!’ ‘Really?’ I said, ‘Did you hunt last night?’ ‘Yes, that’s when I’m awake for a few hours. Unfortunately there aren’t that many mice and birds around these days, but I always explore the fields behind the house, just to see if I’m lucky! Then, during the day, I dream of everything I couldn’t do at night. Dreaming is my favourite activity; I can’t get enough of it!’ ‘What do you dream about?’ Kit was staring dreamily in the distance, before looking at me again. ‘In my dreams I climb the highest trees, win fights with terrifying cats, jump over deep canyons, and catch hundreds of mice and birds. What about you, Tom?’ ‘I don’t know, Kit, I’m more into swimming and skiing, but I can’t ski around here; the mountains aren’t high enough!’ ‘You could try skiing in your dreams! If you do, you’ll be better at it next time you go down a real mountain.’ ‘Are you sure, Kit? Can I really decide what I’m going to be dreaming about?’ ‘I believe in it myself,’ Kit said wisely. ‘You can believe whatever you want, of course, but why don’t you try it?’ ‘Maybe you’re right,’ I said hesitantly. ‘Can you dream about dogs for example?’ Kit looked less than amused. ‘Let’s change the subject, please! I never dream about those despicable creatures, but, yes, I’m sure I could do it if I really wanted to.’ ‘So, how would you do it then?’ I continued. ‘Practice makes perfect. You have to do it over and over again, until it becomes second nature. When I wish to dream about a dog, I close my eyes and imagine a long and winding road. Looking in the distance I picture a large, healthy German Shepherd. As soon as he’s there in my mind’s eye, he starts rushing towards me. I wait until he gets closer, and, just before he tries to grab me, I quickly disappear among some prickly shrubs. There I keep quiet and wait, trying not to listen to his deafening barks. Every now and then he pushes his nose further into the bushes, hoping he can reach me, but the thorns hurt him too much, and so he has to retreat again. Finally, when he is getting tired, I wait for my chance and then bury my claws in his nose.’ While Kit was talking she suddenly stretched out one of her claws and scratched my arm. ‘Ouch!’ I squealed, ‘you’re mean!’ ‘Sorry Tom, I think I got carried away a bit. Let me lick it for you.’ ‘I appreciate the offer, Kit, but I think I’ll do it myself!’ ‘It just shows you how well this method works, Tom. Before you fall asleep, you think of something you’d like to dream about, and imagine it as well as you can. With time, you’ll start noticing that you’ve really dreamt about those things. It is very important to try to remember your dreams when you wake up. Think about what the dream means to you. Sometimes I dream about the past for example, which later helps me to explain it more. Other times my dreams help me shape the future.’ ‘Really?’ I said with surprise. ‘Yes indeed,’ Kit continued. ‘When I was staying with the vet, I was having a horrible time, so I tried dreaming that I could walk, jump and run again. As you can see now, I’m not doing so badly. I can’t run as fast as I used to, but my climbing is still excellent; even if I can’t use my tail anymore to balance myself.’ ‘That is very impressive!’ ‘Thank you Tom, and, talking of balance, I’ll go back down the tree now to let Grandpa empty my bladder!’

Kit disappeared through the window and I was alone again in my room. The cat had made me think about my dreams. Every now and then I remembered one of them, but perhaps I could try to dream more often. I liked the idea of having more adventures, and practicing things while being asleep. What would I like to dream about? What would be important to dream about? I often feel excited about so many different things. It seems too difficult to choose! Maybe I could ask Grandpa to pick something. I’m sure he would come up with a fantastic adventure. He has such a vivid imagination; he can tell you stories for hours! He claims we are very much alike, but I don’t notice anything just yet! What dreams do I want to realise during this weekend at Grandpa’s place? My mum used to have so many adventures around this house when she was young. She once lit a fire in the forest with her brothers, and Grandpa had to send in the fire fighters to put it out! I definitely want to visit the forest during the next few days! It will be fun to see if I can recognise anything from my mum’s stories. She has asked my grandpa to look after me while I’m staying with him. Ridiculous! I should be keeping an eye on him instead! I tried to keep thinking about my plans for the weekend, but couldn’t. My thoughts began to wander in unexpected directions. A dog tries to bite Poor Mite, but I scratch his nose. He howls so loudly that the windows crack. Moments later, the sound of shattering glass reaches my ears. Kit laughs, because now she can jump into the house without wearing her nappy. ‘Watch out Poor Mite! The dog is behind you!’ Grandpa tells her. The cat decides to jump onto the roof instead, meowing nervously. I want to comfort her and find myself flying towards her. I’m rising higher and higher, leaving the house below me. The feeling of floating through the air is amazing; I don’t want it to stop!

When I next opened my eyes, my room was even lighter. I realised I must have snoozed for a while and spent some time trying to remember my dream. It was then that I noticed a peculiar sofa across the room. I decided to get up and take a look at it. The sofa had two separate seats, and between them a stick and some buttons. One of them was red and looked like an alarm button. Should I try pressing it? Why not? It was probably a fake anyway! I sat down in one of the seats and moved my hand towards the button. Just before I was about to touch it, I hesitated. What if an alarm went off in Grandpa’s bedroom? Well, he was probably awake anyway - emptying Kit’s bladder or making breakfast! Still, I couldn’t possibly know what the button was for; anything could happen once I pressed it. I decided to use the buttons on my pyjama shirt to help me decide what to do. Yes, No, Yes, No, Yeeeeeees. The last one was yes, so I had to do it…. I quickly pressed the red button and waited. Nothing happened. I pressed again, and again. Still nothing. I kept on pushing the button repeatedly, and after a while the rhythm of my fingers started to match the rhythm of a song that was playing in my head. It was a song that Grandpa had taught me the night before. Suddenly I heard a low buzzing sound coming from the sofa. It worked! My grandpa had used his song as a code! I didn’t celebrate for very long, because the sofa had started to move. I got thrown to one side, but managed to hold onto the stick for support. If the sofa could move, perhaps I could steer it in a certain direction! When I pulled the stick towards me, the sofa slowly lifted off the ground. Typical Grandpa, creating a sofa that flies! The sofa kept on rising higher, and at first I really enjoyed it, but then I realised that I didn’t know how to stop it. When it got closer and closer to the ceiling, I quickly lay down and pushed the stick away from me, which took the sofa back to the ground. I played around with going up and down for a while, and then, in mid-air, I practiced flying in circles by shifting the stick to the left and right. I was very impressed with Grandpa’s creation, but shouldn’t there be a way to make it go backwards and forwards? I decided to try the other buttons, and eventually found the ones that did the trick. Now that I had some control over where the sofa was going, I felt ready to go outside. I carefully steered the sofa through my open window and circled around the house for a while. Looking down, I spotted Grandpa on his balcony. ‘Grandpa!’ I shouted, ‘I’m flying!’ ‘That’s great Tom! Have fun today! Oh, and when you get hungry, look in the space underneath your seat; I’ve prepared some sandwiches for you!’ I waved at him and took myself higher and higher. My dream had come true; I was flying!

The loyal geese

The sofa was flying along nicely and I was enjoying the wonderful views I had of everything below me. The huge trees surrounding Grandpa’s place now looked like cabbages in a field. Thinking about food, my stomach started to rumble, so I headed to the other side of the house, where I knew Grandpa had his orchard. The fruit trees looked like a pattern of dots from where I was, and as I lowered the sofa, the dots got larger and larger. I picked the largest one and steered towards it. When I got close enough to see the tree’s leaves, I braked for a soft landing in the canopy. With the sofa safely resting on some branches, I looked around to see what was on offer. I had expected the tree to be full of fruit, but all could see were beautiful blossoms. Bright, white blossoms with centres of pink. I realised it was still too early in the year for apples, so I decided to have Grandpa’s sandwiches instead. It tasted very good, especially with the blue sky and white blossoms surrounding me. Some of the petals were fluttering down, covering me like snowflakes. After I finished eating, I followed the petals down to the ground, and walked through the rest of the orchard.

When I reached the last trees before the fence, I noticed a shelter from which a large, grey goose appeared. It approached me with its neck extended and low to the ground, honking along the way. Right in front of me it stood up and hissed while spreading its wings. I got scared and walked backwards, not knowing if it would attack me. Luckily the goose retreated as well, so I relaxed and looked around. Next to the shelter I spotted a second goose on top of a large nest. She was obviously a female, incubating her eggs, so I realised that the first goose must have been a male trying to protect her from me! I decided to sit down and watch them quietly. When the geese were convinced that I wasn’t a threat, they calmed down as well. ‘Hello,’ the male goose honked after a while. ‘I don’t think I know you. What’s your name?’ I wasn’t at all surprised to understand him. Anything seemed possible at Grandpa’s place. ‘My name is Tom,’ I said. ‘What’s yours?’ ‘Kiri,’ he said, ‘and that is Nana over there,’ his beak pointing at the nesting goose. ‘Where are you from?’ Kiri asked. ‘I am visiting Grandpa for a weekend,’ I replied. ‘I’m his grandson.’ ‘Really?’ Kiri said, ‘we know Grandpa very well. He is a great friend of ours!’ ‘Yes indeed,’ Nana nodded in agreement. ‘Grandpa fixed my leg when it was broken. A few months ago I landed on it in an awkward way and afterwards I couldn’t put my weight on it anymore. Grandpa managed to catch me one day. I had no idea what was about to happen, but I soon realised that he was trying to help me by splinting my leg. Grandpa then built this shelter for me to recover in, and now I’m back in action, as you can see!’ ‘Well done!’ I said.

‘I should have been nesting in the Arctic Tundra though,’ Nana continued, ‘but my broken leg prevented us from flying there this spring. It’s usually fantastic up there; a warm sun just above the horizon, a few lakes here and there, lots of grass to eat, the humming sound of mosquitos, and no human beings, except for a few who stare at us and seem to think we’re very special!’ ‘I wish I would be one of those people!’ I joked. ‘It would be amazing to see so many birds together!’ ‘Yes indeed,’ Nana honked, ‘thousands of us are nesting together every year. It makes the whole experience very cosy and entertaining for us, and pretty safe as well, although sometimes we are chased by Arctic foxes. If it’s just a single fox the male geese can usually scare it away, but last year we were visited by a group of them, and they snatched all of my chicks,’ Nana choked. ‘I’m really sorry…,’ I said. ‘We decided to leave early,’ Kiri explained, ‘because we live down here during the winter months anyway; it’s much warmer than up North in the Tundra!’ ‘It may be warmer than in the Arctic, but I don’t think many people from around here would agree with you!’ I said. ‘A lot of us go even further south for the winter.’ ‘To nest?’ Nana asked. ‘No, we don’t need to nest! I came straight out of my mother’s belly, but I did spend a lot of time sleeping in a cot during the first few months.’ ‘A cot?’ ‘I guess you could see it as a kind of nest inside a house,’ I explained. ‘I see,’ Nana said. ‘When I’m lying in bed, I love watching the blue sky,’ I continued. ‘Quite often I see geese fly by in V-formation. It always looks so amazing; why do you fly like that?’ ‘It makes flying so much easier,’ Kiri said. ‘Each time we flap our wings we move quite a bit of air, which then pushes the bird behind us upwards, so together we can fly for a lot longer. That is very important on our long journeys, such as our trips to the Arctic and back, which are over a thousand miles.’ ‘Sometimes, during the night, I can’t see you fly over our house, but I still know you’re there because of your honking.’ ‘That’s right, Tom, it’s a way for us to keep in touch. As we always say, “One goose is no goose.” Without other geese we are nothing.’ ‘Don’t you get upset about that idea?’ I asked them. ‘No, not at all!’ they honked at the same time. ‘We love it!’

Nana had got up from her nest. I could count six large, white eggs. ‘They are hatching,’ she said. ‘You can take a closer look if you like, but be careful not to get too close. If the gosling sees you when it appears from it’s shell, it will start following you around, and that way you’ll become it’s mother! Grandpa made that mistake once, and he ended up sleeping and eating with all the goslings in tow! He said he enjoyed the experience, but I don’t think he was very happy at night, when the goslings would wake him up every hour! He managed to look after them until they were mature though,’ Nana said with admiration. ‘How do you know that the eggs are hatching at the moment Nana?’ ‘Well I have been sitting on them for a whole moon, which should be enough, and I can hear the goslings moving around inside, so they should be coming out very soon.’ ‘I don’t hear anything,’ I said. ‘Put your ear against this one,’ Nana honked. I listened carefully and understood what she was saying; soft peeping sounds and some rumbling and crackling reached my ear from inside the large, white egg. I put the egg down again, and shortly afterwards we saw a small opening appear at the base of it. ‘I think it’s time for you to move away now,’ Nana said. More and more tiny holes appeared, together forming a ring at the base of the egg. Then, suddenly, the piece of shell fringed by the small openings was pushed away and a new, young gosling appeared. ‘Do you see that pointed tip on its beak?’ Nana asked. ‘That is called an “egg-tooth”. As the gosling turned around inside the egg, it used the tooth to created a ring of tiny holes. Isn’t that impressive?’ ‘It’s amazing!’ I said. The gosling looked ugly and wet, with her feathers still stuck together. After a while she left the remainder of the shell and walked a few steps towards her mother. She rubbed against Nana and got rid of the sticky substance on her feathers. All of a sudden the small goose looked beautifully soft and fluffy, and seemed much larger than before. With her neck extended she greeted her mother for the first time: ‘PeepPeepPeepPeep.’ ‘HonkHonkHonkHonk,’ Nana replied. ‘Tom, I would like to introduce you to my new gosling,’ the new mother said proudly.

Soon afterwards, the other five goslings appeared from their eggs. All six of them were now crawling around the nest, and Nana decided it was time to settle in with them. The little ones calmed down slowly, and buried themselves among her feathers, peeping softly until they fell asleep. ‘Within a moon they will be almost as large as us,’ Kiri said. ‘That quickly?’ I said with surprise. ‘Yes, because if the frost arrives early in the Arctic Tundra, the young geese have to be strong enough to fly back to warmer areas like this. Since we didn’t travel to the Arctic this year, we will worry less about how quickly our brood grows.’ ‘And we don’t need to be afraid of foxes either!’ Nana added. ‘We know there are foxes hiding in the fields nearby, but Grandpa built a strong fence around this orchard,’ Kiri explained, ‘so I think we are well protected.’ ‘Let me just check if the fence is still intact,’ I said, and started walking along it. I couldn’t see any major damage, but at one point it was obviously bent, with reddish hairs sticking to the wire mesh. They could only be from a fox, I thought, and when I looked around, I saw one trotting nearby. It seemed to be chased by two black crows, and when the reddish-brown fox realised that I had spotted him, he raced away. ‘Leave those geese in peace!’ I shouted. ‘Their eggs have just hatched!’ ‘But those goslings are the best!’ the fox cried. ‘You’re not allowed to come here! Grandpa didn’t build this fence for nothing!’ ‘I don’t care for that Grandpa of yours,’ the fox growled. ‘These are my hunting grounds. My cubs are hungry, because at the moment we can only eat snails and beetles. Most of the rabbits are behind this fence of yours,’ he said while smacking his lips. ‘Maybe Grandpa will let you in next year, when the geese aren’t here,’ I offered. ‘That won’t help me now,’ the fox howled. ‘Please, please, let me in. I promise not to hurt the geese and their goslings.’ ‘Typical fox tricks,’ I thought, and decided to chase him away with some rocks. ‘Thank you, but I don’t like those very much,’ the fox sneered. I kept hurling stones, but the fox didn’t stop mocking me. ‘I wouldn’t bother with that, there are enough of those over here,’ he jeered. ‘Maybe you’d like to meet Grandpa’s dog,’ I shouted back. ‘I expect he’ll be here soon enough! It wasn’t true, but still seemed to do the trick, as the fox loped off through the grass.

When I returned to the nest, Nana was walking around with a string of goslings following her closely. Every now and then, one of them would get too far behind, only to race towards her with its wings spread widely and peeping frantically. ‘I was getting tired of sitting down,’ Nana explained. ‘Have you ever sat down for a whole moon, Tom?’ ‘No I haven’t, but we often spend half a day sitting down at school, which I think is far too much!’ ‘What do you mean by “school”,’ Kiri asked. ‘It’s a place we visit to learn all kinds of things,’ I explained. ‘Things like writing, algebra, geography, biology … you know?’ ‘We’ve no idea what you’re talking about,’ the geese said. ‘Well, writing, for example, is like talking on a paper surface or a screen, and algebra can be used to count goslings. In geography class we learn where the Arctic Tundra is, and because of biology I know that geese are related to swans and ducks.’ I thought that I had explained it quite well, and the geese seemed to agree. ‘Oh, we don’t need to go to school then,’ they exclaimed. ‘We learn everything from each other!’ ‘Really?’ I said. ‘Can you count your goslings?’ ‘Of course we can!’ the geese replied. ‘One … two … many…. There! You see? You probably didn’t expect that … did you?’ I was indeed surprised. ‘But what do you do during the day then, if you don’t go to school?’ I wanted to know. ‘We spend a lot of time eating grass,’ they explained. ‘We digest it while we sleep, but we also find time to fly around and enjoy the views.’ ‘People seem to be a lot less relaxed than geese,’ I said. ‘I wish I could be a goose for a while!’ ‘Or a gander, perhaps?’ Kiri joked. ‘Sure! A gander would be good too!’

‘Would you like to live with us Tom?’ Kiri proposed. ‘It would be very cosy, the three of us together, and you’d be able to protect us at the same time.’ ‘It sounds attractive Kiri, but I already have a home.’ ‘Ah, of course! You’re living with Grandpa!’ ‘Well, at the moment I am, yes, but the rest of the year I’m living with my parents.’ ‘So you’re still a bit of a gosling yourself then!’ the geese honked. ‘I suppose you might put it that way!’ I smiled. ‘Perhaps you’d like to live with us instead,’ I suggested. ‘Do you like people?’ ‘If your parents are as nice as Grandpa and yourself, we’d be happy to join you Tom! The problem is that a lot of people are really nasty to us.’ ‘Go on…,’ I said. ‘It’s an extremely hard topic for us to talk about. The things people do to us are just incredibly horrible. Some tame geese, for example, are kept in tiny cages and force-fed until their livers become very enlarged. People will then eat those livers. Do you eat goose liver Tom?’ ‘Not that I’m aware of Kiri.’ ‘Other geese are kept for their soft, warm down feathers; sometimes they are even plucked alive! Isn’t that a form of abuse, Tom? And that’s just the start of it,’ Kiri continued sadly. ‘In the past, tame geese would be hung upside down with their feet bound together. People would walk by with wooden sticks, trying to knock their heads off! They thought it was a fun game to play!’ ‘Really?’ I said embarrassedly. ‘Yes, I’m afraid so, and wild geese like us aren’t safe either. When we arrive in these parts of the world, exhausted by our long flight back from the Arctic, we are often ambushed by hunters. They shoot at us with lots of tiny bullets, which will kill some geese in flight and hurt many others, leaving them full of metal. You may think it would be safer for us to live with people who would look after us, and who would appreciate us for protecting their property and eating their weeds, but at the end of the day….’ ‘What do you mean,’ Kiri? ‘At the end of the day, they still see us as food, so we’ve decided to live wild and free, even if it is dangerous,’ Kiri explained.

‘How long do wild geese live for, Kiri?’ I asked after a while. ‘We often live for thirty years, but that’s only if we don’t become seriously ill, hit wires and windmills with our wings, or get killed by hunters. And if we’re lucky, we can live to be fifty years old.’ ‘That old?’ I said with surprise. ‘It’s not as old as Grandpa is, but much older than I thought! If you know that you’ll live that long, what would you like to do during the rest of your life? What would be the most precious thing that you could want for your future?’ ‘Staying together until we’re separated by death,’ the geese honked in tune. ‘Loyalty to each other is the thing we value most,’ they explained. ‘Is that really true?’ I asked. ‘I know that when people marry, they promise to be loyal to each other for the rest of their lives, but I don’t think everyone keeps that promise.’ ‘We’re not joking Tom,’ Kiri said softly. ‘I used to be a couple with Zaza. Two years ago, I lost her when she was shot by a hunter. The sadness I felt was terrible, and I can’t remember feeling anything else for a year. Do you understand now why it is so cruel to kill a goose that is part of a couple? It’s especially cruel when two geese have been together for a long time. Luckily I met Nana a year after Zaza died, and now I wish to be with her for as long as possible.’ ‘And I with him!’ Nana added with feeling. ‘But what happens to the geese who aren’t in a couple?’ I wondered. ‘They group together until they find a partner,’ Nana explained. ‘Sometimes there are ganders who wish to form a couple with another male, or two ganders who are together with one female, but all of these partners are loyal to each other.’ ‘And we also support each other during injury and sickness,’ Kiri continued. ‘That’s why I’m here with Nana this summer, rather than in the Arctic.’ ‘It sounds like you are extremely loyal to Grandpa’s orchard as well!’ I joked. ‘Yes, we are!’ the geese honked. ‘And to our shelter too! Talking of which,’ Kiri said ‘I think it’s time for our snooze….’ I watched Nana and the goslings climb onto the nest again, and Kiri disappear into the shelter. After I had waved goodbye I headed back to the flying sofa, which was still hanging suspended in the apple tree.

The surprising dove

Walking towards the apple tree I was pleased to see that the sky was still blue. It was a beautiful day for flying. I climbed my way up to the flying sofa, and was happy and excited to be back on my seat. Suddenly I heard a restless fluttering sound above me. When I looked up, I saw a dove sitting on one of the branches nearby. It seemed to be eating the apple tree’s blossoms! Moments later I felt something hitting my leg with a cold splash; bird shit! ‘Can’t you be more careful!’ I shouted at the dove. ‘There is nothing wrong with my poop,’ he assured me. ‘Plants love it; it makes them grow really well!’ ‘That doesn’t apply to me,’ I said angrily while trying to wipe it off my leg with some leaves. ‘I find it disgusting!’ ‘Why did you place yourself underneath me then?’ the dove cooed. ‘I always make sure that I am aware of my surroundings; it will save my life one day.’ ‘Why?’ ‘It will keep me aware of all kinds of dangers; the birds of prey circling above me, the branches and windows alongside me, and the cats and people below me.’ ‘Can’t you see that I am a human being myself?’ ‘Yes, I can see that, but luckily you’re not very big yet.’ ‘Why don’t you come over here for a chat then,’ I suggested. ‘That would be great. I have been flying for miles and I could do with a break.’

The dove landed on the seat next to mine and introduced himself as ‘Napoleon’. I offered him some breadcrumbs from a sandwich that I had left over from breakfast. ‘Delicious!’ Napoleon said after devouring them all. ‘Now I can fly the remaining 200 miles home. I can’t wait to see my partner, because we would love to start building our nest soon!’ ‘Why are you flying such long distances, Napoleon?’ ‘It’s in my genes, I think. My ancestors used to be carrier pigeons, which meant that they delivered messages to people. Sometimes they would even go across enemy lines, risking their lives to take mail to the other side.’ ‘Really?’ ‘Yes, but these days people use us for long-distance racing. Yesterday morning for example, several other pigeons and I were dropped off over 800 miles from our homes, and now we’re trying to find out who will make it back first. I have to say that I’m quite good at winning, and my father, Caesar, was the same. This time won’t be any different I expect, although I’m a bit worried about Nelson, who is my biggest rival.’ ‘That sounds fascinating,’ I said, ‘but how can you possibly fly in the right direction for 800 miles without any instruments to guide you?’ ‘It’s not difficult at all,’ Napoleon explained. ‘I first circle around for a while. That way I can locate the sun and see the patterns of its polarised light. At the same time I also sense the Earth’s magnetic field. Together they give me my sense of direction.’ ‘Like a compass?’ ‘You can call it whatever you like.’ the dove said. ‘Is that enough to take you home?’ ‘It also helps to have landmarks, such as mountains, rivers and roads,’ the dove continued, ‘and at night I use “skymarks”, such as the moon and the stars. But that’s not all. Changes in gravity, sound and light can be helpful as well; I seem to pick it all up automatically.’ ‘That sounds amazing, Napoleon! I don’t think I have your sense of direction!’ ‘I’m sure you must have some of it,’ the dove said, ‘because so many creatures do!’ ‘Do you always find your way back?’ I wondered. ‘So far things have gone well, but I wouldn’t recommend flying in a storm, because lightning can create magnetic fields which confuse our sense of direction; many birds get lost that way.’ ‘Well, I don’t think I will be flying during storms anyway,’ I said. I can think of much nicer things to do than getting hit by lightning!’ ‘Me too,’ the dove said. ‘Like what?’ ‘Oh, I love flying in flocks,’ Napoleon beamed. ‘We feel like one when we move that way. The larger the flock, the faster we dance with each other. When we fly on the outside, we can get the whole flock to follow our movements; it’s a most amazing feeling when that happens.’

‘How about yourself?’ the dove asked. ‘I wish I’d play and dance more often,’ I admitted. ‘Well, nobody is stopping you!’ ‘Yes, I guess you’re right, but my friends aren’t always in the same mood!’ ‘Why don’t you try to tempt them?’ ‘Good idea, Napoleon! Would you like to see me dance?’ ‘Do you mean here, on the sofa???’ ‘No, silly! Down on the grass below us!!!’ We were about to leave the sofa, when Napoleon paused and looked up. I followed his gaze to a bird of prey that was circling above us. ‘I’m going to keep quiet until it’s gone,’ Napoleon whispered. The bird of prey came closer. ‘I think it has spotted me,’ the dove said worriedly. ‘Relax Napoleon, I’ll get rid of it.’ The hawk dived toward us and skimmed the top of my head. Napoleon buried his head between his wings. I tried to find something to defend him with, and ripped a branch off the apple tree. The hawk approached us again, but this time I wielded my stick and the bird changed its course, landing on a branch nearby. Its shiny, beady eyes examined me. ‘What are you doing here?’ he said raspily. ‘Let me eat my lunch.’ ‘Get out of here!’ I shouted. ‘How do you dare to hunt such an innocent dove?’ ‘Ha ha!’ the hawk said mockingly. ‘Innocent dove? What a joke! Maybe you should take a look at how doves treat one another. They would destroy each other given half a chance!’ The hawk remained seated and glanced at Napoleon before catching my eyes again. ‘Ask him yourself.’ ‘Napoleon?’ ‘Well, hmm,’ Napoleon volunteered. ‘It’s hard to explain, but when I fight, I can’t really stop. When it happens in the dovecote, and my enemy can’t escape, I turn into a killer.’ ‘You see,’ the hawk said triumphantly, ‘this dove is not as innocent as he appears to be. I think it would be better to devour him and prevent him from harming other doves in the future!’ ‘That’s enough! You’re preying on other birds yourself!’ ‘Yes I know, but without birds of prey, the number of doves would rise and rise; our presence helps to keep things stable.’ ‘Who says that the number of doves needs to be stable?’ I said. ‘The number of people is rising too, and we’re quite happy not to be preyed on by anything at the moment.’ ‘Well, that’s just the way I look at it,’ the hawk said raspily. ‘I am in balance with my prey. Maybe people are balanced with something else.’ ‘Like what?’ ‘With their food sources perhaps, or with diseases.’ ‘Like a predator?’ ‘Like anything that is alive.’

I was pondering what the hawk had said, and thought he might possibly be right. As long as there is ever more food, and not too many harmful viruses and bacteria, the number of people can rise. But at some point, the number of people will probably become stable. When I looked back at the hawk, I noticed he had started to clean himself. ‘I’m not in a hurry,’ the hawk said. I leaned over to Napoleon and whispered: ‘As long as you’re here with me, you’ll be safe.’ The dove stopped shaking and looked a bit calmer. ‘Tell me more about this fighting of yours,’ I prodded him. ‘Well, basically we fight to the death,’ he explained. ‘We just go on and on, pecking at the base of each other’s heads, fatally wounding the neck and back. I sometimes wish I’d have a larger beak, so that I’d be able to do more damage more quickly.’ I was shocked. Nobody had ever told me this about doves before. ‘Are you sure, Napoleon, that it’s not just you who acts and thinks like that?’ ‘Absolutely,’ he continued, ‘it is the same for all of us. We have no inhibitions on that front.’ ‘Not even when your opponent begs for mercy?’ I insisted, knowing that some birds withdraw and show the top of their head as a sign of submission. ‘No, we don’t know mercy,’ he explained. ‘All we can do is try to flee from each other.’ Napoleon had become restless, but the hawk was still there, and fleeing was not an option in this case.

‘To us, doves are a symbol of peace,’ I continued. ‘Peace?’ ‘Yes, of living together without fighting, according to rules that we’ve all agreed on. People who don’t follow those rules are separated from the rest.’ ‘In a pen?’ ‘Yes, something like that,’ I nodded. ‘Well, doves do fight,’ Napoleon declared, ‘so I have no idea why you seem to think that they are always peaceful. Is peace highly estimated by people?’ ‘Hmm, yes, but we don’t work too hard to realise it, I’m afraid. We aspire to live in peace, but we’re not really all that good at it.’ ‘Just like doves then?’ ‘It’s a bit more complex than that. Some people do indeed get involved in war and torture and killing each other, but many others try to maintain peace.’ ‘How is peace created?’ Napoleon wondered. ‘I don’t know too much about it myself,’ I admitted. ‘Grandpa once explained to me that it requires self-control. He said that we need to learn this when we’re young, and that without restraint, peace is impossible.’ ‘That seems too challenging,’ Napoleon remarked. ‘I’m very glad that I’m not a human being. I prefer the clarity of our way of living; fighting until the end.’ ‘Maybe it’s hard to maintain,’ I said defensively, ‘but peace sounds beautiful to me.’ ‘Well, there is no peace here,’ Napoleon concluded while looking at the hawk, who was patiently waiting for his meal. The hawk perked up and said: ‘I bet you that you will be too late.’ ‘What do you mean?’ ‘You should have continued your journey a long time ago; by now the other doves will be miles ahead of you!’ Napoleon turned his head. He was getting nervous. ‘Don’t listen to him!’ I warned. ‘He’s just trying to wind you up.’ Napoleon relaxed again and started cleaning his wings.

Just when we thought it would never happen, the hawk flew away. It took me a while to realise that he had spotted a hare in the field nearby. ‘I need to leave now!’ Napoleon said excitedly. ‘Wait! Let me give you a head start! I offered. I started the engine as quickly as possible, and accelerated fast enough to free the sofa from the apple tree. Within moments we were flying. ‘Wonderful,’ Napoleon said, ‘I’m glad to see that the hawk is still busy trying to catch that hare.’ I looked up and saw the bird of prey high above us. ‘Wait a bit longer before you take off Napoleon,’ I urged him. ‘Yes, but not too long; I need to catch up on all the time I’ve lost.’ ‘Indeed!’ we heard behind us. ‘That’s Nelson!’ Napoleon shrieked. ‘And he’s flying faster than we do!’ ‘You’re playing foul!’ Nelson shouted at Napoleon. ‘Don’t think you’ll get away with this assisted flying trick of yours!’ ‘Please calm down, Nelson.’ I pleaded. ‘Napoleon got held up because of me; he was way ahead of you, and his break gave you the chance to catch up. We’ve hardly moved from the apple tree where we were chatting. If I let Napoleon get off the sofa now, it should still be a fair race.’ As soon as I had said that, a shadow moved across Nelson. Then I felt a gust of air and saw the hawk catch Nelson in flight, his nails digging deeply into the dove’s body before disappearing from sight. ‘I’ve a feeling this is going to be my lucky day!!’ sang Napoleon exuberantly while flying off in another direction. ‘I can see where your priorities lie!’ I shouted at him disgustedly. ‘Yes indeed!’ he responded. ‘I live to win! My life would be nothing without victory!’

I decided to turn the sofa around and follow the hawk’s course to see if I could save Nelson. The hawk had landed on his nest, which was high up in a tall tree near Grandpa’s house. When I got closer, I saw three chicks eagerly swallowing bits of the dove that the hawk had been tearing to pieces. I felt myself getting angry. Should I destroy this pigeon-killing bird by landing the sofa on his nest? I looked at the chicks again and stopped myself, feeling too much sympathy for the little birds. And, besides, I suddenly remembered that some people eat pigeons too, so I had no reason to get angry at the hawk. ‘You’re disturbing my chicks with all that noise,’ the hawk rasped throatily. ‘OK, OK, I promise I’ll leave, but I don’t want you to get anywhere near the goslings!’ ‘Don’t worry, they’re far too well protected by this Grandpa of yours, and the geese are always keeping an eye out for me.’ ‘If you try anything, I’ll be back here.’ I warned him. ‘Oh how brave you are today!’ he said mockingly. I steered the sofa away from the tree and circled up to greater heights. Finally I took the time to just sit back and enjoy the beautiful landscape of clouds. It was wonderfully peaceful, especially when flying with the wind, as there was hardly any sound at all.

The anxious hare

Flying high up in the sky, surrounded by clouds, was putting me at ease. After a while I became curious again to discover what was going on beneath those layers of hazy whiteness, so I slowly descended until I could recognise where I was. The meadow below me was not too far from Grandpa’s place, and I decided to stop for a break in the grass. As I got closer to the ground I noticed a large hare running frantically to get away from the sofa. I followed his chaotic path until he suddenly jumped and disappeared from my view. Wondering what had happened, I quickly landed the sofa and slowly walked towards the spot where I had last seen a sign of the animal. He couldn’t have evaporated into thin air, could he? I gave up and sat down on the tall grass, staring lazily into the distance. Then, without trying, I saw two oval shapes among the green blades ahead of me. ‘Hello hare,’ I said softly. No response. ‘My name is Tom,’ I continued. The ears moved slightly and I felt encouraged. ‘I am Grandpa’s grandson.’ This did the trick, as the hare raised its head above the grass and looked at me. ‘I think I know your Grandpa,’ the hair said excitedly. ‘He is the one who always feeds me cabbage leaves!’ ‘You must love cabbage a lot.’ ‘Oh yes. Did you bring some leaves by any chance?’ ‘Unfortunately I didn’t,’ I admitted, ‘but I might get you some later.’

The hare hopped towards me, and I could now see how tall it was - almost half a meter! He was also more colourful than I had expected, with reddish brown hair on top and greyish white tufts below. ‘You look quite beautiful,’ I said. ‘Thank you, but I’m not too pleased with that, because the hunters seem to think the same! By the way, you really scared me just now. You looked like a huge bird of prey when you were flying right above me.’ ‘I’m really sorry, but I thought it would be great to chat with you!’ I said. ‘Did you know that I have a stuffed toy hare at home? He keeps me company at night.’ ‘Oh, that’s nice,’ the hare said. ‘So, I can trust you then.’ ‘Of course you can!’ I exclaimed. The hare looked around nervously, with its ears twitching restlessly. ‘You don’t seem to be very relaxed,’ I said. ‘You’re right, Tom. I constantly have to be alert, especially when I’m sitting upright like this. Could you protect me for a while?’ ‘Sure, don’t worry!’ I tried to think of something to distract the hare. ‘What’s your name? I asked. ‘Zara.’ ‘Do you live with someone else?’ ‘Yes, with my three young. Would you like to see them? If so, come along and follow me.’

The hare hopped away and disappeared underneath some shrubs at the edge of the meadow. I followed her there and lifted some branches up to discover a shallow nest with four tiny little hares. ‘How long will they be with you, Zara?’ ‘Only for a few days,’ the hare explained. ‘When I see how fast they’re running around, I think that they’ll be able to look after themselves very soon.’ ‘Really?’ I said with amazement. ‘Yes indeed, but I’m never alone for too long; I usually have several litters a year!’ ‘With your partner?’ Zara laughed. ‘Every now and then, when I don’t have any young to look after, I’m chased by the males. Sometimes, especially in spring, it can get too much for me though, and when that happens I just turn around and strike them with my paws! That way they leave me alone for a little while, which is good, because life gets very busy with little ones around. At night I need to feed them, and during the day I try to lure possible attackers away from them. But all that comes on top of having to eat a lot. Right now I enjoy eating the grass in this meadow, and the juicy roots and tubers of various plants, but in winter there’s not very much to find, so then I tend to chew on the bark and the softest young branches of trees.’ ‘I imagine your teeth must get damaged from chewing all those plants!’ ‘Yes indeed! But they never stop growing, so it’s not a problem for me,’ the hare explained. ‘I can just keep eating and eating! ‘Is that why I see so many droppings around here?’ I joked. ‘Many?’ the hare said. ‘I thought I was doing so well! During the day I do indeed leave quite a few droppings, but the ones I produce at night are different; they are very nutritious and essential for my diet, so I eat them as soon as I make them. You see, there aren’t as many as there could be!’

Our conversation finished abruptly. Zara became very nervous again, and I could see her ears moving restlessly. ‘I can hear strange sounds and feel the ground vibrating,’ she whispered. ‘Someone’s coming.’ I dropped the branches of the shrubs that covered Zara and her young and quickly walked back to the sofa. ‘Hello there,’ a heavy voice sounded behind me. ‘Are you taking a break?’ ‘I turned around and saw a man dressed in greenish clothes and carrying a shotgun. ‘Yes,’ I said, noticing my throat had become dry. ‘Nice sofa you have there,’ he said admiringly. ‘It looks state-of-the-art. Tell me, how fast does it go on a meadow like this?’ ‘It doesn’t have wheels.’ I explained. ‘It can only fly.’ ‘You have a vivid imagination!’ the hunter laughed. ‘Listen,’ he continued more seriously. ‘Have you seen a hare around here recently?’ ‘A ha…ha…hare?’ I stammered. ‘Are you sure they live around here?’ ‘Oh yes,’ the hunter said with confidence. ‘I have been trying to catch one for days! The last time I saw it, it disappeared around those shrubs over there.’

The hunter slowly walked towards the bushes, pointing his shotgun in the same direction. I panicked. Could I do something to protect Zara and help her escape? I watched in horror as the hunter disturbed some branches, narrowly missing Zara’s nest. Nothing happened. ‘No luck today,’ he said disappointedly, and walked back towards me. ‘There are lots of hare droppings near those shrubs,’ he reported, ‘so the animal must be around here somewhere.’ My mind was racing, trying to find a way to keep the hunter away from Zara’s spot. ‘I remember seeing a fox this morning,’ I tried. ‘I was in the orchard when he trotted by. What if he was going after that hare?’ ‘A fox!’ the hunter exclaimed. ‘Oh, that would be awful! I was so looking forward to some hare stew this evening….’ ‘Yes, me too,’ I said. ‘I mean, I’m looking forward to spending time with my own hare again this evening.’ ‘A real hare?’ the hunter asked. ‘No, no, it’s a toy hare that I keep in my bed. But sometimes my Mom thinks there is someone in my room, because I like talking to it!’ ‘You have to be careful with that,’ the hunter warned. ‘People soon think you’re crazy! These days I try to pretend that I’m on the phone, so that it’s less obvious that I’m just talking to myself!’ We both laughed, and I felt myself relax a bit. ‘Well, my friend,’ the hunter said, ‘I need to get going. Have a fun afternoon on your sofa.’ He waved at me and quickly became invisible – blending back into the green background.

A few moments later, Zara re-appeared. ‘Will he come back?’ she asked worriedly. ‘I don’t think so, Zara, but it was quite scary there for a while. How did you manage not to be recognised by him?’ ‘Oh, I didn’t do anything special; I tried to lie flat on the ground without moving. My fur often resembles the soil and older leaves around me, so that’s why he probably overlooked me.’ ‘Well done!’ ‘Thank you! It was very hard to remain still; when he pulled those branches I almost started shaking!’ ‘Well, I am really glad that you had time to find a good hiding place, because I wasn’t aware of anything at all when you heard him coming!’ ‘Well, our hearing is pretty good, and as soon as we sense danger we try to warn other hares, just like I warned you then. If you’d been a hare, I would have grated my teeth, or pounded the ground with my hind legs. Sometimes, being able to hear well is not enough. When my camouflage doesn’t protect me, and I think I am spotted by whatever is hunting me, then I’m glad that we can run pretty well too! You saw some of that when you were following me with your sofa! ‘Yes indeed!’ I said. ‘What exactly were you doing, Zara?’ ‘Our specialty is to make very sharp turns, and to jump in such a way that it seems like our track suddenly stops. Sometimes we even rush backwards and then go off into another direction, just to confuse anyone tracking us.’ ‘That sounds quite enervating!’ ‘I can’t help it,’ the hare said, ‘I can’t rest for too long – without my fear I wouldn’t be alive!’

‘Would you be interested in a few cabbage leaves?’ I asked her. ‘It might help you to recover a bit.’ ‘You don’t need to ask that!’ the hare said excitedly. ‘Come on then. Jump on the sofa with me, and I’ll take you to Grandpa’s vegetable garden.’ As we ascended, Zara looked both anxious and excited. ‘I can’t believe how high we are,’ she said with a tremble in her voice. ‘Don’t worry, Zara, we’ll be there soon enough!’ A few minutes later I landed the sofa gently in the garden. Before I realised it, Zara had jumped off the sofa and disappeared among the cabbages. I could see her racing around, from one cabbage to another, ecstatic with joy. This was not the scene I had imagined. ‘Zara! Stop! You can’t eat more than one cabbage!’ I shouted at her. Zara’s hearing suddenly seemed to have failed her, as she didn’t respond to me at all. When I tried to catch her she rushed left and right, leading me a merry dance. All I could do was wait until she had finished eating. When she finally returned to the sofa, having sampled almost all of the cabbages, I felt cheated. ‘Why did you do that, Zara? How am I going to explain this to Grandpa???’ Just as I had said that, I heard his voice calling me. I quickly grabbed Zara by her neck, and put her on the other side of the fence. Grandpa approached me looking worried. ‘Why didn’t you answer, Tom? Is everything alright?’ I didn’t say anything. Grandpa looked at the sofa, which was fine, and then at the garden. ‘What happened to the cabbages, Tom?’ It looks like they’ve been ravaged by hares!’ Grandpa checked the fence, but couldn’t find any holes or other damage. ‘Do you know anything about this Tom?’ ‘Well, no, hmmm, yes,’ I stammered. ‘I wanted to feed my friend a few cabbage leaves, and….’ ‘I see,’ Grandpa laughed. ‘I hope you won’t underestimate those hares again! Let’s go and get something to eat ourselves!’

The strange tree stump

Grandpa had cooked a delicious meal with fresh ingredients from his vegetable garden. ‘This might be the last time I’ll eat cabbage this year!’ he joked. ‘I’m really sorry,’ I said. ‘I promise I won’t invite any other hares into your garden! But aside from the cabbages, how was your day, Grandpa?’ ‘Well, not too good, actually. I went for a walk in the forest and discovered that my favourite tree had been cut down; there was only a stump left.’ ‘Had the tree been sick?’ ‘No, not at all, it was perfectly fine - one of the tallest in the area. Anyway, I sat down on the stump to think a bit, and realised that maybe it would be a great place for you to go camping tonight.’ ‘Are you serious, Grandpa?’ I said excitedly. ‘Yes, I’ve got a nice tent upstairs that you could use, and it shouldn’t be too difficult to get it out there if you load it on the sofa.’ ‘Great idea, Grandpa! But how will I find the spot that you’re talking about?’ ‘Here, I’ll put the coordinates in your phone. Just follow the route that it shows you.’ ‘Thank you!’ I’ll be back tomorrow for dinner!’ ‘Remember, Tom, fires are not allowed, so take some sandwiches with you for when you get hungry!’ ‘Alright Grandpa!’ I said with a smile on my face, ‘I promise you won’t need to send in those firefighters again!’

I ran around the house to collect everything I needed and said goodnight to Grandpa. When I returned to my room, I opened the window and realised that it was still light, but probably not for long. I quickly started up the sofa and left the house, following the route shown on my phone. ‘I’m flying!’ something meowed next to me. It was Kit, who had fallen asleep among all the gear I had stored on the sofa. ‘Isn’t it amazing?’ I said. The cat slowly made its way to where I was seated and lay down next me. As the earth turned away from the sun, we watched the colours in the sky change from yellows to reds. My phone’s directions were excellent, and I soon landed the sofa next to the stump that Grandpa had described. The light was disappearing, so I put up the tent and crawled into bed. My sleeping bag was nice and warm, and I decided to read a book that I had saved on my phone. Every now and then I stopped reading to listen to the sounds outside. The rustling trees seemed to whisper that the wind had picked up a bit.

Something hit the tent - maybe a pinecone from last year, I thought. I continued reading my book until I was interrupted by a loud, howling whistle. I knew that I had never heard this before, and felt myself getting tense. There it was again, and, this time, a bit closer to the tent: ‘Whoo hooooooo.’ I listened intently for several minutes, but the howling didn’t recur. Instead I heard a soft ‘Peep-Peep-Peep’ followed by loud smacking. What could it be? I didn’t believe in ghosts, but what if they existed after all? At home I sometimes checked the space underneath my bed, just to be sure…. I could call Grandpa, but I didn’t want to wake him up for something silly…. Maybe I could go outside and find out? But what if it was something aggressive? It seemed safer to stay inside. I went back to reading my book, but it wasn’t quiet for long. Something was moving along the base of the tent, rustling the fabric and snuffling softly. The howling also returned: ‘Whoo hooooooo, Whoo hooooooo.’ I was very scared, but I didn’t want to wait until these creatures attacked me in my tent; perhaps if I scared them, I would be saved. My hands were shaking as I unzipped the front door. Kit rushed passed me and disappeared into the darkness in front of me. I jumped out after her, frantically waving my phone as a torch and shouting loudly.

After a while I stopped. There had been no response, and nothing had landed on top of me. I couldn’t resist finding out what had caused the rustling and sniffling sounds that I had heard earlier. My hands were still trembling as I slowly moved the beam of light along the side of the tent. I was expecting to find something frightening when, near the far corner, I saw a small, spiny ball. It was a rolled-up hedgehog! I couldn’t believe how silly I had been, and started laughing uncontrollably. I was about to crawl back into my warm sleeping bag when another round of loud howling surprised me. The sounds seemed to come from the trees. By now I had lost some of my fear and directed my torch at the tree canopy ahead of me. As I moved the beam of light along the leafy crowns, two eyes suddenly lit up, startling me. It felt strange to realise that I was being watched, but I was glad to find out that the eyes belonged to a harmless owl. ‘Could you please turn that light off?’ the owl said with a shrill voice. ‘I can’t see anything anymore.’ ‘You mean, you can’t spy on me anymore!’ I laughed. ‘I don’t know what is so funny about that!’ the owl grumbled. ‘These are my hunting grounds, you know, and you’ve invaded them. I’ve got a right to keep track of your every move and scare you away if I want!’ ‘I wasn’t scared at all!’ ‘Oh really? You were trembling when you got out of your tent a few minutes ago!’ ‘Well OK, a little bit perhaps,’ I admitted. ‘I knew I could trust my eyes!’ the owl said. ‘I also noticed that you discovered the hedgehog over there.’ ‘Yes indeed. I was amazed to find a hedgehog, because I didn’t know that they make such funny sounds.’ ‘Funny sounds?’ the owl grumbled. ‘Do you mean that smacking? Your sense of humour is getting worse and worse! He smacked because he was devouring the juicy mouse I was after!’ ‘It was delicious!’ the hedgehog peeped. ‘Oh I can’t stand such lowly behaviour,’ the owl moaned. ‘Easy now!’ the hedgehog warned as he unrolled himself and wandered off. As I watched the hedgehog move away from my tent, I started to feel very tired. ‘It’s nice to meet you, Owl, but I think I should get some sleep now.’ ‘Please do,’ the owl said. ‘I can’t wait for another mouse to show up.’ I glanced up at the starry sky above me, and got back into my tent.

I had no recollection of drifting off to sleep at all when I awoke at dawn to a wonderful chorus of birds. I snoozed for ten more minutes and then opened my door to listen to the remainder of the concert. When it finished, the birds made their way to the ground, seemingly looking for something to eat. This reminded me that I had packed some sandwiches for breakfast, and I decided to enjoy them lying in bed, looking out at the many different kinds of birds in front of me. Then it was time to get ready for the day. I got dressed, dismantled the tent, and put all my gear back on the sofa. While I was getting everything secured, my plastic sandwich bag dropped to the ground. One of the sandwiches had escaped, and rather than having it for lunch, I though it might be nice to feed it to the birds. I jumped onto the tree stump in the middle of the cleared space, and nearly lost my balance. ‘Be careful!’ the tree trunk said. ‘Balance is very important. My life has been all about balance - the balance between my roots and my crown, between the power of a storm and the shape, strength and flexibility of my branches, between my environment and my yearly growth. If you don’t understand what I’m talking about, please take a look at my growth rings!’ I got off the stump and kneeled down next to it. ‘Some rings are more narrow than others,’ I said. ‘That’s right,’ the stump said. ‘During those years it may have been too cold or too hot, too dry or too wet for me to grow well. I was quite good at striking the right balance every year. Over time I became one of the tallest trees in this forest. People looked up to me, children played around my trunk, squirrels ran and jumped along my branches, birds made their nests in my crown, but now…,’ he choked, ‘now … I’m just a stump!’

‘You’re really suffering,’ I said, watching tears flow down his roots. ‘My sap can’t go up to my crown anymore,’ the stump explained. ‘All I can do is cry.’ ‘Why were you cut down?’ I asked softly. ‘They don’t like my kind of tree.’ ‘What do you mean?’ I asked. ‘They don’t want my species to grow in this forest.’ ‘But you said that you had been doing so well!’ I said with surprise. ‘Yes, I had been, but they don’t want “exotic trees” like me. ‘Exotic?’ ‘Exotic in the sense that I’m not originally from this area. About a hundred and fifty years ago, I developed as a seed on another continent, but before I fell to the ground and germinated, I was collected and taken across the world to be planted in this forest, together with some of my relatives.’ ‘They must have liked you a lot if they went through so much trouble to plant you here!’ ‘Yes, I think so,’ the stump sighed. ‘But these days people believe that, because we weren’t here a hundred and fifty years ago, we shouldn’t be here now. The people looking after this forest don’t seem to realise that throughout the Earth’s history, landscapes have always changed.’ ‘How is that?’ I said. ‘Have you ever heard about the ice ages?’ the stump asked. ‘Yes of course,’ I said. ‘Very good,’ the stump continued. ‘In that case you might remember that this area was once covered by hundreds of metres of ice. The thick layer of ice prevented anything from growing. When the ice began to melt, the vegetation gradually returned, with seeds being carried here by water or wind, even by animals. Some of the first plants to return were mosses, lichens and grasses, and later on they were joined by shrubs, and by dwarf trees such as the birch. The landscape had become a tundra.’ ‘Like the tundra near the North pole!’ I said. ‘Yes, quite similar,’ the stump continued. ‘And since that time, it has changed to the forest you see here today, which includes tree species that weren’t yet present in the tundra. That’s why I like to think that, in essence, we are all “exotics”. The region covered by any particular plant changes slowly but constantly through time, whether by cooling or warming.’ ‘I didn’t know that,’ I admitted. ‘That’s understandable,’ the stump explained. ‘The landscape changes so slowly that it is difficult to detect this change during our lifetimes.’ ‘How come you know all this then?’ I asked him. ‘I’ve had many long conversations with my friend over there,’ the stump said while speaking in the direction of a large, smooth rock.

‘I was living up North before the last ice age,’ the rock said wisely. ‘But then the ice took me on a long journey south, and left me here when it melted. I can tell you that my views have changed a lot since that time. At the moment I can’t see very far anymore with all these trees around me.’ ‘You see?’ the stump said. ‘That’s how I know that the idea of keeping the landscape fixed is an illusion. The nice thing about the arrival of new species is that they are different, and add new dimensions to the landscape.’ ‘But what do you think about invasive species? A plant or animal that enters a new region and dominates the many existing ones?’ I asked. ‘I don’t belong to an invasive species,’ the stump explained. ‘During the entire course of my life, only a few of my seeds have become small trees. Most of my seeds and seedlings are eaten by birds, squirrels and hares, and if you cut me down, I don’t produce any new shoots from my stump.’ ‘It sounds like we are dominating you at the moment!’ I said. ‘Doesn’t it just!’ the stump said wryly. ‘People seem to like us better when we’re dead, because our fast-growing wood can be sold for a lot of money.’ I imagined the forests being emptied of all the exotic trees, and started to feel sad. ‘Can’t I do something to help you survive?’ I said with tears in my eyes. ‘Unfortunately you can’t prevent me from dying soon,’ the stump said, ‘but you could make me very happy by replanting some of my seedlings in a safe place, where they can hopefully grow up and have seedlings themselves.’ ‘I will try my very best to make that happen for you,’ I promised. ‘Can you please tell me where I can find your seedlings?’ ‘You can find two healthy ones behind the rock I mentioned earlier. I can’t thank you enough for promising to take care of them.’ ‘I look forward to doing that,’ I said softly.

The organised ants

I was still sitting next to the tree stump when I noticed a stream of ants crawling along its surface. They seemed to be coming from the other side of the stump, and when I bent over to take a closer look, I was surprised to see a developing anthill. The tree had only been felled for a week, but somehow the ants were already using its base as a new home! ‘What are you so fascinated by?’ I heard below me. I looked down at the stump, where one of the ants was still crawling along. ‘By you and your colleagues!’ I told the ant. ‘You must have worked incredibly hard over the last few days!’ ‘Do you think?’ the ant said with surprise. ‘I’m quite used to this pace.’ ‘I can see that!’ I replied. ‘You look quite comfortable; even with that piece of material between your jaws!’ ‘Oh yes, that’s just a piece of twig,’ the ant explained. ‘Construction materials are in high demand at the moment!’ The twig seemed larger than the ant itself, and made me think of something my grandpa had given me a few days earlier. ‘What if I give you a small eye to carry into the nest?’ I said. The ant looked confused. ‘What would that be good for?’ ‘Well, I’m just curious to take a look inside; I can’t see anything from where I am, and it just seems so chaotic; you have so much going on at once; it would be fascinating to find out how you’re managing it all!’ ‘Hmm,’ the ant said. ‘I don’t know how my co-workers will feel about this, but I suppose I could take you on a tour, if that’s what you want….’ ‘Yes, please!’ ‘Ok then, but first I need to deliver this precious twig to my colleagues; I’ll be back in a few minutes.’

While the ant was busy, I found the tiny camera with a two-way microphone that my grandpa had given me for just such occasions. After switching it on, I would be able to see video on my phone, and chat with the ant while she made her way through the colony! I felt very excited and couldn’t wait for my new friend to return. ‘Just put it here in front of me,’ I heard a few moments later. The tree stump was teeming with ants now - carrying twigs and dead insects - and I couldn’t possibly recognise the one I had been talking to earlier. ‘Sorry, but where are you exactly?’ ‘I’m the one not carrying anything right now!’ the ant shouted. ‘Look! I’m not moving around either!’ ‘Thank you! That helped!’ I said, and placed the mini-camera in front of her. The ant picked it up without any difficulty, and re-joined the stream of workers on their way towards the hill. I quickly turned on my phone to see if everything worked, but could only see the ant herself. ‘How am I doing?’ the ant asked with pride. ‘Very well, and the images are wonderful, but you might want to carry it the other way around!’ ‘No problem,’ the ant replied. ‘I’ll be entering the nest soon, so it’s better to change things now!’

The ant had reached the edge of the stump and made her way onto the hill. There were ants crawling everywhere, but my friend had chosen to follow a line of workers carrying dead insects. After she entered the nest, the pace was as fast as it had been before, and I got slightly dizzy watching the workers wiggle their way down the narrow tunnels. Suddenly, the ants in front of my friend turned to the left and disappeared. ‘Where have they gone?’ I asked my guide. ‘Oh, they’re just dropping off some food,’ she replied. ‘Do you mean the dead insects that they were carrying?’ ‘Yes indeed.’ ‘Can we go back and take a look?’ I begged. ‘I don’t know,’ the ant said. ‘I’m not really supposed to go in there….’ ‘Why not?’ ‘Well, that’s just how we do things in this colony’ the ant explained. ‘If I’m not carrying any food, I have no reason to go in there.’ ‘So we can’t take a look inside?’ ‘Normally I wouldn’t be allowed in … but since I’m carrying this strange “eye”, perhaps they’ll accept me.’ ‘Really?’ I said. ‘Yes, because the others won’t know what it is, so they won’t know whether I’m in the right place or not!’ My friend turned around and quickly moved into the narrow passageway through which the other ants had disappeared.

A few moments later, the visuals on my phone changed completely. A spacious chamber opened up on my screen, and it took me a while to realise what was going on inside it. It dawned on me that ant workers were carefully adding dead insects to piles and piles of the same. It looked like they were in a food storage chamber! ‘Is this what I think it is?’ I asked my guide. ‘What do you mean?’ she said. ‘I didn’t know that ants store their food in special chambers!’ I explained. ‘Well, it wouldn’t make sense to have it lying around everywhere, now would it?’ my friend replied. ‘You’re definitely not as chaotic as I thought,’ I said with a laugh. ‘Just wait and see…,’ the ant promised. ‘There’s a lot more to come!’ My guide left the chamber again and continued her journey through the colony. ‘Where are we going next?’ I asked her. ‘I’m not telling you!’ the ant teased. ‘We’ll get there soon enough!’ From the angle of the camera it looked like we were going deeper and deeper into the mound. The video was still shaky, and I had to look away from the screen every so often to avoid feeling sick. After the ant took a particularly sharp turn, I noticed she had entered a tunnel that was quite different from the ones she had navigated before. The wall to the right looked smooth and wet, and the colour was unusual as well. I couldn’t work out why one of the walls would be so different, and decided to ask my guide for help. ‘It’s the root of a tree!’ the ant explained. ‘Of the tree that was felled?’ I said with surprise. ‘Yes, indeed,’ the ant replied. ‘It’s much easier for us to dig down along roots than to make the entire tunnel from scratch.’ ‘That makes sense!’ I said. ‘But why do you need to go underground in the first place?’

The ant ignored my question and kept on following the curves of the tree’s root. Then, suddenly, she changed direction again; joining a stream of ants entering a chamber much larger than the storage room we’d seen earlier. I held my breath as I took in the scene. Everything seemed to revolve around a huge creature in the centre of the chamber. ‘What is that?’ I gasped. ‘That!’ the ant said jubilantly, ‘is our wonderful queen!’ ‘Really?’ was all I could manage to say. For some reason, the footage from my tiny camera made her look even more enormous than I had imagined, especially compared to the other ants. ‘Is she OK?’ ‘Of course she is!’ my friend said reassuringly. ‘I’m glad to hear that,’ I continued, ‘because it looks like she is in a hospital emergency room!’ ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ the ant replied. ‘I’m sorry,’ I said. ‘What I meant was that it looks like she is in intensive care!’ ‘She is indeed!’ my guide said proudly. She’s being looked after really well by all the workers here. Some are feeding her, and others are carrying her eggs to special egg hatching chambers. Would you like to take a look?’ ‘Of course!’ ‘Alright then.’ I watched the queen produce another egg, and then saw it being picked up by one of the worker ants. My guide rushed over to catch up with her, and walked closely behind her until they reached the hatching room. I was impressed to see how organised it looked, and wondered how long it would take for the young ants to appear. ‘What do you think?’ my friend asked. ‘It looks amazing!’ I said. ‘When will they come out?’ ‘It only takes a few days,’ the ant explained. ‘Hang on a second and I’ll show you what they look like.’ The camera moved closer to some eggs that were starting to hatch. Instead of the expected ants, I witnessed small, white, wriggling larvae come out of them. Realising that things were more complex than I thought, I decided to keep quiet for a while. ‘Let me show you the next few stages,’ my guide proposed. She left the chamber through a tunnel on the other end and marched onwards to yet another room. ‘This is where we feed the larvae,’ my friend explained. ‘It will take a few weeks, but after that it’s just a matter of waiting.’ ‘I can’t wait!’ I joked. ‘I know!’ the ant replied, and guided me to a room full of cocooned larvae. ‘These pupae are the future of our colony,’ the ant said proudly. ‘Wonderful things are happening inside those cocoons at the moment. Over a period of several weeks, the mature larvae change into ants, and the work force of the colony expands!’ ‘Is that all you’re interested in?’ I asked. ‘What do you mean?’ ‘Well, are you only interested in working?’ ‘I love my work a lot,’ the ant admitted, ‘but I also enjoy a break every so often. To be honest, I could do with one right now!’ ‘Oh, please go ahead,’ I said, and watched the ant find a chamber to relax in.

‘I’m sorry to disturb you during your break,’ I continued, ‘but I’m really impressed by how smoothly everything is running. You all seem to find your way around the colony so easily, and each of the workers knows exactly what her job is. Who organises all that? Does the queen tell you where to go and what to do?’ ‘No she doesn’t,’ the ant chuckled. ‘She wouldn’t have the energy! How would you feel if you were laying eggs all the time!’ ‘I don’t think I will ever know,’ I joked. ‘Nobody needs to tell us what to do,’ the ant explained. ‘We just organise ourselves.’ ‘But how?’ ‘Generally I don’t think too much about that,’ the ant admitted. ‘I just know what needs to be done. When I sense the need for twigs, I will go and get some.’ ‘Don’t you get tired of doing the same thing over and over again?’ ‘I hadn’t finished my story yet!’ the ant protested. ‘ ‘Oh, go on then,’ I said. ‘I was going to say that when I’m on my way to find twigs and I happen to sense the presence of food, I’m obviously not going to ignore that. I’ll stop collecting twigs and carry the food home instead.’ ‘I see,’ I said. ‘Yes, or if part of the colony collapses, and I’m in the neighbourhood, I’ll help to restore it to its former glory.’ ‘Right,’ I said, ‘but you don’t seem to do a lot of travelling for example.’ ‘I travel every day,’ the ant smiled. ‘Outside and inside the colony; each day is a new adventure.’ ‘I meant travelling to far-away places, like the other side of the forest.’ ‘Oh, we do that too,’ my friend revealed. ‘How do you think we arrived here in the first place?’ ‘Did you all move here together?’ I asked with surprise. ‘No, I was born from our queen, but the queen herself travelled here from a nearby colony.’ ‘Really?’ I said. ‘Yes,’ the ant continued, ‘and when this colony is large and healthy, our queen will produce young queens, who will then fly out and start new colonies.’ ‘Thank you for that beautiful explanation,’ I said to my friend. ‘I feel I need to run free for a little while myself too.’ ‘Alright, that sounds good,’ the ant replied. ‘Let me return this “eye” to you and then we can say goodbye.’ I waited for my guide to re-appear from inside the mound, and watched her leave for another trip along the forest floor. After putting my phone and the mini-camera safely in my pocket, I turned around and broke into a run; like a young queen flying towards the light.

The beautiful spider

I kept running through the forest until I was stopped in my tracks by a low-hanging branch. When I moved the branch away from me, it passed through a shaft of bright, early morning light. The rays of sunshine revealed a beautiful spider web glistening with dew. I looked at it with admiration, and wondered how a spider could have created something so delicate and complex. The only thing that kept the web from looking perfect was a small, old leaf that seemed to have got stuck in one of the corners. I was about to pull the leaf off, when an angry voice told me to stay away. I looked carefully, but couldn’t see anyone to stay away from. ‘Are you a two-legged creature?’ the voice continued. ‘Hmm, yes, you could say so,’ I replied. ‘Do you have a beak?’ the voice asked worriedly. ‘No, definitely not,’ I said. ‘I’ve got a mouth instead. Why do you want to know?’ ‘Two-legged creatures are dangerous,’ I heard. ‘You must be fond of spiders.’ ‘Are you kidding?’ I said. ‘Spiders are the last things I would ever eat!’ As soon as I had finished my sentence, a spider appeared from behind the small leaf. ‘Hello, I’m Mira,’ she said. ‘Good to meet you Mira,’ I said, ‘but I’m very sorry to have disturbed you.’ ‘Yes, I got a bit worried there for a moment,’ Mira said. ‘I know! I’m glad you saw me coming!’ ‘Me too, but right now I can’t see you very well.’ ‘Wait, I’ll get a bit closer again,’ I said.

While the spider was observing me, I noticed something strange. ‘Do you have eight eyes, Mira?’ ‘Yes of course!’ she said. ‘And eight legs as well!’ ‘Really?’ I said. ‘How long did it take you to learn how to walk with all those legs?’ ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ Mira said. ‘It happens automatically, just like spinning a web.’ ‘Don’t you need to learn how to make a beautiful web like this?’ I asked in disbelief. ‘No, the whole process just unfolds naturally,’ Mira explained. ‘We have been making silk for over 400 million years, you see?’ ‘So, how do you do it?’ I wondered. ‘I always start by creating the frame and the spokes, using non-sticky spider silk,’ Mira said. ‘After I’m done with that, I make the elastic, sticky catch threads that are fixed between the spokes. Together they form a sticky spiral around the centre of the web.’ ‘Do you ever get caught by your own sticky threads?’ I asked boldly. ‘No of course not!’ Mira said. ‘I use a temporary, non-sticky spiralling thread to walk along while I’m creating the sticky ones.’ ‘Temporary?’ ‘Yes,’ Mira explained. ‘I recycle the non-sticky thread by eating it, because I don’t want the insects to escape when they fly against my web!’ ‘But what happens if you touch the sticky threads by accident?’ I said. ‘Luckily my legs are covered with a bit of anti-stick coating,’ the spider continued, ‘so if I make a mistake, I still have time to escape.’ ‘Very clever, Mira!’ I said. ‘When are you expecting to catch something?’ I have no idea,’ she said. ‘All I can do is try to be patient.’ ‘You sound like my Grandpa!’ I remarked. ‘Why? Is he a spider too?’ Mira asked. ‘No! He is a two-legged creature like me, but when he tries to catch fish, he needs a lot of patience, just like you!’ ‘That reminds me of spiders who build their nests underwater,’ Mira said. ‘They can only survive among the fish by breathing air, so they turn their nests into a giant air bubble.’ ‘How?’ ‘By carrying air down from the surface in smaller bubbles, which are trapped by hairs on their bodies.’ ‘Impressive!’ I said. ‘Yes, there are so many different kinds of spiders,’ Mira continued. Some make webs that look like mine, but others prefer a different design, or no web at all.’ ‘How do the ones without a web catch their prey?’ I wondered. ‘They hunt their prey down, or jump on top of them, Mira explained. ‘But that’s too much trouble for me - it seems more relaxing to use my own method!’ ‘And more beautiful too,’ I added. ‘I suppose you’re right!’ Mira said proudly. ‘It’s a shame that I don’t really see the beauty of my web. It seems quite ordinary to me.’ ‘Maybe you’re just too busy making it and catching insects,’ I said. ‘Insects?’ Mira said.

She immediately started sensing the spokes in her web for any sign of movement, and she was lucky, because a wasp had got stuck in one of the corners. Mira raced along the silken thread that started to tremble the most, and seemed happy to discover that the wasp was unable to escape. She waited for the insect to get ever more entangled in her web, slowly losing its ability to move. When it was still enough, she held it between her front legs, and wrapped it in a special silk. ‘That’s done,’ Mira said. ‘I hope you understand the mystery of my many legs now. As you could see, I need some of them to walk along my web, some to hold my preys, and some to pull the silk thread out of my silk glands.’ ‘Is the wasp dead now?’ I asked. ‘No, I first need to inject some venom into him,’ Mira said, pointing at two small jaws just below her eyes. I watched her biting into the cocooned wasp, and then taking the cocoon to her hiding place behind the old leaf. ‘Give me a moment,’ she said. ‘I need to inject some digestive fluids into him before I can start eating.’ After a while she appeared again, looking satisfied. ‘That was quick,’ I said. ‘Yes, it’s either him or me. I can’t afford to underestimate wasps.’ ‘Why not?’ ‘Some wasps like to paralyse us with their horrible stings,’ Mira explained, ‘so that they can drag us to their underground burrows, and feed us to their larva. You can imagine how much I like that idea!’

Just after Mira had stopped talking, a small bird landed on a branch nearby. ‘Have you seen any nice beetles or other snacks around here?’ he asked me. ‘Hmm, no,’ I replied, trying very hard not to look at Mira. ‘There might be some back there.’ I suggested, pointing in the direction of the clearing I had just left. The bird disappeared as swiftly as it had arrived. ‘Thank you so much,’ the spider sighed. ‘I thought I was about to experience the final few moments of my life! Is there anything I can do for you in return?’ ‘No, don’t worry, Mira,’ I said. ‘Are you sure?’ she insisted. ‘Well, actually, I would love to see you make a new web from scratch.’ ‘I can’t do that for you unfortunately,’ Mira said. ‘Why not?’ ‘I really don’t need another web at the moment. The catch threads are still nice and sticky, so I would just be wasting my silk. But, as you can see, the wasp left quite a big hole in my web, so I could show you how to repair it!’ ‘That would be great, Mira!’ The spider started working immediately. I saw her eating a few disorganised threads around the hole, and then she started pulling out new ones. ‘It looks amazing,’ I said. ‘How can you possibly store all those threads inside you?’ ‘It’s a secret,’ Mira joked. ‘Oh, come on!’ I begged. ‘It’s stored as a protein-rich liquid in my silk glands,’ Mira explained. ‘When I need to make new threads, I push some of the liquid out through the tiny holes in my glands. As the liquid is coming out, the water evaporates, and the rest solidifies into silk threads.’ ‘That was another beautiful performance, Mira,’ I said once she had finished. ‘Do you like it? I did my best, but sadly the web will never look quite like new again.’

I was still admiring the spider’s work, when, suddenly, a crack appeared in Mira’s skin. Was she about to burst open and die in front of my eyes? I was worried, but didn’t know what to do. ‘Mira, are you OK?’ I asked. ‘Yes, don’t worry,’ she replied with a muted voice. ‘I’m just shedding my skin.’ ‘Oh,’ was all I could say while the new Mira appeared looking fresh. ‘I guess I should have warned you,’ Mira continued, ‘but when it happens, I don’t have a lot of time for other things. If I’m not quick enough, the skin will dry and I will have a really hard time getting out of it without losing a leg.’ ‘Losing a leg?’ ‘Yes, it’s better to lose a leg than to die, and each time I grow new skin, my damaged leg will grow back a bit.’ ‘I wish I could do that,’ I thought. Then, out of the corner of my eye, I saw a small spider climb onto Mira’s web. ‘Is that your son?’ I asked her. ‘No, silly!’ she screamed. ‘That is one of my admirers!’ ‘Of your beautiful web?’ ‘Well, maybe that too!’ she laughed. ‘You smell wonderfully,’ the small spider sang. ‘And you’re so beautifully fat!’ ‘You see?’ Mira smiled. ‘I think he’s admiring me.’ ‘Some spiders like to dance for their partners,’ she continued, ‘but we do things differently.’ ‘Will you have baby spiders soon?’ ‘Yes, I think so,’ Mira said. ‘First my eggs need to be fertilised. Once they’ve ripened enough, I’ll drop them somewhere and wrap them in silk.’ ‘I think I’ve seen cocoons like that near Grandpa’s place,’ I said. ‘Did you make those, Mira?’ ‘No, I didn’t,’ she sighed, ‘because I will have died before the larvae develop into small spiders.’ ‘Really?’ I said. ‘Does that happen to all spiders?’ ‘No, not to all of us,’ Mira explained. ‘Some female spiders stay alive long enough to protect and feed their young, sometimes even letting them eat their remains when they do die.’ ‘And the males?’ ‘Oh, the males!’ Mira said while glancing at her man. ‘They vanish as soon as they’ve fertilised the eggs. I don’t know what my admirer will do once we’ve been together. He might visit another female, or maybe it’s time for him to die…. I don’t know if I’ll be able to let him go though; he looks so delicious!’ ‘I’m glad you desire me too!’ the male spider sang as he made his way over to Mira. Together they disappeared behind the old leaf.

I took one last look at the web and continued my way through the forest. After a while the ground started to rise, and I kept on climbing until I reached the top of the hill. Panting and sweating I walked across the top to enjoy the views on the other side. The sun was getting higher now, and it promised to be another nice day. I sat down and closed my eyes for a moment, delighting in the forest smells and the warmth of the sun on my face. A bird started singing nearby, and I remembered the beautiful dawn chorus of birds I had heard from inside my tent earlier in the morning. When I opened my eyes again, I spent some time taking in the view. Huge clouds were floating across the distant sky, and trees dotted the hillside below me. Down in the valley I could see a small stream winding its way through some grassland. I realised that I enjoyed the view as much as I had enjoyed the spider web earlier. The longer I looked, the more details and patterns I discovered, and the more beautiful it became. Why did I enjoy it all so much - the sunshine, the birdsong, the smells and sights? I had no good answer to that question. Maybe it wasn’t the same for everybody, but these were certainly some of the things that I enjoyed the most.

The wise worm

I ran down the hillside towards the small stream I’d seen in the valley below. When I arrived at its bank, I needed to take a break to catch my breath. One of the clouds I’d seen earlier was floating above me now, emptying itself of rain just where I was sitting! I didn’t mind the shower too much, as it helped me cool down from the run. The next rain-cloud passed further beyond me, and with the sun shining on it, a beautiful rainbow appeared. I was lying down on my side to enjoy it even more, when something below me told me to move away. I got up and looked for a sign of life among the grass. All I could see was a worm hastily wriggling its way back into its hole. ‘Was that you?’ I asked. ‘Yes!’ the worm said angrily from within its hiding place. ‘Why did you try to squash me?’ ‘I didn’t!’ I said apologetically. ‘I don’t believe you,’ the worm said shortly. ‘I honestly didn’t intend to harm you,’ I said. ‘Do you always speak the truth?’ the worm asked. ‘Hmm, not always,’ I admitted. ‘Then how can I know that you’re not a danger to us?’ the worm continued. ‘Relax. It’s really not worth your energy to be afraid of me.’ ‘I wish I could trust you,’ the worm mumbled, ‘but you’re much bigger than me.’ ‘Size doesn’t always matter,’ I said. ‘Some creatures of your size can poison someone as big as me. So, maybe I should be afraid of you!’ ‘I wish that were the case,’ the worm sighed. ‘Well, to be honest,’ I said, ‘worms do scare me a bit.’ ‘We do?’ ‘Yes, the idea of touching you makes me shiver….’ ‘That’s very good news,’ the worm squealed, ‘because I’d love to grab a few delicious leaves before the sun re-appears.’ ‘What’s wrong with the sunshine?’ ‘Sunshine is the most dangerous thing in the world,’ the worm said. The rays are like flames - scorching me as soon as they touch me. I remembered how the rays of the sun had warmed my face at the top of the hill, and couldn’t believe how much the worm and I seemed to differ from each other.

The worm had come out of its hole now and was wriggling towards an old, dry leaf. ‘Are you sure you want to eat that?’ I asked. ‘Oh yes,’ the worm exclaimed. ‘It will be the most delicious snack ever!’ ‘How can you possibly exist on dry leaves?’ I wondered. ‘I don’t know,’ the worm admitted. ‘All I know is that they are very nutritious and keep me alive and well. Worms who live deeper underground might prefer to eat soil though.’ ‘I think you’re making a mistake there,’ I laughed, ‘because nothing can live off sand and clay only!’ ‘Soil is not just sand and clay!’ the worm said. ‘It also has tiny bits of organic matter that can make a very good meal if you eat enough of it.’ ‘Where do those bits of matter come from?’ I asked. ‘From bacteria, algae, fungi, plants, animals and manure,’ the worm explained. ‘So, is it true that you will eat me after I die?’ ‘What do you mean?’ ‘Well, if I’m buried in the ground, will you come and eat me?’ ‘No, of course not,’ the worm said. ‘Why do you think they call me Earthworm? When we eat soil, we only eat bits of dead animals – bits that have been produced by other creatures, such as bacteria, larvae, and maybe other kinds of worms.’ ‘So you will eat me once I’ve been turned into little bits!’ I screamed. ‘What are you screaming at me for,’ the worm said calmly. ‘Why don’t you get angry with all the other creatures who will have eaten you in the first place?’ I didn’t know what to say for a moment. My brain seemed to be in overdrive as it tried to imagine the millions of creatures, which, together, were apparently eating and digesting everything that ever died, turning it into the smallest of particles. ‘Listen,’ the worm continued, ‘I look at it this way. If we weren’t here to recycle all the dead matter, there wouldn’t be any food for new beings to grow. Look at your young self; you must have eaten something today.’ ‘Yes,’ I said shortly. ‘Well then, where did that food come from?’ the worm asked. ‘From a plant I think.’ ‘OK, and where did that plant grow?’ ‘In a garden or field somewhere.’ ‘Brilliant!’ the worm said. ‘So now you understand that the plant was able to grow and feed you because its roots were taking up nutrients – nutrients that we helped to liberate by eating dead leaves and soil.’

The worm had stopped talking, and used its mouth to grab the dead leaf in front of him. Once he held it tightly between his lips, he didn’t bother to turn around, but instead wriggled backwards to his burrow. I watched with fascination as parts of his body contracted and expanded, pulling him ever closer to his destination. ‘Is this how you move through the soil as well?’ I asked him. ‘Yes indeed,’ the worm said, ‘but when I create new channels through the soil, I do not move backwards. I will try to push the soil aside with my head first, and, if it is too hard, I may have to eat a bit to keep moving!’ ‘It sounds like nothing can stop you!’ I said. ‘Unfortunately that’s not always the case,’ the worm explained. ‘Sometimes the soil just gets too dry for example. Even the slimy layers on my skin can’t help me move around when that happens.’ ‘So what do you do during a drought?’ ‘I try to go deeper into the ground,’ the worm said. ‘Usually it’s a bit moister down there.’ ‘But is it safe?’ I asked. ‘What do you mean?’ ‘Is there enough air to breathe?’ ‘Yes of course! There is plenty of air in the channels, and as long as my skin stays moist, oxygen can go through it and enter my body.’ ‘Don’t you have lungs then?’ ‘No, we don’t,’ the worm said, ‘but maybe we are a kind of lung - the lungs of the soil.’ ‘Tell me more,’ I pleaded. ‘Well, I’m not the only worm in this valley,’ the worm continued. ‘I think there are at least three of us in the soil below your feet, so you might see thousands of worm casts along this river. If you imagine that many of us are burrowing deep into the ground, creating channels everywhere we go, then it’s easy to understand that a lot of air can enter the soil.’ ‘And water too?’ I said. ‘Yes, water too.’ ‘It sounds like you are doing important work!’ I said. ‘Yes indeed,’ the worm smiled. ‘Water and air are important for almost everything that lives in the soil. Many bacteria, fungi, insects and plant roots can’t survive without it. Our channels and casts help to create a soil that is both loose and connected, supplying water, air and nutrients evenly throughout.’

‘Don’t you ever get tired of digesting leaves and pushing soil around?’ I wondered. ‘No, not at all!’ the worm replied. ‘We really enjoy eating and travelling around like this. It changes and mixes the soil from top to bottom, which is why it’s never boring.’ ‘Are you doing that everywhere? Even in people’s gardens?’ ‘Only if there are enough leaves to eat!’ the worm replied half-jokingly. ‘You might think that that’s a joke,’ I said, ‘but some people really do remove all the dead leaves from their gardens.’ ‘What?!’ ‘Yes, seriously,’ I continued. ‘In some gardens you can’t even see the soil anymore, because it is completely covered with stones.’ ‘I don’t know what to say,’ the worm sighed. ‘I wouldn’t be able to survive in a place like that. Do you think that they do it on purpose?’ ‘Why do you think they would?’ I asked. ‘Well, maybe they are scared of us, like you. Or maybe they don’t want to attract any creatures who might eat us, like birds and moles, or mice and hedgehogs.’ ‘I wouldn’t think so,’ I said. ‘There are plenty of people who like you.’ ‘Really?’ ‘Yes, for fishing for example.’ ‘What do you mean?’ ‘I meant to say that a lot of people like you very much,’ I said quickly. ‘You’ve already said that.’ ‘Hmm, yes, I’m sorry. Anyway, I think that the people who remove dead leaves from their gardens simply don’t realise that they are removing your food.’ ‘If that’s the case, then I wish they’d be a bit more aware of us!’ the worm said. ‘Me too,’ I said, ‘but they don’t see you very often, so it’s probably not very easy for them to be aware of you all the time….’ ‘Is “seeing” us that important?’ the worm wondered. ‘Yes of course,’ I replied. ‘How else can we be aware of you?’ ‘By sensing our vibrations when we move around the soil, perhaps?’ the worm suggested. ‘Is that how you sense us?’ I guessed. ‘Yes indeed,’ the worm explained. ‘I can sense your vibrations very well - much better than I can see you.’ ‘Really?’ I said. The worm and I seemed to differ even more from each other than I had already thought. Wouldn’t it be fun to sense the worm as it wriggled through the soil, I thought.

‘I’m really sad that I can’t sense your vibrations,’ I told the worm. ‘But, fortunately, some people are quite good at learning interesting things about you, and sharing it with the rest of us.’ ‘Anything exciting?’ the worm asked. ‘Hmm, let me think,’ I said. ‘Oh yes. Did you know that worms have five hearts?’ I said enthusiastically. ‘Well, of course,’ the worm replied dryly. ‘Who do you think you’re talking to???’ I tried to think of something a bit more surprising, and remembered a story I had heard not too long ago. ‘What about plants that can eat worms?’ I said. ‘Yeah right,’ the worm laughed. ‘I’m not kidding!’ I said. ‘People have recently found a plant whose leaves can digest worms!’ ‘How do you know that that’s true?’ the worm protested. ‘Have you seen this plant yourself?’ ‘No, I haven’t,’ I admitted, ‘but I have seen it through their eyes - in pictures and words.’ ‘I don’t know if I can believe you … or them,’ the worm said. ‘Why would a worm want to get near a leaf that isn’t dead?’ ‘Because the leaves are underground!’ I said triumphantly. ‘Underground?’ the worm said, looking slightly worried. ‘And, hmm, can you please tell me what they look like?’ ‘Don’t panic!’ I said. ‘The plant doesn’t grow around here, and I think it eats worms that are a lot smaller than you!’ ‘Oh, I’m glad,’ the worm said with relief. ‘My mouth was starting to feel a bit dry there for a moment!’ ‘It could also be the sun,’ I warned. ‘I think it’s about to re-appear in the wake of this cloud.’ The worm turned towards the old, dry leaf that was still lying next to him. He was about to get hold of it again, when, for a moment, he seemed to hesitate. Then, his confidence returned, and he wriggled backwards into his hole, all the while pulling the leaf down into the darkness with him.

The hungry toad

The worm had disappeared into its hole and didn’t resurface. When I imagined him nibbling away at his precious leaf, I began to get a bit hungry again myself. I took a sandwich out of my lunch-bag and munched on it while looking out over the river. The air above the water was filled with the movements of many insects. Some would hover for a while before continuing their flight. I tried to trace a few of them, but quickly realised it was an impossible task. I had another bite of my sandwich, when, suddenly, one of the insects raced towards me and landed on top of the bread. It looked like a wasp, and my first reaction was to throw everything away, but I was still quite hungry, so I carefully tried to shake the wasp off instead. ‘Don’t you like me?’ the wasp hummed. ‘Not really,’ I replied shortly. ‘Why not?’ she insisted. ‘Well that’s obvious, isn’t it?’ ‘What do you mean?’ ‘Do you know anyone who’d like to be stung by you?’ I asked. ‘Oh that,’ she buzzed. ‘You’re not the firzt creature to miztake me for a wazp!’ ‘Aren’t you?’ ‘No, I may look like one, but I can’t zting anyone; I’m a hoverfly.’ ‘Oh, I am sorry!’ I said. ‘What’s your name?’ ‘My name’z Heli,’ she hummed, ‘and I’m really enjoying thiz honey. Where did you get it from?’ ‘From my Grandpa’s bee hives,’ I said. ‘Is it any good?’ ‘It’z zzoooooo nize,’ she hummed. ‘I don’t know if I can zztop eating it.’ ‘If you leave the rest for me, you can have some more at Grandpa’s place if you want.’ ‘I can’t wait!’ Heli droned. ‘When are we going?’ ‘Not just yet,’ I laughed. ‘Let’s go in an hour from now.’ ‘Ok,’ said Heli, and re-joined the cloud of insects above the water.

While I was finishing my sandwich, I admired the hoverflies. They seemed to hang magically in the air like little helicopters. I knew their wings were moving really fast, but my eyes couldn’t detect any movement at all. Then, right in front of me, I saw a large toad climb onto the grassy riverbank. I leaned forward to take a closer look, and noticed that its skin was full of warts. As soon as the toad became aware of me, she froze. Her eyes looked like golden gemstones, and, if I hadn’t seen her moving before, I probably would have thought that she was a large rock. Unfortunately, the toad didn’t like my proximity and jumped back into the river. Just when I was convinced that I wouldn’t see her again, I heard a splash and saw her sitting on top of a lily pad. ‘Why are you following me?’ the toad croaked from her floating leaf. ‘I didn’t mean to scare you,’ I said. ‘I was just hoping you might have time for a quick chat.’ ‘Actually, I don’t,’ the toad said, ‘because chatting keeps the insects away, and insects are everything to me.’ The toad was staring at the lotus flower next to her. I followed her gaze and soon realised that she wasn’t interested in the flower, but in my friend Heli, who was enjoying the lily’s nectar. ‘Heli, watch out!’ I screamed. The hoverfly managed to escape the toad’s quick, sticky tongue, and thanked me for warning her. The toad, on the other hand, didn’t look too amused. ‘Thank you ever so much for all your help,’ she sneered. ‘This is exactly why I don’t like interacting with creatures like you.’

I decided to keep quiet, not wanting to disturb the toad even more. A few minutes later, she spotted a large bluebottle fly, and this time I said nothing. ‘Oh, that was delicious!’ the toad croaked. ‘Almost as good as a worm.’ ‘A worm?’ I said worriedly. ‘Do you eat those too?’ ‘Yes of course,’ the toad continued throatily. ‘I’ve been eating them for the last twenty years!’ ‘Really?’ I said. ‘Are you that old?’ ‘Maybe older still, if you count the time I was a little tadpole!’ ‘I love watching tadpoles change into small toads,’ I said excitedly. ‘Well, you might be in luck today then,’ the toad said. ‘I’ve just spawned some eggs here in the river, so if you come back in a little while, you can hopefully see my tadpoles develop into tiny toads.’ ‘Hopefully?’ ‘Yes, I’m hoping there won’t be too many hungry fish and birds around this year….’ ‘I see.’ ‘But I shouldn’t really be complaining,’ the toad continued. ‘I’m very happy to have found this river to spawn in, because sometimes, during dry years like this, there may not be enough water close by.’ ‘I thought you lived near water all year long,’ I said. ‘Not necessarily,’ the toad explained. ‘I only need to be close to a pond or river in spring, when it’s time to drop my eggs. It’s a miracle I survived the long track this year, because whenever I had to cross a hard strip of land, I was getting attacked by huge, fast-moving monsters.’ ‘Cars?’ I wondered. ‘Whatever they are called,’ the toad said disgustedly. ‘I’m glad you made it!’ I said. ‘Me too,’ the toad croaked.

‘So, where do you stay during the rest of the year?’ I asked. ‘We can live in all kinds of places,’ she explained, ‘as long as there is enough moisture. When it gets too dry or too cold, we need to find something to protect us, like a rock or an old tree stump, but, when the weather gets really extreme, we can only survive by digging underground burrows.’ ‘Is that how you survived the long, cold winter?’ I wondered. ‘Yes, indeed, but I was scarily skinny by the end of it. If the cold weather had lasted another week, I probably wouldn’t be hopping about here right now.’ ‘Really?’ I said. ‘Weren’t there any insects near your burrow that you could have eaten?’ ‘Unfortunately not,’ the toad croaked. ‘Everybody else was hiding too, and when I’m that cold I just don’t seem to have the energy to go hunting.’ ‘I can’t believe you can survive for months without any food whatsoever!’ I said. ‘Well, I do,’ the toad said simply. ‘Why do you think I’m only interested in insects at the moment? If I wasn’t eating as many as I could, I wouldn’t be fat enough to survive the coming winter. I always have to prepare myself for the worst.’ ‘So you don’t mind being fat?’ ‘I don’t know why anyone would mind being fat,’ the toad croaked. Fat means warmth, life, another trip to the pond, and hopefully many more tadpoles next spring….’ ‘You might be right,’ I said. ‘My Grandpa used to tell me incredible stories about the cold winters he survived. These days, our houses are heated during the winter, so we don’t need to eat as much, because if we did, we wouldn’t lose our fat anymore.’ ‘Lucky you,’ the toad croaked. ‘It sounds like you don’t need to worry about food as much as I do then. I wish I could only eat as much as I felt like, whether it’s a little, or a lot. That way I could enjoy other things as well, like jumping in for a swim, or hopping from lily pad to lily pad, just for fun.’ That’s very true, I thought. I wouldn’t be able to fly around with my sofa if I had to worry about food all the time…. But what if I wanted to spend all my spare time thinking about food? Then I could become a cook, I realised, and create the most delicious meals in the world. Not because it would be necessary to survive, but because people would enjoy the experience.

I was imagining some of the other things I might enjoy doing, when a whole concert of croaking erupted in front of me. This inspired me to try a few croaks myself, which only seemed to make the concert swell even louder in volume. ‘Are you sure you want to do this?’ the toad joked. ‘You might turn into a frog soon….’ ‘A frog?’ I laughed. ‘I thought I was doing my best to sound like a toad!’ ‘No, I’m afraid that we’ve got an army of frogs here…,’ the toad croaked. I listened carefully - trying to hear the differences - before joining the concert once again. ‘You’re really serious about this, aren’t you?’ the toad said with disbelief. ‘Yes, I’m enjoying it,’ I said. ‘It’s probably related to what you said earlier.’ ‘What did I say?’ ‘Well, that I have time to enjoy things which have nothing to do with food.’ ‘Oh that,’ the toad said. ‘Yes, sometimes I enjoy mimicking other creatures. It’s fun to keep trying until it seems like I’m one of them. Are you sure that you don’t have time for things like that?’ ‘We only do it when it prevents us from being eaten,’ the toad said dryly. ‘Go on,’ I said. ‘Some toads try to appear much bigger than they actually are, by inflating their lungs and lifting their bodies off the ground. Others prefer to flip on their back, revealing brightly coloured “fire” bellies. Both of these tricks are supposed to stop attackers from eating them.’ ‘That sounds exciting!’ I said. ‘Yes, but it doesn’t always work,’ the toad croaked, ‘so I don’t bother doing acrobatics. ‘I’m much more interested in toxins.’ ‘Are you toxic?’ ‘Yes indeed!’ the toad replied cheerily. ‘Can you show me how it works?’ I pleaded. ‘No, I’m sorry,’ she said resolutely, ‘I need to save my poisonous juices for the herons. I think there is a colony of those horrible birds nearby, because they visit this river almost every day. It’s very stressful for me when they’re around.’

The toad had stopped talking, and jumped from her lily pad onto the riverbank. There she paused for a moment, before burying her head in the grass. I remembered the incident with Heli and started to panic, as I couldn’t see what the toad was doing. ‘Stop that!’ I shouted. The toad looked up at me with angry eyes. I screamed when I realised that my friend the worm was half-swallowed by her, with its other half still dangling from her mouth. ‘Let go of him!’ I shouted. The toad didn’t budge, so I overcame my fears and held the wriggling worm between my fingers, trying to stop the toad from swallowing him even more. She didn’t want to let go of the worm though, and pulled back instead, causing my friend to snap in two. I was horrified, and dropped the half I was holding, while the toad swallowed hers. ‘You’re horrible!’ I cried. ‘He was my friend!’ The toad didn’t respond. I looked down at the damaged worm and was surprised to see that it was still wriggling. It even seemed to have moved from where I had dropped it. ‘I thought you were dead!’ I said relieved. ‘Almost!’ the worm squealed. ‘Can I do anything to help you?’ ‘No, don’t worry,’ the worm reassured me, ‘I’ll be fine.’ ‘He will just re-grow his tail,’ the toad croaked. ‘I’ve seen it all before.’ ‘Not if I hadn’t saved him!’ I said. ‘Stolen my food, you mean,’ the toad replied. ‘You’re right,’ I admitted, ‘but I like this worm very much; he is my friend.’ ‘Ok, I promise to leave him alone until his tail has grown back,’ the toad joked. I ignored her and tried to find out how the worm was doing. He had just reached his burrow and managed to drag himself down into the ground. ‘Are you going to be alright?’ ‘I hope so,’ the worm said. ‘First I’m going to relax for a while.’ Me too,’ I thought. I lay back on the grass and was about to close my eyes, when Heli landed on my chest. ‘Are we going yet?’ she asked. ‘Give me five more minutes,’ I yawned, before drifting off to sleep.

The brave herons

I was awakened by a gust of wind and the sound of flapping. When I opened my eyes, I saw a large heron standing motionless in the shallow water along the riverbank. The bird had a long, beautifully curved neck that changed smoothly into a narrow head and sharp, pointed beak. I could only imagine how stressed the toad might be, and hoped she wasn’t anywhere near the heron’s hunting ground. After watching the heron for a while, I realised that I was breathing less deeply and that my muscles had become tense. Not moving at all was hard work! I changed position and continued to admire the bird’s patience and endurance until I was getting too bored to keep on watching. My mind got distracted by the sunlight playing with clouds and the songs of birds. When, finally, I heard a splash, I already knew I’d missed the action. The heron was still standing in the same place, but now it was holding a black snake in its beak. Within a very short time, the snake was swallowed and the bird’s neck swelled. I felt queasy and turned away. When I looked up again, the bird had left the water and was getting ready to fly away. I was amazed by the span of its wings, and watched it take off and head towards some distant trees. I didn’t expect to see the heron again, but a few minutes later, it returned. To my surprise, it seemed to be looking for new prey. ‘Are you still hungry?’ I wondered out loud. ‘No, not really,’ the heron sang. ‘But my babies are.’ ‘Did they like your snake?’ ‘Oh yes they did, but they’re always crying for more, so I’ve come back to catch another one.’ ‘Another snake?’ ‘Anything; a fish or frog would be good too.’

The heron was slowly wading through the shallow water, until it stood motionless again. This time I wanted to see him catch something. Luckily it didn’t take too long before his neck flashed towards the water and he re-appeared with a small fish. After swallowing it, and catching a few more, he walked up the bank. ‘Are you done?’ I said. ‘Are you kidding?’ he replied. ‘Those fish were tiny. Late spring is not a great time for fishing. I wish I could find a few frogs before going home, but they seem to be hiding at the bottom of the river right now.’ The heron walked towards me and narrowly missed what looked like a stone. ‘Oh no,’ I thought, ‘the toad is still here!’ ‘What’s your name?’ I asked the heron quickly. ‘Ardeon,’ the heron said. ‘Is it true that you live in a colony?’ ‘Yes indeed,’ Ardeon said. ‘I’m living in the same colony I was born in.’ ‘Really?’ I said. ‘Yes,’ the heron continued, ‘and today is a special day, because my oldest chick will be trying to leave the nest for the very first time.’ ‘How exciting!’ I said. ‘You are more than welcome to go and have a look,’ Ardeon said warmly. The only problem is that you won’t be able to see much from the ground.’ ‘That’s not a problem at all!’ I said. ‘Just wait and see.’ ‘OK,’ the heron said, ‘I’ll be waiting for you near our colony. It’s in the canopy of those trees over there.’

I watched him lift off and fly away, steadily flapping his mighty wings. My plan was to head back to my flying sofa and witness the events from the air. ‘Heli, I’ll pick you up in a few minutes,’ I shouted. ‘Where are we going?’ she hummed. ‘I thought you’d take me to your Grandpa’z bee hivezz!’ ‘Don’t worry, Heli, I will take you there eventually, but first we need to make a little detour; it will be too good to miss!’ I ran back up the hill, and then through the forest until I reached the clearing. Kit was sleeping on one of the sofa’s seats, and I decided to take her with me. Together we flew to the river to pick up Heli, and then onwards to the trees that Ardeon had pointed out. When we arrived, I tried to find a clearing in which to land the sofa. Tall nettles were growing everywhere among the trees colonised by the herons, so I landed the sofa a bit further away. One of the herons saw us and joined us on the back of the sofa. It was Ardeon. ‘Why on Earth did you bring a cat with you?’ he asked me. I looked at Kit and realised it might not have been the best idea to take her along. ‘She’s a good friend of mine, Ardeon,’ I explained, ‘and I promise to keep an eye on her.’ ‘Alright then,’ the heron said, ‘as long as she doesn’t leave the sofa, she can stay.’ ‘She will definitely not be leaving the sofa around here!’ I said. ‘Look at all those tall nettles!’ ‘Oh yes,’ Ardeon said. ‘They are big, aren’t they?’ ‘Do you know why?’ I wondered. ‘Of course!’ he replied. ‘The secret is in our nutritious droppings….’

I marvelled at the height of the nettles until I was interrupted by a heron’s call. ‘There’s my Lady!’ Ardeon sang. We looked up and saw another heron circling above the trees. ‘She must have returned to deliver some food to our young,’ Ardeon explained. ‘The two of you are busy!’ I said. ‘How many chicks are you looking after?’ ‘Three at the moment,’ he said. ‘We had four beautiful eggs to start with, but one was attacked and eaten by a crow.’ ‘Whilst you were there?’ ‘No, I had just left the nest to go hunting for food, expecting my Lady to return imminently. Unfortunately she was delayed, and whilst we were both gone, one of the eggs was broken and emptied.’ ‘I’m sorry to hear that,’ I said. ‘Yes, we were much more careful afterwards, and now we are happy to have three strong chicks, ready to take their first flights.’ ‘I’m excited!’ I said. ‘Me too,’ Ardeon said. ‘Excited and hopeful.’ ‘Shall we go and have a look?’ I asked him. OK, let’s go up,’ the heron suggested. ‘It may still take a little while before my eldest is ready to go, but in the meantime we can watch some of the other nestlings if you like.’ ‘That sounds very good,’ I said, and got the sofa ready to follow Ardeon to the top of the trees. ‘Just hang on for a minute while I take a look at my chicks,’ the heron said.

When we reached the canopy, Ardeon flew towards the colonised trees and disappeared among their crowns and the rest of the herons. I thought it would be great to view the nests from above, and decided to head higher and in the same direction as Ardeon. Circling above the colony, we were suddenly approached by herons from all sides. ‘They’re attacking us!’ Kit screamed. ‘I think you’re right!’ I shouted back. Before the majority of the birds reached us, one of the herons landed on the back of the sofa. ‘Don’t worry,’ Ardeon said. ‘The others will now think that this is my new nest, and, because they know I’m strong enough to defend it, they won’t attack you anymore.’ ‘Thank you,’ Kit and I both said simultaneously. ‘Why didn’t you wait for me back there?’ the heron said, pointing his beak in the direction we had just come from. ‘I’m sorry, Ardeon. I really didn’t know it was so risky to come over.’ ‘It’s my fault,’ the heron admitted. ‘I should have warned you. Doing something for the first time can be quite dangerous. That’s why I’m trying to prepare my oldest chick as well as I can. The problem is that he will have to fly successfully the very first time he tries it, without ever having flown before!’ ‘That sounds more challenging than anything,’ I agreed. ‘How can he possibly prepare himself?’ ‘All he can do is practice on the nest,’ Ardeon said. ‘Let’s take a look at some of the other chicks - then you’ll understand what I mean.’ ‘Do you really want me to get closer to the nests?’ I asked worriedly. ‘Yes, that should be fine now.’

I lowered the sofa until we were close enough to see the birds in detail. Ardeon pointed at some chicks who could hardly walk yet. ‘Those are just a few weeks old,’ he explained. ‘That’s when they start using their legs to support themselves.’ ‘How long will it take before they can fly?’ I wondered. ‘Walking is only the first step,’ Ardeon continued. In two weeks time they will look like the chicks in that nest over there.’ ‘Will they be growing that much in only two weeks?’ I said with disbelief. ‘Yes indeed,’ Ardeon said proudly. ‘So the better I get at fishing and catching other creatures, the faster my chicks will grow.’ ‘Now I understand why one snake was not enough!’ ‘You see!’ the heron smiled. ‘But to return to your question, this is the age at which the chicks start exercising their wings.’ ‘Is that what that flapping is all about?’ ‘Yes, the flapping is very important. It may look like a useless activity, but it is the main thing that will prepare them for their first flight.’ ‘That’s incredible!’ ‘It takes about a month of practice,’ Ardeon continued. ‘So they will be about two months old when they first become fledglings.’ ‘Are you nervous?’ I asked him. ‘For my chicks, you mean?’ ‘Yes, in case something goes wrong?’ ‘I don’t know,’ Ardeon said. ‘I can’t remember being nervous about flying myself. It’s something we can’t afford to be. We will only survive our first flight if we are brave enough to have trust in ourselves.’ ‘So, accidents do happen?’ ‘Of course, but it doesn’t help our fledglings to focus on that. They have to believe that they can make it.’ ‘I hope your chicks will be as brave as you are,’ I said. ‘Thank you,’ Ardeon said. ‘I think the time has come to introduce you to my young ones. Let’s fly to that tree over there.’

I steered the sofa to Ardeon’s nest and was shocked to realise that his ‘chicks’ were as tall as him. ‘That’s my eldest,’ the heron said as he pointed to the biggest of the three grown-up chicks. ‘Are you ready?’ he asked his son. ‘I think so,’ the chick replied. ‘Try to visualise your flight ahead of time,’ Ardeon continued. ‘And when you do fly, remember to focus on a nearby branch that seems suitable for landing.’ Ardeon’s son croaked in agreement and walked up and down the edge of the nest, flapping his wings to prepare them for flight. Then, facing towards a branch of the tree next door, he leaped off the edge. Ardeon and I were so concentrated that we appeared to see the chick’s flight in slow motion. The first strokes of his wings were almost too slow, and when the bird went down faster than he had expected, he managed to quicken the pace before scrambling to land on the branch below him. ‘Well done!!!’ Ardeon and I shouted. ‘Now try to return to the nest,’ Ardeon said with encouragement. The chick soon attempted his return flight, but had difficulty gaining enough height. We held our breaths as the bird struggled to land on a lower branch instead. ‘Do you think he is scared?’ I asked Ardeon. ‘More brave than scared,’ the heron explained, ‘and each attempt will give him more confidence. The next two weeks are going to be full of challenges, such as flying longer distances, and catching fish. If he manages to hone his basic heron skills, he will have a good chance of surviving his first winter, and many more years to come.’ We heard the chick’s call as he successfully returned to the nest. Ardeon apologised for having to leave the sofa, as he wished to join his chicks for a break, having just experienced the most exciting afternoon in the life of his eldest son. I said goodbye to Ardeon and the chicks, and steered the sofa away from the colony.

The peaceful cow

We were now flying back towards Grandpa’s place and had just crossed the river, when, far below us, I spotted the hunter again. He was walking in the same direction as we were flying, and I immediately started to worry about Zara, the hare. Instead of going straight to Grandpa’s, I landed the sofa next to the tree stump in the forest clearing. It was from there that I wanted to make my way to the meadow in which I had first met Zara, to see if I could warn her. As we were walking away from the sofa, Heli suddenly disappeared. ‘I’ve been here before!’ she buzzed from a few metres away. ‘Really?’ I said. ‘Yes, about a week ago,’ she continued. ‘I didn’t know you could fly such long distances!’ I said with surprise. ‘Well, it was worth it! Heli said. ‘What do you mean?’ ‘Come over here and have a look!’ the fly said. ‘Do you see this shrub? It is full of aphids, so it was the perfect place to lay some of my eggs; my larvae must have had a real feast!’ ‘I didn’t know that hoverfly larvae love aphids!’ I said. ‘You must have done this shrub a big favour!’ ‘It looks like it could do with another one!’ Heli joked, and dropped a fresh batch of eggs on its leaves and buds. ‘Let’s go now, Heli,’ I said. ‘I would like to see if I can find Zara before the hunter does!’

I ran away from the clearing towards the edge of the forest, with Kit and Heli following closely behind. When we reached the meadow, I couldn’t see any hares at all. ‘Have you seen any hares recently?’ I asked the first cow we came across. ‘Oh yes, plenty,’ the cow replied. ‘Which one?’ ‘Zara,’ I said. ‘Oh, her,’ the cow said. ‘So, have you seen her?’ I insisted. ‘I might have,’ the cow said vaguely. ‘What do you mean?’ ‘Well, I can’t allow myself to get too worried about hares at the moment.’ ‘Why not?’ ‘I’m carrying my own calf,’ the cow explained, ‘and it makes me a bit distracted.’ ‘Oh, I’m sorry to be bothering you,’ I said apologetically. ‘That’s alright,’ she replied. ‘It’s nice to get distracted from the flies every now and then. They seem to be coming out in full force on beautiful days like this.’ The cow was using her tail to swish them away, but as soon as she stopped moving it, the flies returned. Desperate for some relief, she started to roll around in the mud. ‘That feels better,’ she said, and got back up on her feet. I watched her swing her tongue around a clump of grass, and tear the blades off with her teeth.

While she was grazing, I noticed at least fifteen other cows nearby. ‘Are they all your family members?’ I asked her. ‘Only some of them,’ she explained, ‘but that doesn’t mean that the other cows are strangers to me; I know all of them very, very well.’ ‘Really?’ I said. ‘Have you been together for a long time?’ ‘Yes, for many years now, which I think is wonderful.’ ‘Wouldn’t you like to meet a new cow every so often?’ ‘I wouldn’t look forward to it,’ the cow admitted, ‘because it upsets the peaceful atmosphere that we’ve created around here. Every time a new cow joins the herd, we all invariably get stressed for a while.’ ‘Why?’ ‘Because we need to get used to each other first. If we don’t figure out who is in charge, and in what order, the conflicts would never end. Right now, we know what our roles are within the herd, but when a new cow arrives, everything may change. It takes a long time, and many conflicts, to reach a new, peaceful order, so we don’t like it to be disturbed very often.’ ‘Does the farmer know that too?’ ‘Yes of course!’ the cow mooed. ‘He knows it’s better for everyone: for me, for my calf, and maybe for you too!’ ‘Me?’ ‘Yes, if we were stressed all the time, we would never produce as much milk as we do now!’ ‘Oh no, that would be awful!’ I laughed. ‘I wouldn’t want to miss out on my cheese!’ ‘You see?’ the cow mooed, ‘That is why peace is so important!’ I looked at the rest of the herd again, and noticed that they were still grazing peacefully. ‘Do you only eat grass?’ I wondered. ‘We eat a lot of grass, yes, but also some herbs and other plants that grow between the clumps of grass in this meadow.’ ‘So, no meat at all?’ ‘Not that I’m aware of,’ the cow joked. ‘I can’t swear that I never eat a worm by accident, or a hoverfly….’ ‘That’s not funny!’ Heli squealed from the top of a yellow flower. ‘You’re right,’ the cow mooed. ‘Let’s not disturb the peace in this land of milk and honey!’

After the cow finished her sentence, she lifted her head up and seemed to smell something. ‘Ah, it’s the farmer,’ she said. I looked around but couldn’t see anyone. ‘Are you sure?’ I asked her. ‘Of course!’ she mooed. ‘Our sense of smell is really good. These days it is a bit annoying, because often we smell things from far away places that have nothing to do with our daily life here in this meadow.’ ‘Except for the farmer!’ I said. ‘Yes, you’re right,’ the cow continued, ‘but our sense of smell used to be much more important when we lived in the wild.’ ‘How do you mean?’ I said. ‘Our ancestors, and some of our relatives, used to roam the world in search of grass. They would travel in huge herds, from one wild, natural grassland to another. That’s why it was very useful to be able to smell grass, water and predators from great distances.’ ‘Wouldn’t you like to be wild again?’ I wondered. ‘Sometimes, yes,’ the cow admitted. ‘It would be nice to have a bit more space to explore, and a few more unknowns to deal with. But, on the other hand, we don’t need to worry about anything right now; we’re happy not to meet as many wolves these days!’ ‘Instead you’re meeting people!’ I joked. ‘Yes, and we have mixed feelings about that,’ the cow mooed. ‘A lot of our wild ancestors were shot by them. A good sense of smell didn’t protect them from people with guns!’

‘And you?’ ‘What about me?’ ‘Why did your ancestors survive all the hunting?’ ‘Some of us were caught and tamed,’ the cow explained. My own ancestors were liked because they produced a lot of milk.’ ‘I can believe that!’ I said. ‘Look at that huge udder of yours!’ ‘I know, it’s ridiculous!’ the cow laughed. ‘Even a bit of a liability! Luckily the farmer will be milking us any moment now!’ ‘Every day?’ I wondered. ‘Twice,’ the cow replied. ‘In the morning as well.’ ‘Really?’ I said with disbelief. ‘How can you possibly make so much milk every day?’ ‘Grazing, grazing, digesting, and then chewing it all again!’ ‘That sounds disgusting!’ I said. ‘Why would you chew your food again?’ ‘It’s one way to digest the tough fibres that plants have,’ the cow replied. ‘Which fibres?’ I asked. ‘Plants, like animals, are made of cells,’ the cow explained. But plants are different from us, because their cells are surrounded by fibres, which together form protective cell walls. If I weren’t able to digest those fibres, I’d lose out on a lot of the nutrients that plants contain.’ ‘Do you think I can digest those fibres too?’ I wondered. ‘I don’t think so,’ the cow responded, ‘because you’re probably getting enough nutrients from things like cheese!’ ‘So, what happens to those fibres when we eat them?’ ‘In your case, they’ll probably just pass through you without breaking down, helping the rest of the food move along as well. When I eat plants, the chewed bits will not pass through to the lower parts of my stomach unless they have become very, very small.’ ‘Why not?’ If the chewed bits of plants are still too big, the microbes can’t get to all the fibres, which means that some of the fibres would pass through me without being digested.’ ‘And you don’t want that, because you need the nutrients? ‘Precisely!’ the cow said. ‘I want to digest as much of the plants as I can, so that’s why a lot of what I’ve swallowed will come back up later to be chewed over again.’ ‘It still doesn’t sound great to me,’ I admitted. ‘Oh, I quite enjoy doing it,’ the cow replied. ‘I find that lying down and chewing for hours is very relaxing!’ ‘Hmm, I’ll try to believe you!’ I said.

Suddenly the cow started mooing loudly, and I realised the farmer was getting closer. The cow couldn’t wait to get milked, and started walking towards the other side of the meadow. Realising that Zara would be safe here at this time of day, I felt ready to go home. ‘Come on,’ I said. ‘Let’s go back to Grandpa’s for some dinner.’ Neither Kit nor Heli seemed interested. ‘The night is still young,’ Kit meowed. ‘There will be plenty for me to eat in this meadow.’ ‘For me too,’ Heli droned. ‘This is where your bees must be getting all the nectar for their honey from!’ ‘Are you sure you don’t want to visit the bee hives anymore?’ ‘Yes, I am,’ Heli hummed. ‘Thank you for taking me to theze wonderful meadowz with their deliciouzz flowerzzzzz!’ ‘No problem,’ I said. ‘Take care of yourselves tonight!’ ‘See you in the morning!’ Kit meowed.

I walked back to the sofa alone, thinking about all my adventures of the last two days. When I reached the clearing, I hardly dared to look at the tree stump, knowing it had died shortly after I’d left it this morning. I felt sad again for a moment, but then I remembered the tree’s seedlings, which I had promised to move to a safer place. I quickly walked towards the large, black rock behind which they were supposed to be growing. It took me a while to find them, but when I did, I was glad to see that they looked healthy, and not too damaged by hares! I used my hands to liberate their roots, and carefully carried the seedlings back to the sofa. There, I placed the roots in my plastic lunch bag, and kept them wet with a bit of water from my water bottle. After I had secured the seedlings safely among my other gear, I started up the sofa and soon lifted off.

I wanted to enjoy my last flight of the day to the fullest, so I decided to fly slowly, and look around as much as possible. The trees were rustling in the wind below me, and I soon reached the meadow again. I watched with amazement as the cows galloped around like young calves. ‘We feel so much lighter without our milk!’ my friend mooed. ‘Enjoy your chewing tonight!’ I replied. Towards the end of the meadow I spotted a hare. ‘Be careful, Zara!’ I shouted. ‘The hunter might be around!’ ‘Thank you,’ she squealed. ‘I’ll warn my young too!’ When I passed over the orchard with its blooming apple trees, I spotted the geese and their goslings. The six little ones were following their parents back into the shelter, which meant they would be protected from the fox for at least another night. A few moments later, I was glad to be back home myself. My window was still open from the previous evening, so I circled the house first, to lose some altitude. Then I side-slipped the sofa until it was perfectly aligned with the opened window. Careful to keep my speed just above stalling, I steered the sofa back into my own room, and parked it next to my bed. Realising that dinner wouldn’t be ready for another hour, I collapsed onto my bed for a nap. As I yawned and listened to the birds outside my window, I remembered how this whole wonderful day had started, and drifted, ever so gently, off to sleep.

End