The Old Oak Tree

Once there was an old, old oak tree. It was tall and broad; its branches were twisted and gnarled; its bark was bumpy and knotted.

It stood in the middle of a small forest, which the animals who lived there called simply  “The Forest”. The old oak was by far the biggest and tallest tree in the forest. The animals called it simply “The Oak Tree”. It had been there as long as any of them could remember. It had been there as long as their parents, grandparents and great grandparents could remember.

The oak tree looked after the animals of the forest. Its branches provided shelter from the rain in spring and the heat in summer. Its fallen leaves kept the earth warn and lined the burrows and nests of the animals in autumn. Its acorns fed the chipmunks and squirrels through the cold winters.

In the high branches of the oak tree, an old Great Horned Owl had found a nest and moved in, while, a little lower, a starling had made her nest and raised her chicks, A chipmunk lived in a hollow near the base of the tree, which she filled with nuts and acorns to last the winter. And, amongst the oak tree’s roots, a fox made a den for herself and her family of cubs.

The animals would not hunt or chase each other beneath the branches of the old oak tree, for they knew it was a special place. They would walk slowly by, greet each other politely, and sometimes would nod to the oak tree. Even the fox would stop to say “good evening” to the smaller animals as she left for a night’s hunting.

The oak tree’s roots spread far and wide throughout the forest, for they had had many years in which to grow and spread. Through them the oak could sense much of what went on in the forest. In the spring it would feel snow melting, and the new life of the young plants that burst from the ground. In summer it would feel the earth dry and crack. In autumn it felt the warm leaves cover the ground, and the paws of the animals as they scurried back and forth, gathering food for the winter. And in winter, as a blanket of snow covered the ground, it felt the cold and the stillness that spread throughout the forest.

And so the years passed. The oak tree became older still, and, in its way, it thought and considered and pondered, until one day, as summer was coming to an end and the leaves of the forest turned to red and brown and gold, it thought to itself “It is time”.

The oak tree dropped a single acorn in front of the fox’s den. “Please take this acorn,” it said to the fox, “and plant it at the edge of the forest where the stream runs.”

The fox was proud to be asked to do such an important task. She took the acorn gently in her mouth and set out, with her tail held high.

She had been walking for some time when the fox picked up the scent of a young rabbit, and stopped, trying to decide what to do. “If I leave the acorn here the squirrels will get it,” she thought. “But I need to find food for my cubs. If I miss the rabbit I might not get another chance.”

Just then the starling landed on the branches of a tree, just above the fox. “What are you doing?” she chirped. The fox explained about the acorn she had promised to plant, and the rabbit she needed to hunt. “I can take it,” said the starling. “I’ll fly it there”.

The starling swooped down, picked up the acorn in her claws and headed out to the edge of the forest where stream bubbled and burbled. Landing by the banks of the stream, she started to scrape and peck at the earth.

The chipmunk appeared, emerging from the undergrowth, and asked the starling what she was doing. “I’m trying to dig a hole for this acorn,” she said, and explained about the old oak tree and the fox.

“Let me help,” said the chipmunk Together they dug a small hole, placed the acorn in in it, and covered it with earth. Then the two returned to the old oak tree together.

Soon enough winter followed the autumn, and soft snow covered the ground. All the forest seemed to sleep, awaiting the arrival of spring. The snow melted, and the forest creatures emerged from their winter’s sleep.

The horned owl, flying over the edge of the forest, saw the leaves or a young oak sapling, and returned to the old oak to tell it what she’d seen. The oak felt content.

As the year passed the owl continued to fly out to the edge of the forest, and report back. The old oak listened to all that the owl told it, and it reached out with its roots towards the sapling, and it waited.  By the time winter came again, the young oak was already as tall as the deer that would come to drink from the stream.

The following spring, the young oak was taller still, and started to reach out with its own roots, exploring and searching. The old oak tree waited. A small robin landed on the young oak’s topmost branches  and sang a song to welcome the spring.

As the spring turned to summer, and the summer to autumn, the young oak’s roots spread further until, just before the first flakes of winter snow started to fall, they touched and entwined with the roots of the old oak tree. It seemed as if a change came over the old oak, as if it had found something it had been waiting for a long time.

Throughout the winter the old oak told stories of the forest; of the plants, and the bees that carried pollen from one flower to the next; of all the animals from the mighty stag that had once run through the forest, to the tiniest beetles; and of the eb and flow of the seasons. The young sapling seemed to absorb these stories, as it absorbed the water and food from the earth. When spring came again, it seemed to those who saw it, that the young oak stood taller and straighter than before, as if it had a purpose now, and knew what must be.

And so the years passed, the forest spread, and the young oak tree grew tall and broad. In time it became taller than all the surrounding trees. One of the cubs of the old fox decided to build her den amongst its roots, and there raised her own cubs. A hawk built a nest in the high branches, and, when it left, a young great horned owl took up residence in its place.

Soon enough the animals became used to having two oak trees to look after the forest, sheltering them from the rains of spring and the heat of summer, giving them warm leaves to line their nests in autumn, and acorns to feed them through the winter. Perhaps none could remember a time when there was just one oak tree.

But still, the animals would always call the oak that grew by the stream “The New Oak Tree”. To them the older, gnarled and knotted tree that stood deep in the center of the forest was always simply “The Oak Tree”.