\u2014Dedicated to all little ears that believe in kindness<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Deep in the oak forest stood a gnarled old oak tree, where a titmouse named Pip made his home. Pip had gray-blue wings and a belly as white as a dollop of butter. He loved nothing more than to perch on the highest branch at dawn and sing a song about dew and sunshine.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Beneath the oak\u2019s roots lay a den built of ferns and soft mud, home to a fox named Fern. Fern\u2019s fur was reddish-brown, with a tuft of white hair at the tip of his tail. His favorite pastime was to crouch at the den\u2019s entrance at dusk, counting the first star to appear in the sky.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Pip and Fern had never spoken to each other.
Because all the birds told Pip, \u201cFoxes eat titmice.\u201d
And all the foxes told Fern, \u201cTitmice are nothing but a snack.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
But Pip noticed that Fern never looked up and bared his teeth while he was singing;
and Fern noticed that Pip never suddenly flew away while he was counting the stars.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
One day, the wind blew especially hard, knocking Pip\u2019s little nest askew. Three newly laid eggs rolled down to the base of the tree, right in front of Fenn\u2019s paws.
Pip hopped frantically from branch to branch, his voice hoarse with panic: \u201cMy babies! My babies!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Finn lowered his head and gently nudged the three plump eggs with his nose, then did something no one would have expected\u2014
Using his two front paws, he cradled the eggs one by one as if they were the most precious berries, supported them with his tail, and climbed step by step up the crooked tree, gently placing them back in Pip\u2019s nest.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Pip was stunned.
He fluttered his wings, picked up the reddest raspberry from the nest, placed it on the edge of a branch, and nudged it toward Fain.
Fain thought for a moment, curled the raspberry up with his tongue, swallowed it, then wagged his tail\u2014it was a fox\u2019s smile.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
From then on, every evening, Pip would sing a newly learned song; every evening, Fenn would sit under the tree, his tail coiled around his paws, listening quietly.
Occasionally, Pip would fly down and perch on the tip of Fenn\u2019s nose to help him pluck a grass seed from behind his ear.
Occasionally, Fenn would raise a paw to shield Pip from a sudden gust of cold wind.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The other animals found this strange.
The owl blinked her big eyes and asked, \u201cWhy aren\u2019t you afraid?\u201d
Pip said, \u201cBecause he reached out his paw first, but he didn\u2019t grab me\u2014he cradled my baby instead.\u201d
Finn said, \u201cBecause she pushed the raspberry toward me first, but she didn\u2019t fly away\u2014she stayed perched on the tip of my nose.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
After that, every summer night, a circle of little animals\u2014little rabbits, little shrews, little hedgehogs\u2014would gather under the old oak tree.
Pip stood on top of Fain\u2019s head, and Fain lay flat so everyone could see.
After Pip finished singing, Fain would tell a story in a deep voice, and the story always began:<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cOnce upon a time, there was a titmouse and a fox who didn\u2019t know the word \u2018impossible\u2019 existed in the world\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
As the little animals slowly drifted off to sleep, Pip would gently peck at Fenn\u2019s ear, and Fenn would blink softly.
Moonlight streamed down, and the shadow of the Crooked-Neck Tree fell just over the two of them, like a gentle embrace.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
And the next morning, Pip sang as usual, and Fain counted the stars as usual.
But deep down, they both knew\u2014
The best thing in the world isn\u2019t to eat each other, but to listen to each other until the end.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Good night, Little Ears.
May you, too, meet someone willing to hold your precious self close.
Even if he\u2019s a fox, and you\u2019re a titmouse.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
The Titmouse and the Fox<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":488,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_acf_changed":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[15],"tags":[21,18],"class_list":["post-486","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-children","tag-children","tag-story"],"acf":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/storyrecyclebin.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/486","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/storyrecyclebin.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/storyrecyclebin.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/storyrecyclebin.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/storyrecyclebin.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=486"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/storyrecyclebin.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/486\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":489,"href":"https:\/\/storyrecyclebin.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/486\/revisions\/489"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/storyrecyclebin.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/488"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/storyrecyclebin.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=486"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/storyrecyclebin.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=486"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/storyrecyclebin.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=486"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}