Ivo the Little Owl and the Morning Lullaby

Ivo was a little owl with fluffy grey feathers, round golden eyes, and two small tufts on his head that stood up like tiny ears. He lived with his mother in a snug hollow high up in an old oak tree, at the edge of a quiet green wood.

Ivo was a night owl, like all owls. When the sun went down and the stars came out, he woke up, stretched his wings, and blinked his big eyes. All night long, he and his mother glided between the trees. They listened to the crickets. They watched the moon float across the sky. They said hello to the moths and the hedgehogs and the soft night breeze.

And when the sky began to turn pale and pink, it was bedtime for Ivo.

One morning, Ivo flew home, tired and happy. He snuggled down in the hollow. He tucked his head under his wing. He closed his golden eyes.

Then, tap-tap-tap-tap-tap!

Ivo opened one eye. A woodpecker was knocking on the trunk of the oak tree, right below the hollow.

Ivo closed his eye again. He wriggled deeper into the soft feathers of the nest.

Then, chitter-chatter-chitter-chatter!

Two young squirrels were racing up and down the branches, playing chase and squeaking with laughter.

Then, tweet-tweet-tweedle-tweet!

A whole family of little songbirds landed on the branch just outside. They sang their bright morning song, loud and cheerful, right next to Ivo's door.

Ivo sat up. His feathers puffed out. His tufts stood straight up.

"How can anyone sleep with all this noise?" he grumbled.

He hopped to the edge of the hollow. He took a deep breath. He was ready to shout, "Be QUIET!" as loudly as he could.

But his mother put a soft wing around him.

"Wait, little one," she said. "The woodpecker, the squirrels, and the songbirds are not being noisy to bother you. Morning is their busy time, just as night is ours. They may not even know you are trying to sleep."

Ivo blinked. He had not thought of that.

"What should I do?" he asked.

"Why not ask them kindly?" said his mother. "Friends often help when they are asked in a friendly way."

Ivo thought about it. Shouting felt quicker. But asking kindly felt better inside.

So he fluttered down the trunk to the woodpecker. The woodpecker had a red cap and a busy beak.

"Good morning," said Ivo politely. "My name is Ivo. I live in the hollow up there. I fly all night, and I sleep all day. Your tapping is very good tapping, but it is very close to my bed. Could you tap a little further down the tree, please?"

The woodpecker stopped. "Oh!" she said. "I am so sorry. I did not know anyone was sleeping up there. Of course I can. There are plenty of tasty bugs on the lower branches." And she hopped down the trunk, tap-tap-tapping softly far below.

Next, Ivo flew to the squirrels. They were hanging upside down from a branch, with their bushy tails curled.

"Hello," said Ivo. "Your game looks like great fun. But I am trying to sleep in the hollow above you. Could you play chase in the next tree, please?"

The squirrels looked at each other. "We can play in the chestnut tree!" said one. "It has more branches anyway!" said the other. And off they went, chitter-chattering into the distance.

Last of all, Ivo flew to the family of songbirds. There were five of them, all in a row, with yellow chests and bright little eyes.

Ivo was a bit shy now. "Your song is very beautiful," he said. "But it is very loud, and it is right outside my door. Could you possibly sing somewhere else?"

The smallest songbird tilted her head. "We sing here every morning because this branch gets the first sunshine," she said. "But we do not want to keep you awake."

The songbirds whispered together. Then the mother songbird had an idea.

"What if," she said, "we sing you a different kind of song? A quiet one. A sleepy one. A song to help you dream."

Ivo had never heard of a sleepy song in the morning. "You can do that?" he asked.

"Let us try," said the songbird.

So Ivo flew back up to the hollow. He snuggled into the nest. His mother tucked her wing around him.

Outside, the songbirds began to sing. But this time, they did not sing tweet-tweet-tweedle-tweet. They sang a low, soft song, like water trickling over pebbles. Loo-lee, loo-lee, loo-loo-lay. It was gentle and slow. It sounded like leaves rustling, and warm sunshine, and a breeze that whispered, "Rest now."

Far below, the woodpecker tapped very softly, tap... tap... tap..., like a slow little drum keeping time.

Far away, the squirrels' happy chatter was just a tiny, faraway hum.

Ivo's eyes grew heavy. His tufts drooped. His breathing became slow and deep.

"Thank you," he whispered sleepily.

And then he was asleep, dreaming of silver moonlight and soft clouds.

He slept all day long. He did not wake up once.

That evening, when the sun went down and the first star twinkled, Ivo woke up feeling rested and bright. He stretched his wings and looked outside. The songbirds were getting ready for bed in their little nest on the next branch. They yawned and fluffed their feathers.

Ivo had an idea of his own.

He sat on the branch beside them, very quietly. Then he sang a soft owl song. Hoo-hoo, hoo-hoo, hoooo. It was low and gentle, like the wind in the evening.

The little songbirds smiled sleepy smiles. One by one, they closed their bright eyes.

"Goodnight, morning friends," whispered Ivo.

"Good morning, night friend," the smallest songbird murmured, already half asleep.

And from that day on, the old oak tree had two lullabies. A soft song at sunrise for a little owl. And a soft song at sunset for a family of songbirds.