1 Bossy Birds  

 

 

  Willow West Wind woke to the sound of birds singing outside her bedroom window.

  “Morning is here.

 

  Morning is here.

 

  Wake up, Willow.

 

  It’s time for good cheer.”

 

    The birds weren’t singing, Tweet, tweet, tweet, or Chirp, chirp, chirp. They were singing songs that Willow could understand.

  “The sun has come up.

 

  Don’t be a sleepyhead.

 

  It’s time for spring-cleaning,

 

  So get out of bed.”

 

    Willow pulled a quilt over her head and tried to go back to sleep. But the longer she lay in bed, the louder the songs became.

  “Hey there, Willow,

 

  Can you hear what we said?

 

  Get out of bed,

 

  Get out of bed.

 

  We don’t mean to be rude.

 

  We don’t mean to intrude.

 

  But get out of—”

 

    “Okay, okay. Yeesh, what a bunch of bossy birds,” she grumbled. She pushed aside the quilt. “Why can’t anyone around here respect the fact that I’m not a morning person?”

  Willow wasn’t used to birds singing songs. Or mice polishing shoes. Or hedgehogs cooking meals. Where Willow came from, animals acted the way you would expect them to act. But here, at Mother Nature’s cottage, animals did all sorts of strange things.

  Like knock on doors.

  “Good morning,” a squeaky voice called. “The sun has risen, and that means it is time to get up.”

  Willow slid her arms into her pink bathrobe, tied its belt, and then opened the bedroom door. “Can’t I sleep a bit longer?” she asked with a yawn. But no one was there. Then Willow remembered to look down. “Oh, hello,” she said to the mouse who stood on the carpet.

  “Hello,” the mouse said in return. His full name was Theopolis, but he was called Theo, for short. Willow didn’t know how old he was, but his fur was white and he walked with a cane. And he wore a thick pair of glasses on the tip of his long nose. “No time for sleeping,” he told her. “There is much to accomplish today. And, as Mother Nature always says, the early bird catches the worm.”

  “The early birds can have all the worms,” Willow said. “I certainly don’t want them.”

  “We have no time for your crankiness,” the old mouse told her. “Mrs. Hedgehog has prepared a lovely breakfast, and then we shall get to work. Today’s To Do list awaits.” He motioned for Willow to follow him down the hall.

  Willow sighed. She knew that if she didn’t pay attention to the To Do list, it would just keep getting longer and longer. So she followed.

  This was no ordinary hallway, for the walls were covered in ivy vines. Hummingbirds had built nests in the branches. Bright green beetles and shiny red ladybugs peeked out from between leaves. Everything sparkled with dewdrops. The cottage itself had been built in a faraway place called the Quiet Woods. Mother Nature, the caretaker of the woods, was Willow’s grandmother. Mother Nature was very famous, and Willow had heard many stories about her. But Willow lived far away, in the city of New York. She’d never met her grandmother in person. So when a letter had arrived, asking if Willow would come and house-sit while Mother Nature was on vacation, Willow had shouted with glee. Her parents had agreed that she could go, and so here she was, house-sitting for her grandmother. This was the fourth day since she’d arrived, and every day had been busier than the previous one. Which was why she was so tired. And cranky.

  “I’m going to tell those birds to stop singing outside my window,” she mumbled to herself. “They’re very rude.” Then she sniffed. “Ugh. What’s that smell?”

  “That smell is the mail pile,” Theo said. He paused in an open doorway. Willow peeked inside. It was Mother Nature’s office, and sure enough, a large pile of mail sat on the floor.

  “Why does the mail pile smell like fish?” Willow asked, plugging her nose.

  “Because our current mail carrier is a pelican. He carries everything in his mouth—his fishy lunch and his shrimpy snacks, along with the letters he delivers.”

    The letters were all addressed to Mother Nature. A few shrimp tails peeked out between the envelopes. “Are all these letters on the To Do List?” Willow asked with dread. Fishy was her least-favorite scent, along with the scent of stinky feet and old tires.

  “Of course they are on the To Do list. Letters don’t read themselves,” Theo said. “There are fan letters. They want a signed photo of Mother Nature. But there are also letters of complaint. It seems like everyone’s a critic these days.” Then Theo continued toward the kitchen. Willow was glad to leave the stinky mail pile.

  The kitchen, on the other hand, was filled with lovely scents.

  “Good morning, Willow.” Mrs. Hedgehog waved her little paw. She wore a frilly white apron and a matching bonnet. “I made a very special breakfast for you!”

  Willow suddenly felt very awake. Yesterday Mrs. Hedgehog had made strawberry doughnuts. And the day before, she’d made banana pancakes. “Oooh,” Willow said, clasping her hands. “What is it this time?” She imagined all sorts of wonderful things. Crepes with apricot jam. Bagels with cream cheese. Croissants with chocolate.

  “You can’t eat sugar every morning. It’s not healthy for a growing girl,” Mrs. Hedgehog said. Then she held up a platter of brownish lumps.

  Willow frowned. “What are those things?”

  “They are my very favorite thing to eat in the morning,” Mrs. Hedgehog said proudly. “Worm fritters, of course.”