Pippa and the Talking Tree

The Oldest Tree in the Wood

At the edge of Pippa's village stood a wood, and at the heart of the wood stood an oak tree so old and so huge that the children called it the Giant. Its trunk was wider than three children holding hands, and its branches reached up like great green arms.

Pippa loved that tree. She visited it every day after school, climbed into the curve of its lowest branch, and told it about her day — about spelling tests, and her little brother, and the cloud that had looked exactly like a dog.

She never expected the tree to answer.

A Voice Among the Leaves

But one breezy afternoon, as Pippa said, "Hello, Giant," a deep, gentle, creaky voice rustled down through the leaves.

"Hello, little one," it said. "I have been listening to your stories for a long, long time. It is nice to finally say hello back."

Pippa nearly fell off the branch. "You — you can talk?"

"Of course," chuckled the tree. "Trees are very good talkers. We simply talk slowly. Most people are far too busy to listen long enough to hear us."

Pippa was not too busy. She stayed until the sun went down, listening to the oldest tree in the wood.

Days of Listening

After that, Pippa and the tree talked every day. The tree had seen a hundred springs and a hundred winters. It knew which mushrooms were safe, where the foxes hid their cubs, and how to tell rain was coming from the smell of the air.

But the tree taught Pippa something else, too. "You are a wonderful talker," it told her one day. "But listening is a gift as well. When you listen — really listen — you learn things you could never learn by speaking. The wind, the birds, your friends, your own heart: they all have something to say."

So Pippa practised listening. And she found the tree was right. She heard the woodpecker's secret drumming, and she noticed when her little brother was sad before he even said a word.

The Tree Grows Sad

Then, one autumn morning, Pippa arrived to find the tree's leaves drooping and dull. Its voice was thin and tired.

"What's wrong, Giant?" she asked, worried.

"I am thirsty, little one," the tree whispered. "The autumn storms knocked branches into the stream, and now the water cannot reach my roots. Without water, even an old tree grows weak."

Pippa looked. Sure enough, the little stream that once curled around the roots was choked with fallen branches and mud. The water had been pushed away.

Pippa Lends a Hand

Pippa did not waste a moment. She rolled up her sleeves and got to work. She pulled the heavy branches out of the stream one by one. She scooped away the mud with an old bucket. It was hard, muddy, tiring work, and it took the whole afternoon — but Pippa did not stop.

At last, with a happy gurgle, the stream broke free and went rushing back to the oak's thirsty roots. Glug, glug, glug.

She came back the next day, and the next. Bit by bit, the tree's leaves grew bright and green again. Its creaky voice grew strong and warm.

"Thank you, Pippa," it said. "You listened when I needed help, and then you acted. That is the kindest thing a friend can do."

Friends for a Hundred Years

Pippa and the Giant stayed friends for years and years. She told it her stories, and it told her its slow, wise secrets. And whenever the wood needed caring for — a thirsty stream, a fallen nest, a lost cub — Pippa was there, because she had learned to listen, and listening had taught her to care.

"You know," the old tree said one quiet evening, "I think I shall keep talking for another hundred years — as long as there are children like you to listen."

---

The moral: Listening is as important as talking, and caring for nature means nature can keep caring for us.

More stories to read: meet a kind giant in The Friendly Dragon or crack a case in The Great Playground Mystery.