The Boy and the Woodpecker

The Boy and the Woodpecker Çınar BİBER

Every morning, before breakfast, the boy pulled on his mustard-yellow rain jacket and his red rubber boots. He slung his green canvas satchel over his shoulder and hung his small binoculars around his neck. Then he tiptoed out into the green, whispering forest. He had warm light-brown skin, messy darkbrown hair, and freckles across his nose. The forest was his favorite place in the whole wide world. 1

The boy loved watching woodland birds. He knew where the robins splashed and where the wrens hid. But his very favorite bird was the busy woodpecker with the bright crimson cap. Every day it clung upright to a trunk, tap-tap-tapping away. Its black and white barred feathers flashed in the sunlight. The boy watched through his binoculars and smiled his gaptoothed smile. 2

Grandma Rose said the oldest trees were the best trees of all. She had deep brown skin, silver curly hair in a loose bun, and round glasses that slid down her nose. "Old trees are full of stories," she said, tapping her wooden walking stick. The boy listened with his round hazel eyes wide. He wanted to hear every story the forest had to tell. 3

One bright morning, the woodpecker flew to a tall, wrinkled old tree. It gripped the bark with its stiff tail feathers and pecked a round hole, bit by bit. Chips flew like tiny snowflakes. The boy crouched behind a fern and held his breath. Tap, tap, tap! The busy bird worked and worked without stopping. What was it building up there? 4

Day after day, the boy came back to watch. The woodpecker dug deeper and deeper into the soft old wood. Soon there was a snug round hole, just the right size for a nest. The bird disappeared inside and came out again, again and again. The boy wrote in his notebook: A woodpecker makes a hole for its nest. His heart thumped with excitement. 5

Then one afternoon, something surprising happened. A cheeky squirrel with russet-orange fur and a big bushy tail peeked out of the woodpecker's hole. It twitched its tufted ears and chattered at the boy. The woodpecker's hole was now a squirrel's home! The boy blinked and stared. How many animals used these holes? He had to find out. 6

The boy walked slowly through the forest, checking every old tree. He found a hole where tiny owls blinked sleepy eyes. He found a hole where bees hummed softly. He found a hole where a little bat hung upside down, fast asleep. Each hole was a doorway, and each doorway held a small, quiet life. 7

He hurried home to Grandma Rose, his red rubber boots splashing in puddles. "The woodpecker's holes are homes for everyone!" he said, words tumbling out. Grandma Rose smiled her warm smile. "Old trees are apartment houses for the forest," she said. "One hole can shelter many creatures over many years." The boy's freckled face glowed with wonder. 8

That night, the boy thought and thought. He wanted everyone to know what he had learned. He wanted them to see that an old tree is not just wood and bark. It is a whole busy neighborhood of wildlife. "I will make a display," he told Grandma Rose. "A cheerful one, with pictures and stories!" She clapped her hands together. 9

The next day they gathered everything they needed. The boy drew the woodpecker with its bright crimson cap, clinging to a trunk. He drew the squirrel peeking from a hole, and the owls, and the bees. Grandma Rose helped him cut and paste and paint. Their table grew bright with colors and facts and tiny paper trees. 10

They set up the display in the village hall, where everyone came to see. The boy stood beside it in his mustard-yellow jacket, holding his binoculars. "Old trees are important homes," he said, a little nervous and a lot proud. "Woodpeckers make the holes, and other animals use them too." People leaned in close to look. 11

A farmer nodded slowly. "I never knew that," he said. A little girl pointed at the paper squirrel and giggled. Grandma Rose squeezed the boy's hand. Everyone who saw the display began to understand. Old trees were not just old. They were full of life, and they helped many forest creatures find a safe, warm place to rest. 12

The boy felt a warm glow spread all the way to his red rubber boots. He had shared what he learned, and the forest had new friends. "We must protect the old trees," he said. "They protect everyone else." Grandma Rose nodded and tapped her walking stick softly. The whole hall clapped and cheered for the boy and his cheerful display. 13

After that, the boy kept watching his woodland birds every single day. The woodpecker still tapped and drilled, busy as ever. The squirrel still peeked from its hole, cheeky and quick. And the old trees still stood tall and kind, full of hidden doorways. The boy smiled his gap-toothed smile. There was always more to discover. 14

Grandma Rose told him one more story as they walked home. "Every old tree is a gift," she said. "It gives homes to wildlife, and it teaches us to be patient and kind." The boy held her hand and listened. The forest rustled softly around them, like a friendly hello. He felt proud to help protect it.