The Beech Tree

Every day, when the weather was fine, Jane liked to walk down the road to the park. There were lots of things to do in the park; swings, roundabouts, and slides. Often, she would play with her friends for hours, but sometimes she just liked to walk to the edge of the park where the beech trees grew. There, she could watch the squirrels and birds with no interruptions.

On one side of the park, the sun was shining. There was hardly any breeze, so she went to see what the squirrels were up to because she was very hot, and she had tired of playing and running about. So she sat down in the long grass in the shade of a large beech tree. The sounds of distant traffic mingled with the shouts of her friends playing on the other side of the park. Gradually, she could hear the faint rustling of leaves and the scampering of squirrels.

They seemed to be interested in something on the ground a little way from her, so she went to investigate. Of course, as soon as she moved, they all ran away, but there was a faint sound which seemed to come from under the ground. Soon, she found a signpost lying on the ground and a deep hole which workmen had made to put it in. The sound came from the bottom of the hole. Kneeling down, she put her ear over the hole and listened. Sure enough, the sound was of a distressed squirrel, splashing frantically in the water at the bottom of the hole.

Jane reached down as far as her arm could go, but the hole was too deep.

‘What can I do?’ she said, but there was no one to hear. Searching around the tree, she found a small dead branch and tried to push it down the hole, but the end was too crooked. She snapped the branch in half and carefully lowered the piece down towards the frantic squirrel. He caught hold of the end of the branch, but in doing so, pulled it out of her grasp.

Jane breathed a sigh of relief; the squirrel was out of the water, but could still not climb out. She ran across the park toward the playground. Surely there would be someone there who could rescue the squirrel? On her way, she passed the old gentleman who walked his dog in the park every day. By the time she reached the swings, all her friends had gone home.

It must be late, she thought, but how could she go home and leave the squirrel?

The old gentleman followed his dog as it went to investigate the sound made by the squirrel. Of course, he could not hear its cries, but understood what the problem was. He pulled the dog away and carried on with his walk, yet all the time, wondering what to do. Then he saw Jane on the other side of the park, breaking off some long reeds. He guessed that she was making something to rescue whatever was trapped in the hole. He wished that he could thank her out loud but people could not usually understand him, and he could not hear them.

He reached into his pocket and took out a pencil and a scrap of paper. Quickly, he wrote: FOR THE GIRL WHO LOVES ANIMALS. He wrote it in large letters, not because he thought she could not read very well, but because his hands were too old and shaky to write in any other way. Next, he reached into an inside pocket, and carefully retrieved a small object. He held it shakily in his hand for a few moments, gazing at it through happy, distant memories. Then he hastily wrapped it in the scrap of paper and hurried back to the hole in the ground.

Jane struggled back to where the squirrel was trapped, carrying her bundle of reeds, stopping every now and again to pick up the ones that she had dropped. She did not see the old man stoop and place the scrap of paper by the hole. Soon she was sitting down, making a tiny ladder from reeds, just as her mother had shown her how to make macramé.

It took her longer than she expected to construct the miniature ladder, but eventually it was long enough to reach to the bottom of the hole, and she carefully lowered it towards the frightened animal. Quick as a flash, the squirrel climbed up its little escape ladder and scampered off to join his family. It was then that Jane saw the scrap of paper. She picked it up, unwrapped it, and read the message. Then she gazed at the small, gold brooch she found inside. It was in the shape of a flower with three tiny diamonds, set in like drops of sparkling dew.

She knew that she should have been home by now. The sun was setting and the breeze was now quite strong. It clutched at the scrap of paper and snatched it out of her hand. She cried out, reached for it, missed, then watched as it fluttered down to disappear into the hole. What could she do now? She’d been warned not to accept gifts from strangers, and she only knew the old gentleman by sight. When she picked up the brooch, she decided to hide the gift in a crevice in the beech tree and think about what to do with it later.

No sooner had she done this, and started on her way home, that a commotion made her look back. A squirrel had found the brooch and was taking it up to the top of the tree.

Well, thought Jane, I won’t have to make any excuses now. There is nothing to show anybody.

All this happened some time ago, but Jane still walks around the old beech tree every chance she can, reaching up towards the first branch. Wondering when she will be tall enough to grasp it and climb up to claim her gift.