In a blooming forest where flowers chuckled cheerfully and trees whispered delightful secrets, there lived a squirrel named Sandy. Now, Sandy wasn’t just any squirrel; she had a magical gift. From the time she was a tiny baby squirrel, she could sing beautiful songs that made everyone smile and dance.
Every morning, she would perch upon her favorite branch of the Singing Tree and sing sweetly, filling the air with joy. Branches would sway, butterflies would twirl in the sky, and even the grumpy old Badger would smile and tap his feet when she sang.
One sunny day, Sandy had planned a concert with her friends, the Robins, who would chirp and trill along with her. She practiced and practiced—her favorite song about the strawberry jam she had discovered last summer. “Strawberry jam on my little paw/what a lovely sticky picture it saw!” But as luck would have it, when the day of the concert arrived, not a sound came out of her mouth. Sandy was heartbroken and scurried off to her cozy nest, hiding there all day.
Her friends worried and chirped outside her door. “Sandy, dear! Come and sing!”
“Oh, kind friends,” Sandy replied with a sad voice, “It seems my voice has gone away. I cannot sing!”
But the Robins would not give up. The next morning, they piled moss outside her door and asked her to nest on top of it, just for that one day. So Sandy came out and settled herself on the soft nest for her first real concert.
Twelve friends gathered, and Sandy looked at each worried face. She took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and began to sing. To her surprise, her voice floated out like sparkling sunshine. At first softly, then shining brighter and brighter, until even the grumpy Badger had to wave his paw in the air and dance!
But then, oh dreadful moment! For just when she reached the most wonderful part of her song, “what a lovely sticky picture it saw,” her little foot slid from the moss, and there was she, rocking dangerously far over the edge of the nest!
Down, down she would have gone, had not a pair of loving wings flown under her and carried her up to the tree to the applause of all her friends.
“Sandy, Sandy! Now you can sing, you can indeed!” they chirped. Sandy blushed, ashamed she had ever doubted her dear little voice. “Yes,” she said joyfully, “I will sing, I will sing!” and up went the sweet little hand-caught song, as the wood on the hill said its evening hymn, beyond the clouds and stars.
“Now,” said Sandy, “I will always sing, even if I am singing to myself!” The birds praised her gladness, the badger sprang a lively jig, and so they all went to bed.
When morning broke, Sandy sat again upon the Singing Tree and began to sing, for she understood, now, that the joy of her beautiful voice was to be shared.