An owl bedtime story: Ollie and the quiet wood

Ages 3 to 7 · 4 min read aloud

Ollie and the Quiet Wood

In the middle of Whispering Wood stood an old oak tree. High up in that oak, in a round little hollow, lived an owl called Ollie. Ollie had soft grey feathers, a small curved beak and a special gift: his eyes could shine like two little lanterns.

Every evening, as the sun slipped behind the hills, Ollie stretched out his wings. ‘Time for my rounds,’ he would say. Because Ollie was the night watchman of the wood. He made sure everyone was safely home before it grew properly dark.

That evening he flew first to the rabbit burrow. The baby rabbits were already curled up together like a warm, fluffy ball. ‘Goodnight, little rabbits,’ Ollie whispered. One ear twitched, and then all was still.

Next he flew over the clearing. A young deer stood there with her mother in the long grass. ‘Goodnight, deer,’ said Ollie. The little deer blinked her long eyelashes and lay down in the soft moss.

By the old tree stump Ollie heard a tiny voice. ‘Hello? Is anyone there?’ It was Millie, the smallest field mouse in the wood. ‘I picked berries for too long,’ she squeaked. ‘And now it’s so dark I can’t see my burrow.’

‘Don’t worry,’ said Ollie. He let his eyes glow softly, warm and golden. All at once Millie could see the path again, every pebble and every leaf. ‘Walk along beside me,’ said Ollie. He flew slowly above her, so she always had light.

They went past the ferns, past the stream that babbled quietly, and past the toadstools standing in the grass like tiny umbrellas. There, under the roots of a birch tree, Millie saw her front door. ‘My house!’ she squeaked happily.

Millie gave Ollie a berry to say thank you. Then she crept into her burrow, pulled a leaf over herself and gave an enormous yawn. ‘Goodnight, Ollie,’ she said. ‘Goodnight, Millie,’ said Ollie. ‘Sleep well.’

Ollie flew back towards the old oak. On the way he took one last look around. The rabbits were asleep. The deer were asleep. Millie was asleep. Even the wind had settled down. The whole of Whispering Wood was quiet.

Ollie perched on his branch and looked up. There was the moon, round and silver. ‘Ollie,’ said the moon softly, ‘you’ve done a lovely job. Everyone is safe. Tonight I will watch over the wood. You can rest now.’

Ollie nodded slowly. He let the light in his eyes grow softer and softer. From gold to amber, from amber to one tiny glowing dot. He fluffed up his feathers and tucked himself into his round hollow.

The hollow was warm and dry. Ollie tucked his head under his wing. Outside, the moon shone on the trees, and the stars kept watch as well. Ollie breathed in and out, in and out. Goodnight, Ollie. Goodnight, quiet wood. Goodnight.