Nella’s Nesting Ribbon — Under the pale birches, Nella tucked a faded blue ribbon under her wing and gathered twigs for her first alphabet nest. Read the full story →
Under the pale birches, Nella tucked a faded blue ribbon under her wing and gathered twigs for her first alphabet nest. The ribbon was only as wide as a blade of grass, but it smelled faintly of rain and her mother’s feathers, and Nella touched it whenever the branches clicked too loudly. She wanted the nest ready before the three moon-warm eggs chilled in the moss. The trouble was the twigs kept sliding apart with a dry skritch, skritch, as if the ground itself was saying no.
A breeze wandered through the hollow and bent the tall letter post beside her. Nella swallowed. “Stay, please,” she whispered, though her voice came out small as a seed. Then she slid the blue ribbon through the crossing sticks, around the tall post, and back beneath the round little letter that leaned nearby. The twigs stopped slipping. The eggs settled into a hush so gentle she could hear beetles tapping under bark.
By morning, every nest-maker in the birches had copied Nella’s crossing loop: a tall side, a soft curve, and a woven middle to hold what was precious. Ever since, N has belonged to nests, needles of twig and leaf, and small courage tied tight as a faded blue ribbon.
