Pip and the Giggling Gills — Under a peeling birch log, Pip pressed one pale cap close to the wood and listened for the morning whisper. Read the full story →
Under a peeling birch log, Pip pressed one pale cap close to the wood and listened for the morning whisper. The bark smelled like rain and paper, and the ferns around him tickled the air with soft shiver-shiver sounds. Pip had promised himself he would catch three birch words before noon, then repeat them backward just to see what happened.
The first word sounded like “mrrff.” The second sounded like “plonk.” The third exploded into a squeaky “Ahem!” Pip’s gills fluttered. From underneath his lowest cap, a striped beetle popped out wearing a hat made of lichen. “Kindly stop eavesdropping on my rehearsal,” she said. “I am practicing jokes for termites.”
Pip forgot all about backward words. The birch had not been whispering; it had been carrying beetle jokes through every fold and groove. Soon Pip tapped his gills like a tiny drumroll while the beetle bowed to the ferns. Next time you spot those crowded gills, listen closely—one of them may still be holding the giggle that began under a peeling birch log.
