Pip and the Fencepost Surprise — Before the sun cleared the hills, Pip hopped along the fence rail, tapping each board with one claw: tick, tock, thunk. Read the full story →
Before the sun cleared the hills, Pip hopped along the fence rail, tapping each board with one claw: tick, tock, thunk. He wanted to know why the morning echo sounded like it had hiccups. The barn smelled of hay and sleepy cows, the farmhouse windows blinked gold, and Pip’s tail feathers swished like broom bristles as he leaned toward the hollow post.
“Answer me, fence!” he crowed. His cock-a-doodle-doo bounced off the silo, rolled past the stones, and came back wearing a tiny squeak. Pip puffed up. That was not a proper echo. He peered at the knot in the post, expecting wind, or maybe a rude cricket.
Out popped a striped field mouse with a thimble helmet and a sunflower seed megaphone. “Too loud?” she asked. Inside the post, her cousins were practicing the world’s smallest sunrise parade. Pip laughed so hard his next crow came out wobbly. From then on, every dawn began with Pip’s big call and the mice’s squeaky encore; next time you spot that round knot in the fence, dare it to answer: tick, tock, thunk.
