It was the dead of winter in the Glen, when the world was wrapped in frost and all was still except for the whisper of the wind and the creak of bare branches. Rabbit sat snuggled in her burrow, a thick scarf wound snugly around her neck and a steaming cup of elderflower tea cradled in her paws. Her little ones—bright-eyed and full of questions—were gathered around her feet.
“Tell us a story, Rabbit!” one of them begged, twitching his ears excitedly.
Rabbit sipped her tea, her whiskers twitching thoughtfully. “Ah,” she said, settling back into her chair. “Well then, I’ll tell you about how the Grand Oak became hollow, but you must listen carefully, for it is a tale older than the frost on the ferns.”
The little ones nodded solemnly, their ears upright and attentive. Outside, the wind howled around the burrow, as if it, too, wanted to hear the story.
“Long ago,” Rabbit began, her voice rich and warm, “when the world was young and the trees were still learning how to grow, there stood a great oak in the heart of the Glen. It wasn’t hollow back then, oh no! It was taller than the tallest hill and broader than the sky at sunset. Its branches were so full of leaves that the birds had to squabble over which branch they’d build their nests on. And its trunk—well, that trunk was so solid and proud that even the wind, fierce as it was, could only whistle around it like a naughty child who couldn’t get its way.”
The little ones giggled at the idea of the wind being told off, and Rabbit smiled.
“Now,” she continued, “back in those days, the Grand Oak was not only the strongest tree, but also the wisest. The animals came to it with all their questions. The robins asked where to find the juiciest worms. The deer asked where the tastiest moss grew. Even the clever foxes, who thought they knew everything, would sometimes sidle up to the oak and ask, in a casual sort of way, what it thought about the weather.”
“And did the oak answer them?” one of the little ones whispered.
“Oh, it did indeed,” Rabbit replied, nodding. “But it answered in its own slow, tree-like way. You see, trees are not in a hurry like we rabbits are. The oak would sway its branches thoughtfully and let its leaves rustle until the animals figured out the answers for themselves. That was its wisdom—it made you think.”
She paused, letting the little ones wonder about this for a moment. Then she leant in closer, her voice dropping to a hushed tone. “But then, one winter, something extraordinary happened. It was the coldest winter anyone had ever known. The frost was so thick that it turned the streams to glass, and the snow piled so high that even the tallest deer couldn’t see over it. The animals of the Glen were frightened. They huddled together and whispered, ‘What if the frost never melts? What if the spring never comes back?’”
The little ones gasped, their eyes wide.
“Well,” Rabbit continued, “the Grand Oak heard their worries. It stood there in the snow, strong and silent, listening as the animals begged it for help. And do you know what it did?”
The little ones shook their heads eagerly.
“It opened its heart,” Rabbit said, her voice full of wonder. “Right there in the middle of winter, the Grand Oak let its great trunk split open, and inside was the warmest, cosiest hollow you could ever imagine. The bats fluttered in first, wrapping themselves in its bark. The birds nestled into the little nooks and crannies. The squirrels tucked their acorns into its hollows, and even the insects scurried in to escape the cold. The Grand Oak gave them all a home.”
“But wasn’t it cold without its heartwood?” one of the little ones asked, tilting her head.
“Oh, it was,” Rabbit admitted, nodding gravely. “The Grand Oak shivered in the frost, and the wind howled through its hollow trunk. But it never closed itself up, not even when the frost bit at its roots. ‘My strength is for all,’ the oak said to the animals. ‘Let me keep you safe.’ And so, winter after winter, the Grand Oak stayed open and hollow, giving shelter to anyone who needed it.”
Rabbit paused, her eyes twinkling. “And do you know what happened then?”
The little ones leant closer, their noses quivering. “What?”
“Well,” Rabbit said with a smile, “because the Grand Oak gave so much, it received just as much in return. Its hollow became the richest, busiest place in the Glen. Beetles turned its fallen wood into a feast for the soil. Mushrooms sprang up like tiny umbrellas, feeding the forest. Birds sang songs that lifted everyone’s spirits, and bats kept everyone company at night. The Grand Oak wasn’t just a tree anymore—it was a whole world, full of life and laughter.”
The little ones sighed happily, imagining the bustling life inside the hollow oak.
“And that,” Rabbit concluded, “is why the Grand Oak is hollow to this day. It may look gnarled and ancient, but it’s stronger than you think. Its hollow trunk holds more life than ever, and it still watches over the Glen, keeping everyone safe.”
Outside, the wind quieted, as if content with the story. Rabbit sipped her tea and looked at her little ones. “So, the next time you see an old tree, don’t think it’s just an old tree. It might just be the heart of the whole forest.”
The little ones nodded solemnly, their eyes shining with wonder. And as the winter night deepened, Rabbit tucked them into bed, the story of the Grand Oak warming their dreams like the promise of spring.
"And so, Best Beloveds, that is the story of the Grand Oak—a story of giving and growing, of love shared and life renewed. Whether you are visiting the Glen for the very first time or you've been here many times before, know this: you are always welcome beneath its branches, just as you are here with me."
Rabbit's nose twitched as she smiled warmly. "Thank you for stopping by to listen today. Your company makes the Glen brighter, and your hearts—oh, your hearts—are as precious as any tree in this forest. Whether you’ve come from near or far, for the first time or the hundredth, you are part of this story now."
She gave a little nod, as if to tuck the moment into place. "Now, go rest and dream sweet dreams, and know that the Glen will always be here, waiting to welcome you home. Come back tomorrow, won’t you? I’ll have another tale ready, warm and waiting, just for you."
And with that, Rabbit tipped her head, her ears brushing the soft winter air, and hopped away into the shadows of the Glen, leaving a cosy glow in the hearts of all who had gathered to hear her words.