Father Oak

Once upon a time in a land just beyond the veil, a grand and ancient oak tree lived. Woodland creatures far and wide called this tree, Father Oak.

The old oak was firmly rooted adjacent a dense woodland. Father Oak was the central point in this enchanted region; from sleeping bats to busy squirrels, it was home, sustenance and protection for many creatures with acorns aplenty, perfect nesting branches and snug hollows for fur and feathered hosts.

One late August evening, when the air was thick and hot, and the woodland creatures were feeling dreamy and a little lazy, a dark cloud rolled in from the north, stretching upward and engulfing the blue sky within minutes. The blue jays and ravens were the first to notice the fat rain drops falling from the grey sky. They called out as they took flight, “A storm is coming! Take cover! A storm is near!”, their cries pierced the quiet twilight. Gusts of wind swirled through the dense woodland and across the meadow, rustling the summer-parched meadow grasses. A mighty crack of thunder sounded, followed by a burst of lightning that lit up the twilit sky with a flash of purply pink.

The summer lightning storm was in full force, sending grumbling foxes to their dens and silencing the chatty birds. The dry earth thirstily lapped up the rainwater. The forest animals hunkered down in their homes, keeping themselves busy by playing cards, supping tea, and taking naps, as woodland creatures do. When the fat rain drops gave way to a light sprinkling, the sun had already gone to bed and the silver moon was high over the horizon. The creatures who keep busy by daylight were finishing their supper, and the nocturnal types were heading out to slink about in the inky darkness.

The dampened night air smelled of wet earth, having replaced the thick dryness of the day. The dazzling thunder and lightning show was in its last moments, casting streaks and bolts of lightning in all directions like a starburst. One bolt struck a standing deadwood on the far side of meadow, instantly setting it aflame. Father Oak was not surprised, having seen such a thing many times over the millennia. He exhaled in relief that the bats who lived in the deadwood were out foraging for bugs. With another deep breath, keeping an eye on the low flames crawling across the meadow toward him, he gently alerted the squirrels, who were squabbling over the rules of blackjack, and warned the oak mice who were telling stories over a cup of hot cocoa. The blue jays, being a savvy lot, took off for the woodlands the second the lightning struck. The starlings were second to take flight. The owl family and the lone, red-tailed hawk waited in the high branches, keeping an eye on the spreading flame.

Father Oak called out, “Go into the woodlands. Don’t stop until you reach the lake.”

“We don’t want to leave you!”, cried the grey squirrel.

“How will you survive?” wondered the mother opossum and her babies. The oak mice family tittered nervously as they packed up their cards and prepared to leave. “Go now!” urged Father Oak, and off they went, running or flying as fast as they could. “I’ll be here with you, as before, tucked into this hollow.” came a firm and steady voice from the ground. Father Oak recognized the voice of his friend, the oak snake.

The grass crackled as it burned with a faint hiss and sizzle. The fire pranced over clumps of dampened earth, leaping from one patch of dried vegetation to another. As the fire approached Father Oak, he calmly waited. The force of the fire-winds blew back his branches, outer leaves sparked with flames, the feathery grey smoke hovered and danced around Father Oak. As sturdy and steady as ever, Father Oak stood his ground as the fire passed. He was very familiar with elemental fire and knew the essential transformation its destruction will bring. Fire-medicine is well known to all ancient beings in the enchanted woodland. The dried vegetation releases nitrogen, sulfur, phosphorus and carbon as it burns, nourishing the earth and plants, which in turn nourishes woodland life. But first, the disruption and pain of the fiery transition.

And so, Father Oak stood his ground and waited. By and by, the fire fizzled out near the lake, and in time, the woodland creatures that depended on Father Oak returned. The burns and scars endured during the blaze were eventually healed by the sun and his large underground root system. The root collar buds that were safely shielded in the soil during the fire sprouted new saplings. Father Oak’s family was growing.

By the time winter came, the woodland creatures had rebuilt and resettled into their homes in and around Father Oak. The oak mice family returned with more children, the red-tailed hawk rebuilt her nest in the upper branches. The grey squirrel and chipmunk families stocked up on acorns. The opossum family happily munched on ticks and fruit. The bats found new hollows and deadwoods to call home. The old, oak snake never left his friend’s side. The giving life-force of Father Oak remained intact. For eons and generations to come, stories of Father Oak’s strength and endurance were told in the tiny homes of the woodland creatures. His longevity was unsurpassed. Father Oak’s example of consistent stability helped foster honesty and justice in the enchanted community. His fortitude became an enduring symbol of strength.

As time ticked by, Father Oak’s family grew. The oak roots stretched beyond the veil, reaching the fertile soil of Mother Earth. Oak groves spread and populated the northern hemisphere, giving protection, sustenance and shelter to countless souls.

And they all lived happily ever after.

 Happy Father’s Day 2023

Resources for this fable are as follows:

The Environmentor tentree.com

National Park Services NPS.gov

Bay Nature www.baynature.org

Woodland Trust- https://www.woodlandtrust.org.uk

The New York Times nytimes.com