Part 1: Derring-do and Crow Poo

Chapter 1: Morning in Seven-Trunk Tree

Swoosh it went, and soon after gadunk, when Birch slid the whole way down the dewy tree trunk and crashed into the back wall in Ash’s den.
“Er, what are you doing here?” asked Ash sleepily, sitting up with his hair sticking out in all directions. He looked like a battle-ready hedgehog. The large walnut shell he slept in was clearly too small for him. His legs hung out over the edge and there was no room at all for his upper body or his head, which instead was resting on a pile of small stones with a mossy mat over them.
Birch tried to unravel himself from all the many strange things he had become entangled in as he slid through the hole into Ash’s little nook. There were honeysuckle and bindweed twigs, shells from many of the beechnuts Ash had eaten recently and feathers bound together in different ways - because Ash was certain that it was possible to fly, if only he could work it out properly.
“They’ve come,” said Birch eventually. “I saw it myself. There was a huge splodge lying right outside my hole.” He grabbed hold of his friend to get him out of bed, but Ash blinked sleepily. It was clear he wanted to sleep on.
“It’s the middle of the night,” he groaned. Trying to wrest himself free of Birch’s grip, he tumbled backwards onto his bed. Crack! it went, as the walnut-shell bed broke in two.
“Oh, for five hundred flatfooted flies! I paid the mice through the nose for this bed. I gave two armfuls of juicy beechnuts for it. According to them, it was good for at least five summers.”
“It’s too small for you anyway,” said Birch. Again he tried to drag Ash to his feet, but Ash brushed his hands off.
“What would you know about it?”
Ash struggled out of the broken shell. He gazed dejectedly at the damage, but before he could decide what to do about the destruction, Birch dragged him out through the small hole in the trunk.
“Listen!" whispered Birch angrily.
Ash furrowed his brow and put his hands indignantly on his hips. “I take it you mean the nightingale in the thicket by the stream, or the thrush that’s being outrageously noisy defending his nesting area over there in the birchwood.” He looked disapprovingly at Birch. “Have you woken me up so I can guess birdsong just before dawn, when every holerick with any self-respect would have his head down. I mean, really …”
He didn’t get a chance to say more before Birch pulled two large clumps of moss out of his ears. “Of course you can’t hear anything with your ears bunged up with moss.” Birch folded his arms and stared furiously at his friend.
“OK – the woodpecker was making a hell of a din last night,” objected Ash, but suddenly went totally quiet. His ears turned slowly towards a distant cackling. “Crows!” he whispered and stared wide-eyed at Birch.

Author's comments

Birch nodded. “Exactly - close to our tree - and I think the Crow King himself is with them."
Eagerly he dragged Ash a little way up the stem to where his own hole was.
“Look,” he said, pointing at a big greyish-white splodge right in front of the entrance. “Doesn’t that look exactly like a king crow poo?”
Ash kneeled down and examined the bird dropping closely. “It’s quite possible,” he mumbled. “It’s certainly a rather hefty splat, much bigger than normal bird poo.” He looked at Birch and stifled a giggle. “Lucky you didn’t stick your head out at that moment. Then you’d have drowned in crow poo.”
“But I heard it. Splat! That’s what work me up.” Birch drew his thorn staff out of his belt. “Let’s go up and chase them off. Pow! Wham! Bam!” He waved his staff around fiercely. “Come and get it you lousy crow rabble!! Your time is up. You’ve met your match now!”
He leapt around like a grasshopper and was just about to strike the killer blow against the knot in the trunk that he had chosen as the Crow King when Ash took hold of his arm. “Ssh, you’ll wake Alda.”
But the warning came too late. A little curly head stuck itself out of the highest hole in the fourth trunk and a moment later, the tree’s youngest holerick came leaping down towards the two boys.
“I want to go to war against the Crow King too,” she said, shadow boxing.
“You’re a girl,” said Birch, as if that explained everything.
Alda put her hands on her hips. “So what? I can go to war with the crows anyway. Watch me.” She pulled a tiny little thorn stick out of her belt.
Birch beat his brow and groaned. “You can’t use that for anything! There’s only one thorn on it and it’s as soft as a willow twig.” He turned to Ash. “Come on, let’s hurry up to the top and defend the tree, so those rotten feathered fiends can’t settle and drop poo everywhere. When we’re finished with that, we can tell Hawthorn, so maybe he’ll finally understand that we are the ones who should actually be the defenders of Seven-Trunk Tree. We’re just as brave and strong as Oak is.”

Author’s comments:

I’ve always been fascinated by children in the 4-12 years age group. Many of them, especially the boys, are pure project creators and explorers who don’t look back but just throw themselves into one fantastic mission after another. Whether they are digging in the back garden for several days to find treasure, starting up some incredible business project which is going to make them rich before very long, or setting off on a “walk-about” which can make most parents sweat with fear, they do it with a self-confidence and optimism that is just superb!
Unfortunately, it is many of these children who later experience school as a constricting straitjacket, because the underlying agenda in most school situations is that they have to learn to sit still, pay attention to what the teacher is saying and do what they are told. I’m well aware that this is something we all have to learn, but the books about the Holericks from Seven-Stem Tree are my greeting and handshake to all those inquisitive explorers, researchers and entrepreneurs in the age group 4-12. The first volume, "Derring-do and Crow Poo” will hopefully be followed up by three more parts in the course of the next few years.
Happy reading!

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