“Milk! What’s all that noise you’re causing at such an early hour?!? Don’t you know by now how much I need my sleep?” I was getting bored of that sort of awakenings… I went to the door, to see what was the cause of this, and had to rub my eyes. That was not possible… Was I still dreaming? Nope, apparently not. Then this had to be true. A tree was knocking on our door.

“Excuse me, am I at the Witch’s Cottage? I was told that I could get some help here...” said the tree, with a deep booming voice and twisting some of its branches in nervousness. I signalled for him to wait, please, while I rushed in to get Clarissa and push the coffee maker’s button. She would need a coffee for this, I surmised. Or maybe three, depending on the tree’s problem.

I went back out and offered him some water while the still grumpy witch was waking up, grabbing some clothes and a coffee, grumbling about mornings and looking for a hair brush that she was certain to have put somewhere in there, why couldn’t she find it, oh here it is, all right, let’s go see what the problem is this time.

The front door was still open as I tried to engage in light conversation with the tree, who told me he was actually an Ent named Dave. Clarissa, emerging from the kitchen with a mug of coffee in hand, stopped mid-step and blinked. Then blinked again. She tried to speak, but no words would form, and she ended up taking a good long sip while studying our visitor. He obviously didn’t know what to say either, and waited politely for her surprise to recede. After a good minute of nervous waiting, he decided that an introduction would be useful, and spoke.

“Good morning Madam Witch, I apologize for knocking on your door at such an early hour, but I could really use some help… I am the elected leader of the Forest’s Ents, twice champion of the Great Mushroom tournament, winner of the Chestnut award and member of the Big Oak Society. You may, however, call me Dave.”

Clarissa wasn’t awake enough for an exchange of pleasantries and went straight to the point. “Name’s Clarissa. Here’s Milk. Now, what would be the problem?” Dave said not a word and turned around, letting us see the reason for his apparent lack of sleep. Stuck in the bark of this majestic tree, perfectly horizontal and trying desperately to free himself was… Bob. Bob? How? Why? When? No time for questions, Clarissa was already wiggling a finger to free him.

The poor bird, now rolled up in the witch’s hands, passed out from exhaustion. There was a moment of complete silence as we all looked at each other, trying to understand what had happened, and how we could proceed from now on. The first one to move was Clarissa, who gulped down the half mug of coffee in her hand then went back to the kitchen to make some more, taking Bob with her. She had exactly what he needed to get at least enough energy to explain the situation, somewhere in there, no that’s a teapot, oh well it can work too, ah there are the vitamins, here Bob, take this, and that as well while we’re at it, now let’s get back out and try to untangle the situation.

The bird, once comfortably installed on Clarissa’s lap in the garden, took a deep breath and started chirping. And oh boy, what a chirp… “I was minding my own business when suddenly, from the bushes, emerged a tiny dude with a long white beard and a pointy red hat, perched on the back of a fox, threatening me with a spoon and yelling “ALL YOUR TREES ARE BELONG TO US!!!!” I flew away, to what I thought was safety, but the crazy imp used his spoon as a catapult and started throwing acorns and chestnuts and all sorts of things he could find in my direction, and let me tell you, you do NOT want an acorn thrown straight at your bottom at top speed…” he went on for several minutes about how it was outrageous and the differences between a thrown acorn and chestnut, and eventually we understood that there was nothing more to get out of him.