The forest folk all knew the story of the Christmas Squirrel, how one of their own went off with Father Christmas to help to deliver presents to all folks everywhere on that special night. But memories fade and pass into tradition and tales. While some creatures spoke of the squirrel who went off with Santa, others talked about the horticultural squirrel who looked after his trees and had the best harvests. The Christmas Squirrel became a family tradition passed down the generations in his family since the young squirrels always seemed to have a special, exotic nut tied with a red ribbon when they woke up on that special morning. The old squirrels who spent more time snoozing than scampering would look at each other and nod wisely, remembering the delicious nuts they'd woken up to when they were young. And the years passed and the memories faded.
The young squirrel moved into the den he'd inherited in the middle of the old woods. It was quite spacious and had many larders and comforts, especially the large bed in the small room off the reception area. This part of the woods had always been a flourishing area but had fallen into ruin and the squirrel knew that his first job was to look after the trees and bushes and bring them back to their best. His family was known for their horticultural skills so it would be a privilege and a joy to carry out this work. Even before he was settled he started pruning the tree, much to the approval of the hedgehog family that lived in the roots of the tree.
He was very industrious and it didn't take long for him to start pruning the blackberry bushes and the hawthorns to encourage them to produce more berries and that autumn he soon had a full larder. He visited neighbours to offer them berries and nuts that were more than he needed, to the hedgehogs, the mice and even to Mr Fox (there is always a Mr Fox).
The frost arrived, making everyone shiver, and then the snow. The squirrel wore a bright red muffler his mother had made for him and that kept the chill at bay. He was delivering a succulent blackberry to the hedgehogs who lived at the base of his tree when they mentioned that their ancestor had known his ancestor. They mentioned that they remembered his ancestor always wore the scarf in all the colours of autumn and winter when the snows arrived and how he had scampered onto Santa's sleigh one night and never returned.
The squirrel had heard the family stories but didn't realise that others of the forest folks still remembered his ancestor. He hurried up the tree and into his warn bed as he thought of his great, great oh so great uncle, and he fell asleep. At some point in the night he vaguely heard bells and turned over in his bed to go back to sleep. He had forgotten that it was the special night.
After a deep sleep the squirrel woke up and stretched and opened the front door to his den to find a nut outside on the doormat. Tied with a red ribbon and a bow. He looked at the nut and its shiny ribbon and remembered when he was younger and found a nut on that special morning and here it was again. He looked around so he could thank whoever had left it but there was no-one around so he picked it up and added it to his larder to eat for his lunch. It was the special day, after all.
That was a long, hard winter, with deep snows and the Great Sickness affecting the forest folks but the squirrel visited his neighbours and always took a small gift of berries or cordial or nuts. He felt it was important to keep in touch with his friends even though it meant going out into the cruel weather rather than keeping snug and warm in his cosy den. And then, one day, he noticed new shoots on his tree and leaves emerging on the bushes on the forest floor and he knew that Spring was arriving.
He was soon busy once again, as the blossom started to show and the fresh green of new leaves started to fill his vision. He always found time to chat to his neighbours and visitors who came to marvel at his trees and all the colour and growth he encouraged from them. It wasn't long before summer arrived and the squirrel lolled in his trees and watched the life of the woods pass by, with the hedgehogs and dormice and Mr Fox. And suddenly it was Autumn and the busy-ness started again as the squirrel filled his larders and started giving the bounty from his trees to other woodland creatures.
When it became colder the squirrel took his red muffler from the drawer and wrapped it round his neck when he visited his friends. It was surprisingly warm, even on the frosty mornings. The leaves fell and the world was golden. Then the snow turned the world white. The squirrel snuggled deep into his warm bed and drifted off to sleep but then he was woken by a jingling and a merry laugh.
He looked out of his door and saw a bright, gleaming sleigh in the snow in the clearing outside his tree. He saw a big man in red with a white beard and a squirrel sorting out colourful boxes, some wrapped with ribbons and he remembered it was the special night. He grabbed his red muffler and ran to his larder to pour some cordial into two acorn shells and hurried down the tree to offer them to the two strangers as a welcome to the woods.
The man gulped down the cordial and said, 'I haven't tasted that in years!' while the strange squirrel savoured the taste and said 'Blackberry and gooseberry!' and smacked his lips. The squirrel was wearing a scarf in all the colours of autumn and winter and his bushy tail whisked from side to side. 'Thank you, nephew' said the squirrel.
The squirrel blinked as he realised that this was his great, great o-so great uncle from the family stories. 'O gosh' he said quietly. The squirrel smiled and handed back the acorn cup. He said 'You're doing an excellent job with the trees and I've never seen that bush over there have so many berries. Keep up the good work!' Then he produced a small red and green kerchief full of seeds and handed it to his nephew saying, 'I picked these seeds myself from far off places and all will grow here. The bees will love them!'. With a final whisk of his tail he scampered back onto the sleigh and it climbed up into the clear sky as the man gave a great laugh into the night.
The squirrel woke up and, after breakfast, he open the door to see a nut wrapped in a red ribbon and another parcel wrapped in colourful paper. He opened the parcel to find a scarf in all the colours of autumn and winter and he clasped it to him. It was true, the old stories were true. The Christmas Squirrel was his uncle and he had visited and left him a special scarf.
The squirrel sat in his armchair clutching the scarf to him, more determined than ever to treasure his uncle's memory and legacy and care for the trees, the bushes and the forest folk. He said out loud, 'Until next year, Uncle...' and then headed to his larders to take his gifts to his friends at the bottom of the tree and show them his new scarf.
Merry Christmas!
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