Pip Takes a Sunflower Seed on Flying Lessons

A Seed in His Toes

Pip flapped so hard that Dad’s hat blew into breakfast.

“A hat pancake!” Dad said.

Pip gave a small hoot. Then he folded his wings.

Outside their mountain cabin, tall pine trees swayed. Inside, the stove clicked softly. Breakfast smelled of warm oats.

Pip wanted to fly to the garden stump. It stood beyond the porch, beside a patch of dirt. Mum had put a thick bed of leaves around it.

“Just a little flight,” Pip said.

His wings felt much too large. His feet felt much too small.

Mum placed a little seed beside his bowl.

“For your garden,” she said. “A sunflower.”

Pip rolled it with one toe. It had black stripes and a sharp little tip.

He pictured a flower beside his stump. A yellow flower, big enough to shade his head.

“I’ll fly it there,” he said.

He took the seed gently in his toes. Then he climbed onto the low porch step.

Flap, flap, hop.

Plop.

He landed in the leaves. They smelled like apples and cool earth.

His seed landed on his head.

Dad peeked over the step.

“A seed hat,” he said. “Much better than mine.”

Pip smiled. But the stump still looked far away.

“Maybe my wings are only good for blowing hats.”

The Missing Passenger

Mum sat beside Pip in the leaves.

“What worked?” she asked.

Pip looked at the step.

“I got off.”

“You did.”

“And I landed.”

“You certainly did.”

A leaf stuck out from under his tail. Pip pulled it free.

“The middle bit needs work.”

They tried again from a flat stone. It was lower than the step.

This time, Pip watched Mum’s wings.

Up. Down. A little push.

He held the seed snugly in his toes.

Up. Down. Push.

For one lovely moment, both feet floated above the leaves.

Then he sat down with a soft crunch.

“I did the middle bit!”

“You did,” said Mum.

Pip opened his toes.

No seed.

He looked underneath his feet. He looked behind the stone.

Dad lifted his hat.

“Not in here.”

Pip’s tummy felt tight. What if they never found it?

He brushed the leaves aside, one by one.

“Little seed?” he whispered.

Mum searched beside him. Dad searched under the porch.

Then Pip felt a tickle under one wing.

He lifted it.

There, tucked among his soft feathers, was the seed.

Pip blinked. Then he laughed.

“You wanted a warm seat!”

He set it down carefully.

“Wait here. I need one more practice.”

A Place to Land

Pip climbed onto the flat stone again.

He looked at the stump. Then he looked closer.

A small, smooth rock sat halfway there.

“Could I stop on that?” he asked.

“A very good stop,” said Mum.

Pip spread his wings.

Up. Down. Push.

He flew to the rock.

His landing was wobbly. His bottom stuck up. But his feet stayed put.

“Hello, rock,” he said.

Dad clapped his wings.

“Excellent place for a bottom.”

Pip flew back for the seed. This time, Mum helped tuck it safely between his toes.

Stone to rock.

A small rest.

Rock to stump.

Pip landed with both wings wide.

He had done it.

For a moment, he forgot to fold his wings.

“My seed!” he called. “We’re here!”

They planted it beside the stump. Pip pressed the dirt gently. Dad brought water in a cup.

Each morning, Pip flew out to look.

First came a green loop. Then two leaves. Then more.

Weeks later, a yellow sunflower nodded beside the stump.

Its round brown middle was full of seeds.

Pip stared.

“Oh,” he said. “That’s a lot of passengers.”

Mum leaned against him.

“How will you carry them?”

Pip opened his wings.

“A few at a time,” he said. “With stops.”