Lou-Anne and the Windy Day

One morning, the Savannah woke up in a very unusual mood.

The grass swayed wildly. The trees rustled and whispered. Dust skipped along the ground in little spinning circles, and even the clouds seemed to be hurrying somewhere.

“It’s windy,” said Lou-Anne, holding onto her hat as she walked toward the baobab tree.

Marmalade crouched low beside her, looking deeply offended by the entire atmosphere.

Under the tree, M’Pofo was trying to drink from the water trough without getting leaves in his trunk. Kiera’s ears flapped in the breeze like little flags. Vakawu had wrapped his tail around a branch so he would not wobble off it, though he claimed this was purely for style.

Ubejane stood with his head down, facing into the wind.

“You all right?” Lou-Anne asked.

“No,” said Ubejane. “The wind is touching me.”

“That is what wind does,” said Vakawu.

“It should stop,” Ubejane replied.

At first, Lou-Anne thought it might be a good day for games.

“Let’s race leaves,” she said.

So they each found a dry leaf and placed it on the ground. On Lou-Anne’s count, they let go.

Whoosh.

The leaves flew off at once.

Vakawu cheered. Kiera bounced after hers. M’Pofo accidentally sneezed and sent two more leaves into the air. Marmalade chased one for a few steps, then stopped as if he had remembered he was a cat of dignity.

Only Ubejane refused to join.

“My leaf blew into a bush,” he grumbled. “This game lacks structure.”

Then the wind grew stronger.

A little bird’s nest, half-built in a low acacia tree, began to wobble. Tiny twigs dropped into the grass.

Lou-Anne saw it first.

“Oh no. That nest is going to fall.”

Everyone looked up.

A small brown bird darted anxiously around the branch, chirping as fast as her little beak could manage.

“She needs help,” said M’Pofo.

At once, the friends got to work.

Lou-Anne gathered fallen twigs. Kiera fetched soft grass. Vakawu climbed carefully into the tree to reach the shaky branch. M’Pofo lifted his trunk to shield the nest from the strongest gusts.

Even Ubejane stepped forward.

“What can I do?” he asked.

Lou-Anne looked around. “Stand on this side. You’re big enough to block the wind near the bottom.”

Ubejane planted himself firmly beside the tree and faced the gusts with a look that suggested he was personally offended by weather.

“Fine,” he muttered. “If the wind wants trouble, it can speak to me directly.”

Little by little, the nest stopped wobbling so much.

Vakawu tucked new twigs into place. The bird chirped at him nervously, but he was gentle.

Lou-Anne passed up bits of grass and moss. Kiera sorted the best pieces into neat little piles. M’Pofo held steady, calm and careful, even when the dust swirled around his feet.

At last, the nest sat snugly in the branch again.

The small bird fluttered down, landed on the edge, and settled herself inside with a tiny sound of relief.

“We did it,” Lou-Anne said.

M’Pofo smiled. “Together.”

Ubejane looked up at the nest and gave one short nod. “Acceptable.”

“That means he’s pleased,” said Vakawu.

“I did not say that,” said Ubejane.

“You didn’t need to,” Lou-Anne laughed.

By afternoon, the wind had begun to soften.

The grass still swayed, but more gently now. The dust settled. The trees stopped hissing and went back to their usual rustling. Marmalade finally sat down in a patch of sunshine and began washing one paw as if the whole windy episode had been extremely inconvenient.

Lou-Anne leaned against M’Pofo’s side and looked up at the repaired nest.

“It wasn’t the day I expected,” she said.

“The Savannah is like that,” said M’Pofo. “Even ordinary days can ask something special of you.”

Lou-Anne liked that.

As the sun dipped lower, the little brown bird sang from her nest, and the sound floated softly across the grass.

A thank-you song, Lou-Anne thought.

And under the wide evening sky, with the wind at last growing gentle, the friends headed home, glad for a day that had begun with bluster and ended with kindness.