Pip and the Glimmer-Bugs: A Lesson in Kindness

Pip and the Glimmer-Bugs

In the heart of Whispering Woods lived a little squirrel named Pip. Pip was a whirlwind of brown fur and boundless energy. His main mission in life, every single day, was to find the crunchiest nuts, the juiciest berries, and the fluffiest moss for his nest. He was very good at it, but he was so focused that he often didn’t notice much else.

The woods were also home to the Glimmer-Bugs. These tiny, beetle-like creatures were magical. They didn’t speak with words; they spoke with light. When a Glimmer-Bug was happy, it glowed with a warm, sunny yellow. When it was sad, its light was a soft, droopy blue. When it was frightened, its light flickered a pale, shaky green.

Pip didn’t pay much attention to the Glimmer-Bugs. To him, they were just little blinking lights that sometimes got in his way.

One morning, Pip was racing to a magnificent oak tree that grew the most perfect acorns. He zipped and zoomed along a branch, his eyes locked on his prize. In his haste, he scurried right through a tiny bridge made of a single leaf, knocking a line of Glimmer-Bugs into a soft pile of moss below.

They weren’t hurt, but their lights flashed a spiky, frustrated red. One of the larger Glimmer-Bugs flew up to Pip’s nose, its red light pulsing angrily. Pip just brushed it away. “Sorry, sorry! Busy squirrel!” he chuffed, and continued on his way.

Later that day, feeling very proud of his acorn collection, Pip sat on a large toadstool to rest. He saw a little Glimmer-Bug sitting alone on a blade of grass. Its light was a dim, watery blue, and it seemed to drip onto the grass like a tiny, sad puddle.

“What a gloomy little light,” Pip thought to himself, and was about to scamper off when a wise old owl, Elder Hoot, landed silently on the branch above him.

“She has lost her way home,” Hoot said in a low, gentle voice.

“Oh,” said Pip, not really understanding. “Well, she should look for it then.”

Elder Hoot blinked his big, golden eyes. “Pip,” he said softly. “Try something for me. Close your eyes and imagine you are very small. Imagine you are all alone, and the woods feel big and scary, and you don’t know which way your warm bed is. How would you feel?”

Pip fidgeted, but he did as he was told. He pictured himself, a tiny squirrel, lost in the dark. He imagined the rustles in the leaves sounding like monsters and the shadows looking like grabbing hands. A shiver went down his spine. He felt a little knot of worry tighten in his tummy.

He opened his eyes and looked at the little Glimmer-Bug again. He didn’t just see a blue light anymore. He saw loneliness. He saw fear. He saw the very same knot of worry he had just felt in his own tummy.

“Oh,” Pip whispered, and this time, it was a different kind of “oh.”

Slowly, he hopped off the toadstool and approached the Glimmer-Bug. He didn’t rush. He didn’t make a loud noise. He gently nudged a fallen dandelion seed-head towards her. It was a soft, fluffy thing to ride on.

The little bug crawled aboard. Pip carefully picked up the stem and began to walk. “Let’s find your home,” he said.

He looked around, trying to think like a Glimmer-Bug. Where would a family of tiny lights be? Not in a big, drafty tree hole like his. Maybe somewhere cozy and low to the ground. He remembered seeing a cluster of lights under the roots of a great sycamore tree.

As he got closer, he saw a whole family of Glimmer-Bugs flickering a worried, anxious green. When they saw Pip carrying their little one, their lights burst into a brilliant, joyful yellow, so bright it made the whole clearing look golden. They swarmed around Pip, their warm yellow light dancing on his fur in thanks.

Pip felt a warmth spread through his chest that was better than any acorn he had ever found.

From that day on, Pip was different. He still collected his nuts and berries, but he moved through the woods more carefully. He learned to read the lights of the Glimmer-Bugs. He would bring a drop of dew to a blue light, help lift a heavy pebble for a red light, and would often just sit and share a moment of quiet with the peaceful, white lights of the resting bugs.

The woods didn’t just seem like a place to find things anymore. It felt like a home filled with friends. And Pip, the little squirrel who learned to see with his heart, had never felt so full.