Balduin the Badger Finds His Favourite Sleeping Spot

It was a very special evening in the Silbenwald. One by one, the little lanterns hanging in the trees began to glow — gently, warmly, like drops of golden honey in the dark. Wisps of mist curled between the roots, and the fireflies were spinning their first dance of the night. Right in the middle of it all stood Balduin the Badger, yawning so deeply that his whole round tummy wobbled with the effort. Balduin rubbed his eyes beneath his little green nightcap. It was time to sleep. But where — oh, where — would Balduin find his very favourite sleeping spot tonight?

Balduin shuffled along the mossy path, feeling how soft it was beneath his paws. He had always had his sleeping spot, you see — the great arching root of his old tree, snug and familiar. But when Balduin arrived there this evening, someone else had already settled in. Piek the Hedgehog had curled himself up in a perfect little ball, every spike tucked in, and was snoring away quite contentedly. Balduin stopped and smiled. Piek looked so cosy, so utterly at peace. Balduin wouldn't wake him for anything in the world. So the badger drew his brown sash a little tighter and looked around the Silbenwald for somewhere else to rest.

Balduin wandered on, deeper into the Silbenwald. The lanterns hummed a very quiet song, and the fireflies trailed after him like a small comet of light. Then Balduin spotted the old silver birch with a hollow high up in its trunk. Perhaps that would make a lovely spot? Balduin tried to climb, but his little badger paws kept sliding on the smooth, pale bark. Suddenly a sleepy face appeared at the opening above. It was Fippa the Squirrel, her russet fur all ruffled from dozing. Fippa blinked down at Balduin and whispered, "Balduin, whatever are you doing down there?"

Balduin explained his problem to Fippa the Squirrel. Fippa listened carefully, even though her eyes kept fluttering shut with tiredness. "You could sleep up here with me, Balduin," Fippa whispered kindly. "Only — I'm not sure you'd quite fit." She gestured into the little round hollow, and both of them had to stifle their giggles, because the hollow really was very narrow indeed. Balduin was a fine, round badger, and there was simply no squeezing him in there. "Thank you, Fippa," Balduin whispered. "Sleep well in your lovely hollow." Fippa gave a small wave and disappeared back into the darkness of the birch. Balduin wandered on, the fireflies still bobbing at his side.

A little further into the Silbenwald, a small stream murmured quietly. Beside it lay two large, round stones, thick with green moss, soft as a pillow. Balduin lowered himself down between them to try it out. The moss really was wonderfully soft. But then Balduin heard the water. Drip and splash, drip and splash, over and over and over again. As lovely as that sound was during the day, tonight it kept Balduin's ears wide open and his eyes wider still. The badger lay there listening and listening. No — this spot was beautiful, but it wasn't quite right. Balduin stood up, straightened his nightcap, and carried on. The search was not over yet.

All of a sudden, Balduin heard a gentle rustling in the branches above him. Perched on the highest bough of the old oak sat the owl of the Silbenwald, her great golden eyes taking in everything, calm and wise. "Balduin," the owl called down in her deep, velvety voice, "you are searching for your sleeping spot." Balduin nodded and sighed. "I've looked everywhere, but I simply cannot find it." The owl blinked, slowly and steadily. "Sometimes," she said, "the thing you are searching for is not further ahead — it is very close behind." Balduin scratched his ear thoughtfully. What could the owl mean? He stood there pondering, while the fireflies danced their quiet circles around him.

On his way back through the Silbenwald, Balduin came across the fox. The fox had smoothed his red fur neatly and was strolling at an easy, unhurried pace through the trees. "Have you found a good spot yet, Balduin?" the fox asked with a curious tilt of his head. Balduin shook his head. "Not yet," he yawned — a yawn even bigger than the last one. The fox chuckled softly. "There's no room for a badger at mine either, I'm afraid," he said good-naturedly, "but I think you already know where your place is. You've simply been too busy moving about to remember it." Be still. Remember. Slowly, Balduin's eyes drooped half-shut as he turned the words over in his mind.

Balduin stopped walking. He stood quite, quite still. He breathed in — one long, slow breath. The Silbenwald smelled of damp moss, of elder blossom, and of something warm and familiar that Balduin knew very well indeed. And then he remembered. Right at the edge of the forest, where the old elder tree grew, where the lanterns burned their warmest gold and the mist lay its softest — there was a hollow in the earth. A hollow as round as Balduin himself, cradled in dry, rustling leaves. Balduin opened his eyes and smiled. Of course. That was his favourite sleeping spot. How had he ever forgotten? The badger turned around and padded quietly back the way he had come.

And there it was. The round, soft hollow beneath the old elder tree. The leaves were dry and sweet-smelling. The nearest lantern hung directly above, casting a golden glow over everything, as warm as a hug. Balduin lowered himself in, slowly and carefully. The hollow fitted him so perfectly it might have been shaped just for him — and, really, it had been. He drew his brown scarf up snugly around his ears. Then Balduin closed his eyes. One by one, the fireflies settled into the leaves all around him, like tiny fallen stars. Everything was very, very still.

The Silbenwald breathed. The lanterns glowed their quiet glow. The mist settled gently over the roots, over the leaves, and over Balduin the Badger. Far away, the owl called once — deep and calm. Piek the Hedgehog was sleeping. Fippa the Squirrel was sleeping. The fox was sleeping. And Balduin the Badger was sleeping too. Sleeping soundly and deeply and warmly, the way you can only sleep when you have found your very own favourite spot. And the fireflies shone their soft light all through the night, so that Balduin would have the most beautiful dreams. Just like you will now.