Graham’s Leaf Funnel

A fat raindrop plinked into a shallow rock basin—and Graham spotted two more slipping down the cliff.

“Wait!” he called, scrambling across the ledge. “Those drops could fill my basin!”

Graham was a young pterodactyl with a long beak, wide wings, and a thirst that had been growing since lunchtime. The rain had stopped, but the cliff still held little beads of water. Below, a ferny valley spread between the rocks. Above, the evening sky was turning the color of a peach.

Graham hurried to the basin. It was smooth and round, but nearly empty. One raindrop sat at the bottom. Plink! Another slid down a crack in the rock and landed beside it.

“Two drops,” Graham counted. “But I need enough for a good drink.”

His friend Willa, a young pterodactyl with a pale stripe across her wings, landed beside him. She looked at the drops, then at the broad leaves growing near the ledge.

“Could we bring the rain over?” she asked.

Graham picked up a leaf. It was wide as his head and curved like a little bowl. He tipped it toward the basin. A drop rolled down its middle—then slipped over the edge and fell onto the stone.

Plip.

Graham blinked. “That one missed.”

“Let’s try another leaf,” said Willa.

They found a second broad leaf and leaned it against the first. Graham held the edges together while Willa nudged a raindrop onto the top. It rolled along the green surface, joined another drop, and slid toward the basin.

Plink!

“One leaf, one drop,” Graham said. “Two leaves, two drops!”

The drops gathered in a narrow crease, but the leaves would not stay put. Their edges sprang apart, and the next drop slipped down the wrong side.

Graham watched it run toward the cliff’s edge. Willa quickly caught it on a leaf and guided it back to the ledge.

“Good catch,” Graham said.

The sun sank a little lower. Graham looked at his almost-empty basin, then at the leaves. They had a plan, but the leaves needed to make a proper path.

“Let’s build a funnel,” he said. “A leaf path that points right into the basin.”

Willa nodded. Together they chose two more leaves, broad and green, while the last rain drops waited along the cliff like tiny beads.

Graham and Willa set the leaves side by side, overlapping their edges. One leaf made a wide opening. The next narrowed the path. The third pointed toward the basin.

“Ready?” asked Willa.

Graham carefully tipped a drop into the top. It rolled down the first leaf, slipped onto the second, and—just as it reached the third—fell off the side.

Plip. It landed on the ledge.

“Almost,” Graham said. “One leaf, one turn. Two leaves, two turns. We need the water to keep going.”

Willa pinched the leaf edges together. Graham pushed a small stone against the bottom, holding the funnel in place. They tried again. A drop traveled down the green path and reached the basin.

Plink!

Then the breeze came skipping over the cliff. It lifted the leaves’ tips and folded their opening flat. The funnel crumpled like a sleepy flower.

“Oh, no,” said Graham. “The rain is running out.”

He watched a drop slide along a leaf and disappear into a crease. The breeze eased. Graham looked at the fallen funnel, then at a sturdy twig lying nearby. It was straight, with a tiny fork at one end.

“I know,” he said. “The twig can hold the leaves open—and point the water toward the basin.”

Willa helped him set the twig beneath the leaves. Its fork cradled the upper edges, while the other end rested near the basin. Graham pressed one leaf against the twig. Willa tucked another beside it. The leaves opened into a wide mouth, then sloped down to a narrow tip.

A drop rested at the top.

“Here comes one,” whispered Willa.

Graham nudged it forward. It rolled onto the first leaf. Willa guided it across the second. Graham kept the funnel steady as the drop reached the twig’s end.

Plink!

It landed in the basin.

“One leaf,” said Graham, “one drop.”

“Two leaves,” said Willa, “two drops.”

Together they guided another drop, then another. The twig held firm. The leaves stayed open. Each drop followed the little green path and made a bright, small sound against the rock.

The last drops clung to the cliffside. Willa caught one on a leaf and tipped it into the funnel. Graham guided the final bead along the crease.

Plink.

The basin held enough water for a drink. Graham and Willa leaned close to check. The water rested quietly at the bottom, gathered from every leaf and every careful turn.

The evening settled over the cliff. In the valley below, the ferns looked dark and soft against the rocks. A few birds called from somewhere far away, and then the valley grew quiet again.

Graham sat beside the basin. The twig still propped the leaves open, though there were no more drops to guide. Willa rested her wings against her sides.

“Your idea worked,” she said.

“Our idea,” Graham replied. “You found the leaves.”

Willa smiled. “And you found the twig.”

Graham leaned down for a sip. The water was cool from the rain and tasted clean as a morning puddle. He lifted his head and let out a happy little burp.

Willa giggled. “That was a very loud thank-you.”

“It was a very good drink,” Graham said.

He stepped aside so Willa could sip, too. She drank slowly, careful not to bump the basin. Then she settled beside him on the ledge.

The rock held the day’s warmth beneath them. The leaves lay still, their edges resting against the twig. One small drop remained on the tip of the top leaf. It trembled there for a moment, then rolled down the little path and fell into the basin.

Plink.

Graham looked at Willa. “One more.”

“One more,” she agreed.

They watched the last ripples spread across the water and fade. The basin was full enough for them both, and the rain had left the ledge fresh and cool. Graham folded his wings close. Willa tucked her beak beneath one wing.

Above them, the sky deepened from peach to blue. A first evening breeze passed over the cliff, but the twig held the leaves steady. The water stayed in the basin, and the two friends stayed beside it, listening to the quiet valley.

Graham’s eyelids grew heavy. He rested his head on his folded wings, near the basin and the leaf funnel they had made together. Willa was already still beside him. The cliff was peaceful, the air smelled of rain, and the last light slipped behind the far hills as Graham settled into a cozy rest.