Archie’s Three Goodnights

“One more thing,” Archie whispered, just as Dottie tucked her wings around him.

Dottie paused. The nest was tucked into the fork of a woodland tree, snug with dry leaves and soft feathers. Archie had wriggled into the hollow beside her, ready to settle down for the night. Or so he had thought.

“What is it, little owl?” Dottie asked.

“Today I saw a beetle carrying a crumb bigger than its head.” Archie sat up. “And I meant to tell you before bedtime.”

“That was quite a beetle,” Dottie said. “Now let your head rest.” She settled her wing around him again.

Archie tucked his feet beneath him. He looked through the nest’s leafy doorway. Below, the woodland was quiet. An owl’s day and night could be different from a person’s; many owls rested in sheltered places during the day, though habits differed by species. Dottie and Archie were awake now, in their sheltered tree.

“Dottie?” Archie whispered.

“Yes, Archie?”

“I forgot to tell you that the wind carried a leaf right onto my tail this afternoon. I thought it was another owlet.” He gave a tiny giggle. “It tickled!”

Dottie smiled. “I’m glad you told me.”

Archie curled his toes, then stretched them. He lowered his head until his beak pointed toward his toes. He tried to be still, but another thought bobbed up.

“And the moon looked like a little bowl,” he said. “And I heard a woodpecker tapping. And I wanted to ask—”

His words tumbled together. Dottie listened, but Archie’s eyes kept opening, and his feathers kept rustling against the nest.

“I want to get cozy with you,” Archie said. “But every time I get ready, one more thing pops into my head.”

Dottie gave him a snug squeeze. “Your thoughts can be good visitors,” she said. “But they don’t all need to stay awake with us.”

Archie tilted his head. “Where can they go?”

Dottie looked at the little nest, then at her owlet. “We could give them a place to land.”

“How?” Archie asked. His eyes were wide, and his head tipped so far to one side that one ear feather brushed the nest.

“Let’s make three goodnights,” said Dottie. “First, tell one thing you liked today. Next, tell someone or something you’re thankful for. Last, choose one thought to save for tomorrow. Then we can let the rest go quiet.”

Archie looked around the nest as if the three goodnights might be hiding among the leaves. “Do I have to choose just one thing for each?”

“Just one,” said Dottie. “You can keep the others tucked safely away.”

Archie settled his belly into the feathers. He thought about the beetle and the leaf on his tail. He pictured the little bowl of moonlight beyond the branches. For a moment, all his thoughts crowded forward again.

“What if I forget one?” he asked.

“Then it can wait until morning,” Dottie said. “The nest will still be here. I’ll still be here.”

Archie leaned against her. The words helped. He could almost feel his busy thoughts finding places to perch.

“All right,” he whispered. “My first goodnight: I liked watching that beetle carry its crumb.”

“Goodnight, beetle and crumb,” Dottie murmured.

“My second goodnight: thank you for sitting with me while I told you all my things.”

“You’re welcome, my dear owlet.” Dottie rested her cheek against his crown.

Archie looked toward the leafy doorway once more. He did not need to tell Dottie about the moon right now. He could keep that thought safe for the morning.

“My third goodnight is for the moon,” he said. “I’ll tell you more about its bowl shape tomorrow.”

Dottie nodded. “That thought can sleep in its own little place.”

Archie let his beak close. He gave one soft hoot, low and round. It sounded like a tiny blanket being pulled up.

“There,” said Dottie. “Your goodnight thoughts have landed.”

Archie nestled beside her. His feathers stopped rustling, though one small part of him still wanted to peek out and check that the moon was there.

Dottie’s wing rested warm across his back. “You don’t have to check,” she whispered. “Tomorrow will bring another chance to look.”

Archie nodded against her feathers. The nest held him, and Dottie held him too.

For a little while, neither owl said a word. The branches made a quiet shape around the nest, and leaves brushed together overhead. Archie listened to the woodland sounds: a faraway rustle, a soft creak in the tree, and Dottie’s steady breathing beside him.

“Can I tell the goodnights the same way tomorrow?” he murmured.

“Whenever you like,” Dottie said. “One thing you liked, one thank-you, and one thought to save.”

Archie pictured his thoughts tucked into three small places. The beetle and its crumb rested in the first. His thank-you sat in the second, warm as a feather. The moon waited in the third, ready for morning. The other thoughts could come and go without asking him to chase them.

“Goodnight, nest,” Archie whispered.

“Goodnight, tree,” Dottie answered.

“Goodnight, leaves,” Archie said, so quietly that only the closest ones seemed to hear.

Dottie brushed her beak over his head. Archie’s eyes grew heavy. He didn’t have to make them close; they simply rested there beneath his sleepy lids.

“Would you like to hear my three goodnights, too?” Dottie asked.

Archie made a small, pleased sound.

“Goodnight to the quiet woods,” Dottie whispered. “Thank you for this cozy nest. And I’ll save my morning thought for tomorrow.”

Archie tucked himself closer to her side. Her wing curved around him, and his own little wings folded neatly against his body. The nest felt just right beneath his feet and feathers.

He gave three soft hoots, each one smaller than the last. Dottie answered with a quiet hoot of her own. Archie’s head settled against her, and his eyes closed. The two owls rested together in their sheltered nest among the leaves.