Oliver perched on a low branch. Three sparrows zoomed past. 'I can fly too!' he chirped.
He spread his wings and leaped — straight into a pile of crunchy autumn leaves. He popped up, shook a leaf off his head, and hopped back onto the branch.
The next morning, Oliver stood at the tip of the tallest twig and threw himself into the air. He spiraled down — splat! — landing on a snoozing toadstool.
Afternoon came. Oliver climbed a tall dandelion until he reached the very top puff — and then the dandelion bounced, launching him sideways into a spiderweb.
A tiny green caterpillar peeked out and offered a sticky tug. Oliver wriggled free and flew back to his branch. Again.
That evening, Oliver watched the wind dance the ferns and bend the grass. An idea landed in his head like a falling seed.
He grabbed a large leaf in his beak and dragged it to the edge of his branch, planting it like a sail. The breeze caught it — woosh — and the leaf lifted just an inch off the ground.
Golden morning arrived. Oliver climbed to the very top of the tallest tree. He spread his wings wide and took a deep breath.
He jumped. His wings caught the warm air — flap, glide, flap — and he rose up, up, higher than any leaf.
He soared higher than any branch. The whole green forest stretched below him, shimmering in the sunlight.
Oliver flew back down and landed on a branch, his chest still heaving with wonder. 'I did it,' he thought. 'I really did.'
And from that day on, every morning Oliver flew — up, around, and back again. He sang a song so bright it made the sparrows stop and listen.