Christmas story: a little bird in Father Christmas's beard

3 min read · For: Ages 6–9

It was a cold, bright morning at the North Pole. Father Christmas sat on the bench outside his house with a cup of tea, enjoying the sunshine on his face.

He closed his eyes. He sighed a happy sigh. And he did not notice the tiny brown bird hopping along the fence.

The bird was cold. Its feathers were puffed up like a little ball. It looked around for somewhere warm.

And then it saw it. Something big and white and fluffy. Something that looked like the softest, warmest nest in the whole world.

Father Christmas's beard.

A new nest

Flutter, flutter. The little bird flew up and landed right in the middle of Father Christmas's beard. It wriggled. It turned around twice. It snuggled down deep.

Father Christmas opened one eye. Then the other. He looked down, as far as he could, past his nose.

Two tiny black eyes looked back up at him.

"Oh," whispered Father Christmas. "Good morning."

"Cheep," said the bird. Then it tucked its head under its wing and went to sleep.

Don't move

Pip the elf came out of the workshop with a long list.

"Father Christmas," he called, "we need you in the..."

"Shh!" whispered Father Christmas. He pointed at his beard with one finger, very slowly.

Pip tiptoed closer. When he saw the little bird, his eyes went wide.

"It's asleep," whispered Father Christmas. "I can't move. If I move, it will wake up. And it's so cold."

"But the workshop," whispered Pip. "And the reindeer. And the letters."

"Bring them here," whispered Father Christmas. "Quietly."

Very quiet work

So for the rest of the morning, the North Pole came to Father Christmas.

The elves brought the letters, and Pip held them up one by one so Father Christmas could read them without moving his head.

The elves brought the toys to check, and Father Christmas nodded at them very, very slightly. A tiny nod meant "lovely". An even tinier nod meant "lovely, but needs a bit more paint".

The reindeer came over from the stable, one at a time, so Father Christmas could whisper good morning to them.

Then Father Christmas's nose started to itch.

"Pip," he whispered urgently. "My nose is tickling."

Pip climbed onto the bench and gave Father Christmas's nose a gentle scratch with the tip of a feather. "Better?"

"Much better," whispered Father Christmas.

Time to go

At lunchtime, the sun was high and the air was a little warmer. The little bird woke up. It stretched one wing. Then the other. It shook its feathers.

"Cheep," it said.

It hopped up onto Father Christmas's nose. It looked him right in the eye. Then it flew away over the snowy fence, chirping happily.

Father Christmas stretched his arms high into the air. "Ohhh," he groaned, "I feel as stiff as a gingerbread man."

"That was very kind," said Pip.

Father Christmas smiled. "Everyone needs a warm place sometimes," he said.

From that day on, every morning, Father Christmas put a little dish of seeds on the fence, and a scarf folded into a soft nest on the bench beside him. Just in case.