Winnie the Pooh was stumping along the path to Piglet’s house when he heard someone say “hello”. “Hullo,” he said, looking around to try to see who he might be talking to.
“It’s a nice day, isn’t it,” said the voice.
“Well,” said Pooh, “it’s turning into a puzzling sort of day.”
“Don’t you like puzzles?” asked whoever-it-was.
“I like games,” said Pooh. “Are puzzles quite the same as games?”
“I don’t think so,” said the voice. Then it started to explain about puzzles and games, but there came a high-pitched peeping sound — really more than one of them — and the whoever-it-was said “Excuse me, I have to do something else, but I’ll be right back.”
There was a nest on a tree branch a few feet over Pooh’s head, and a bird flew out of it. When Pooh looked up, he saw four little heads peeking out of the nest, and they were making peeping sounds. Pooh realized the whoever-it-was had been the bird that flew away. She must be the mother bird, he thought, and she’s gone off to bring breakfast.
With that, Pooh remembered that even though he had eaten breakfast before he left to see Piglet, it was now After Breakfast. That meant it might be time for a Little Something — and his tummy thought so too. There was a blackberry bush just beside the path, so he helped himself to some blackberries.
Just as Pooh was finishing a pawful of blackberries, the mother bird came back and fed her babies. Then she perched on the edge of her nest and looked down at Pooh. “Thank you for waiting,” she said, “what were we talking about?”
“Games, I think,” said Pooh, who didn’t really want to talk about games. “But my name is Pooh. Have you lived here very long?”
“Oh, pleased to meet you Pooh, my name is Robin,” said the bird. “No, I don’t suppose so — we just moved here this spring. I don’t like to stay in the same nest for too long, you know.”
“Oh,” said Pooh, who didn’t know. “That’s a very nice hood you’re wearing, Robin.”
“Why thank you,” said Robin. She was wearing a blue cape with a hood that came up over the back of her head. “It was a gift from a distant relative who lives near here. Perhaps you’ve heard of him; his name is Owl.”
“Yes, Owl is a good friend of mine,” said Pooh happily. “Did you move the the Hundred Acre Wood to be nearer your family?”
“I’m not sure Owl is QUITE family,” said Robin, “he’s a very distant relation, you see. But I suppose so — I’ve quite many closer relations just close to here too. That’s doesn’t matter so much to me though. I just need a good place to stay while my brood is nidiculous.”
“They are?” asked Pooh, who didn’t know what Robin was talking about.
“Of course they are,” said Robin. “You can see these nidiculous babies for yourself; just look.”
Pooh looked. “They look fine to me,” he said. He thought “nidiculous” didn’t sound very nice, somehow.
“Of course they’re fine,” said Robin, “when I say they’re ‘nidiculous’, I just mean they stay in the nest until they’re grown up enough to leave and build their own nests.”
“Oh, I see” said Pooh, who didn’t really. “But don’t all baby birds do that?”
“Nonsense,” said Robin. “Baby ducks don’t do that at all; they waddle around after their mother right away. It must be quite a nuisance, having them underfoot all the time, never having a moment to oneself.”
“I didn’t know about baby ducks,” said Pooh humbly. “I’m a bear of Very Little Brain, you see.”
“Baby ducks,” said Robin, are “nidifugous”. That means they get out of their nests as soon as they can.
“‘Nidiculous’ and ‘nidifugous’, said Pooh thoughtfully, nodding his head. “I shall have to try to remember those words to tell Christopher Robin.”
Robin tipped her head to one side. “Did you say ‘Christopher Robin’?” she asked. “Perhaps that’s someone in my family.”
“I don’t think so,” said Pooh. “Christopher Robin isn’t a bird at all, you see. He’s a boy.”
“Ah,” said Robin, “Is he a nidiculous boy, or is he nidifugous?”
Pooh thought for a moment. “I think,” he said slowly, working it out, “I think Christopher Robin is nidifugous, because he marches all around the Hundred Acre Wood. When he can, that is,” added Pooh.
“Certainly not from my side of the family in that case,” said Robin. “On my side were all confirmed nidiculists.”
The baby robins started peeping again. “You’ll have to excuse me,” said Robin, “I need to fly off for a bit. I say, are those blackberries down there?”
“Yes,” said Pooh, who hadn’t eaten them all.
“Quite right,” said Robin, and she hopped down and started gathering some. “My nidiculous children will enjoy these. Perhaps we can talk again later, Pooh.”
“I hope so,” said Pooh, “goodbye, Robin.”
Pooh stumped down the path to Piglet’s house, where he told Piglet all about Robin and her nidiculous babies. He didn’t remember the part about the baby ducks, though, until later, so he told it to Owl, who pretended he already knew it.
