Memoirs of an Oak

The sun starts to rise in the east, chasing away the darkness that the moon had brought with it. I watch as the nocturnal animals scurry away to their burrows. If I could chuckle, I would. The owls, the wolves, the cockatrice, all the animals who live in the night run from the sun as if it was a big scary monster. They would never understand that the sun is simply part of nature. Part of life. ...But then again, the day creatures treat the moon the same way, like their life ends when the moon chases the sun from the sky. They rush to their homes to huddle and to wait out the night until the day comes again.

...Oh well. It's all just their nature. It makes no difference to me. I'm a tree. The sun and moon don't affect me, and therefore, I'm a home for both kinds of animal.

The sun rises higher, warming the forest where I stand. Warming me. The rays strike my leaves, drying the dew that had fallen during the night. The pores open to begin their job of collecting light and air to make food for me. It wakes up my roots, which begin to collect water and nutrients to aid the leaves in production. I feel refreshed. I enjoy the night, but it is during the day when I fully come to life. When I can grow.

...I feel a stirring inside me. The squirrel family that recently moved into a hole in my trunk must have just woken up. One pops its head out to check to make sure the nighttime animals are gone and to welcome the sun for another day. "Good morning, Mr. Squirrel." I want to say...but being a tree, I am incapable of speech. That doesn't bother me. I already feel joy that the squirrels have chosen me to be their resting place. The squirrel holds its head out just a second more, then takes a few cautionary steps down my trunk. Its little eyes dart around the forest, looking for anything that might make its day a bad day. I already know its safe, but even if I could communicate with it, I know its judgement is sound. It will know it's safe. Sure enough, the squirrel senses nothing dangerous and scurries down my trunk. It reaches the ground and runs into the forest, where it will search for food that my brothers and sisters have dropped from their branches.

Mrs. Squirrel stays behind in the hollow, nursing the baby squirrels it had given birth to just last week. New life... If I had insides, they would be warm with joy. I secretly named the newborns Nibbles, Peanut, and Bushy, a habit of my former life. They would never know the names I have given them, but that is all right. A squirrel doesn't need a name to survive in the world it is born into. It just needs a home. A safe place to hide and sleep in, free from all the predators that might try to have them for breakfast. I provide that home. It's just a hollow that had formed in my trunk, but it is all they need. And it must be safe. It's been home to many generations of squirrels. Mr. Squirrel's great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-very great grandfather was the first to occupy it, after the bluebirds moved out after many generations of them living there. I still miss the birds, but the squirrels are very nice to me. They must know the great service I provide. The protection I give to each and every one of...

Something brushed up against the bottom of my trunk. Oh. It's Mr Raccoon. He's late returning from his nightly hunt, but it looks like his search was good. In his front paws are two fish, both half-eaten. He must have been hungry coming back after the long trip to the stream. Oh well. His family will still enjoy the food he has brought home. They all live in a burrow that has been dug at my hooves.

...Hooves? I mean roots. Silly me. My former life flashed past my mind again. ...Or whatever I use for a mind.

...That's not the only thing that's just flashed by. A streak of red flies into my sight and lands on one of my branches. Hello, Mrs. Cardinal! She holds a small bundle of hay in her beak. She hops along my branch, which tickles, and slowly tucks them into a larger group of string, twigs, and hay. She slowly weaves everything into a tight circle, carefully adjusting each strand to fit in the nest. My! She's been working on her nest for quite some time. ...But that is for the best. She knows that only a well-built nest will survive the seasons and will allow her and her family to live and grow. I am glad they chose me to build their house on. Soon, Mr Cardinal will come and, not long after that, little Cardinals will appear. They will grow to be as big and as strong as their parents. Maybe when they're grown and everyone has flown off, one of them will return to this nest to house its family. I hope so. I love the birds. I will keep them safe in my strong branches. They have nothing to fear while I'm around, for I'm a mighty oak, rather than what I used to be.

I wasn't always what I am now. A very long time ago, how long, I do not know, since trees have no concept of time, I was flesh and blood. I was a pony. A strange creature with four hooves and multi-colored coats, each with a symbol on their flanks to identify themselves. Trees do not need these symbols. We know who we are. But it seems that ponies don't. Very strange to depend on a marking to remember who you are... Very strange indeed.

And yet, I was once one of these. I did not stand in one place, watching over the forest like I do now. I was mobile, like the animals I protect. My skin wasn't as tough as it is now. ...In fact, if I remember correctly, it was very soft and delicate. Blows that I wouldn't even notice today would have knocked me down flat then. I wasn't even as brave as I am now. I had plenty to be afraid of then. I think my shadow was my greatest fear. How silly I must have been, hiding from my shadow all the time. But there was one thing that hasn't changed now: I loved the animals. They were all my friends. Big or small. Fierce or tame. Reptile or mammal. I loved them all... and they loved me too. But no matter how much I knew about them, I still didn't know enough. The animal nature puzzled me. I could never understand why the animals did what they do. Why the squirrels gathered nuts instead of find more plentiful food sources. Why the fish swam upstream and downstream even if the waters were warm all year. Why the birds flew south for the winter instead of bundle together for warmth. I did not know... and that saddened me.

...Then, one day, my life changed forever. I guess it was my fault. After all, I asked for it. One of my friends(it has been so long, I can't even remember her name... or what she looked like)had announced that she learned a new spell, a spell to change a pony like me into a plant. I had always been fascinated with nature, and now here was my chance to become one with all the animals and plants. I jumped at the opportunity. She was hesitant, I remember, since she had just learned this spell and didn't know how it would work, but I so wanted to become a plant, any kind of plant, that I asked again and again. It was probably the only time during that life I ever pestered my friend. Had she known what would happen, I might have continued to grow up a pony and would never experience my life as it is now... but nothing can predict the future. She gave in.

She and I walked to the area where I stand now, away from all hazards that might cause the spell to go wrong, and it was there that she used her amazing magic. The glow from her horn was extrememly radiant as she focused on what the spell would do. Soon, the light spread from her horn and surrounded me. I have never seen such brilliance again. The different colors swirling around and around my form, shapes slowly forming. It was amazing, but I must have been frightened at the time.

And then, the transformation started.

You may think it scary for your skin to harden and become a greenish-gray.

For your four limbs to merge and become a trunk.

For your wings to stretch and form branches.

For your entire body to become something else.

A different form of life...

For me, it was... at first. But as the magic changed my body, I began to feel something different. A sense of peace and tranquility that I had never felt before in my short pony life. A sense that there was no longer anything to fear. That the earth itself was protecting me... and that it was counting on me to protect its children. It was a wonderful feeling, and it continued even after the spell had completed and I stood in that spot, a young oak sapling. It had hurt... but not too much. After the transformation was done, I began to feel something else. A feeling that it was time to grow. That I was already a sapling for too long and it was time to stretch my branches and become big. I opened my leaves for the first time, my roots took it their first water, and I felt the wonders of nature flow through my new plant body. It was wonderful. I felt like I was part of the earth, that I was somehow connected to everything else. The bird in the sky. The fish in the pond. The squirrel in a tree next to me. Everything seemed to be one, and I was part of it. It was such a glorious feeling, I didn't want it to end. I just wanted to continue to live this way forever, basking in the warm light of the sun, soaking in the wetness of the ground, feeling that I was connected with everything in the world.

...That may have been why the spell to change me back didn't work... We had agreed that the transformation would only be for an hour. After the first hour, she cast the spell to change me back, but it didn't work. She tried again. I remained in that form. She tried over and over and over, for many hours, but I still would not change back to my older form. She was worried. I wasn't. I suppose I should have been, but I couldn't find any reason to be. I was happy. Happier than I had been ever since... there may have been an event I was happy about then, but I have long since forgotten it. That is my only regret. That I wasn't able to tell her she shouldn't worry. She was dedicated though. She tried everything. Her friends(they may have been my friends as well, but I can't remember) tried to help any way they could, but nothing they tried worked. Even the most powerful pony in the land was powerless to reverse the spell. But my friend still wouldn't give up, even after everyone else did. She used every ounce of magic in her to turn me back into a pony, but nothing worked. I didn't mind at all and I wished I could tell her, but something told me she would find out for herself. The days turned into months. The months into years. She would still show up to try and break what she regarded as a curse, but what I regard as a blessing, but despite her magic visibly growing stronger as she grew older, nothing worked. She would cry. She would beg. She would regret ever having learned magic. She would offer anything to nopony in particular just to have me back. She just couldn't see how happy I was. How I wished to stay like this forever... Eventually, she gave up. She learned to live with it.

I didn't see her for a long time after that. I stayed rooted in place here, eating, breathing, and, most importantly, growing. In just a short time, I was no longer a sapling. I was a maturing tree. My trunk became wider, my branches spread out, and I grew several sizes. I also developed a hollow, which soon after contained its first occupant. A family of newts, if I remember correctly. Its the strangest feeling having an animal inside you, but it's a wonderful feeling when you know that's what you're there for. To provide shelter to the needy inhabitants of the forest.

And then, she showed up again. My friend had returned! She was much, much older than the last time we had last seen each other, and I knew it wouldn't be long before she passed on. Ponies don't live that long... or at least, not as long as I will live. But with her, running around and laughing were several much younger ponies. Her descendants, perhaps? It warms whatever I have for a heart to see life continue, especially the life of a friend who had stayed loyal to the end. I watched as my old friend told a story to the young fillies, but I can't remember the story. But I do remember that after the story, all the ponies turned and stared at me in awe. The little ones played around me for some time, then everyone left, and that was the last time I ever saw my friend. ...But the young ones returned. I had grown many more feet and many more branches when ponies I recognized as the young fillies returned to my area of the woods. ...But they were no longer so young. They were fully grown, and each had brought their own children with them. By this time, several animals had made their home either on or in me, but I didn't worry. I knew the ponies weren't here to cause trouble. They wouldn't hurt my friends. They returned again and again. Sometimes it was only a few days. Others, it was months or years. But each time they returned, they brought others with them.

As I grew, so did the number of ponies that would visit. By the time I reached my full height, many, many ponies would visit, though not nessesarily all at the same time. I became a curiosity. A symbol. A landmark. They would throw parties around me(why does that remind me of something?). They would celebrate their holidays and hold their meetings near me. They would gather and listen to stories about the forest and me from the older ponies, passed down from generation to generation. Each time, the stories changed, until what they were told was far from the truth. Some ponies, after hearing these stories, dedicated their time to repeating what my friend had tried to do a long time ago, each attempt meeting with the same success she had had. I felt sad for these ponies and relieved when they gave up sooner than my friend had. I didn't need to change back. I was, and still am, happy with what I've become. The gatherings continued for a long, long time. Sometimes, mean-spirited ponies disturbed the animals that used me to rest, and that made me upset. But they would be stopped by other ponies who knew this wasn't what I wanted, and that cheered me up. I am so glad there are still ponies in the world that care for nature, as I once did.

Then, one meeting, there were less ponies than the previous meeting. The one after that, there were even fewer. The numbers began to decrease rapidly, in my view, until, finally, they stopped coming altogether. Whatever happened to make them stop coming, I do not know... I hope it wasn't anything disasterous. ...But that is not for me to worry about. In fact, it helps me. I no longer need to worry about ponies disturbing the animals. Sometimes, a curious pony will wander into the woods to explore, but the visit will be brief and the danger to the animals low. I am glad for that.

Sometimes I wonder what it would be like to be a pony again. To live like I had once lived so long ago. Even though most of my memories of my previous life have faded with time, I still remember what I was like. My skin was soft and delicate, far from the tough bark that now covers me. I could move, and I could fly, but I never went very far. There was never any reason to. All my animal friends were in one place. ...In fact, they were probably the only ones I ever felt confortable around. ...Yes. I remember before this feeling of calmness and peace, I lived with the feeling of fear and nervousness. Everything seemed to scare me. I would jump at my own shadow! ...No. I don't want to go back to that life. Not back to the fear and the cowardice that filled my days... I wish to remain this way. Full of the feelings nature had given me, doing the task it has set for me. I want to feel the gratitude of the animals that use me for their home. I want to continue to live my very long life, which a pony could only dream about. Yes... I wish to remain a tree forever. To dwell among my adoptive brothers and sisters in this beautiful forest, forever green in this magical world.

...But for how long, I wonder. Recently, something new has popped up. A while ago, ponies came to the far end of the forest, riding strange metallic things. The cries of nature sprang up all over the woods as they destroyed the trees, leveled the ground, and started to build something not of nature... Now it stands erect and complete, spewing out smoke into the air. It may be what a tree breathes, but too much chokes us all. The plants, the animals, the lving things. And now the ponies are repeating what they have done. Another area of forest has been cleared out recently, the once lush green replaced by the noise of something scraping and the sight of thick smoke. They are heading in this direction, and if they continue, I may be one of the next to be cut down. One of the next to die for the ponies' needs...

Most of my memory is gone. The rest will soon follow, I'm sure. One day, I may forget I was ever a pony. One day, I may forget to remember at all. What will happen then, I do not know. ...But there is one thing I do know. Even if I forget exactly what my thoughts mean. Even if all my past is wiped away. Whether I die of a very old age, with all my branches barren of life and my roots uprooted by a passing storm, or whether I die so the ponies may continue their destruction of all things green. One thing will remain in my consciousness forever:

My name is Fluttershy, and I like to be a tree!

THE END

820 views