Welcome to Feathercorn

Feathercorn is a place within a space where time has no meaning. The sun rises to grace the sky and lights the way for the following moon to honour the night. You won’t find this location on any map, and it can’t be seen by aerial surveillance. There is a myth that the chosen few have travelled there through silken thread of a spider’s web, but myths are often just wind whispers with a twist of verity. The forest, the meadow and the cottage are all part of the enchantment known as Feathercorn. Where life is breathed into every corner, as they all live together in a beautiful synchronized harmony…

The Light of Kindness in Feathercorn Forest

Deep in Feathercorn Forest, where the ancient oaks wore crowns of amber and gold, there lived a wisp. She was no ordinary wisp — whilst her cousins danced aimlessly through the meadows of lands far and away, leading travellers astray, this wisp had made the Feathercorn woodlands her home. She was appropriately named Feather, as Feathercorn Forest was where she was first created into existence.

Every evening, as the sun dipped low, she would emerge from her root-hollow home underneath a large chestnut tree, her soft blue light pulsing gently in the gathering dusk. The forest creatures had grown to love her presence. The red squirrels would chatter excitedly when they spotted her glow, and even the cautious deer would pause in their grazing to watch her drift between the trees.

One particularly crisp October night, Feather noticed something troubling. A young badger cub had wandered too far from his sett, drawn by the intoxicating scent of fallen apples. Now he sat beneath a towering birch, whimpering softly as the darkness closed in around him.

Without hesitation, Feather floated down, her light casting dancing shadows on the carpet of russet leaves. She began to move slowly through the trees, pausing every few metres to ensure the little badger was following. Her gentle glow illuminated the safest path, avoiding the hidden rabbit holes and thorny brambles that could trap small paws.

As they walked, other lost creatures emerged from the shadows — a family of hedgehogs who had been foraging too late, and an elderly fox whose eyesight wasn’t what it once was. One by one, Feather guided them all safely home, her light growing brighter with each act of kindness.

By dawn, Feathercorn Forest was peaceful once more. Feather settled back into her tree hollow, tired but content.

The autumn wind whispered through the branches, carrying with it the grateful songs of all the creatures she had helped. In a world where wisps were known for leading others astray, Feather had chosen a different path — one that brought light to the darkness and hope to the lost.

From that night forward, the animals of Feathercorn Forest would tell their young ones about Feather the Wisp, the guardian light who proved that even the smallest glow could make the biggest difference when guided by a kind heart.

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The Pufflings of Feathercorn Forest

In a cosy burrow beneath the roots of an enormous willow tree lived the Puffling family – soft, round creatures covered in downy fur that changed colour with their moods. Papa Puffling’s fur shimmered blue when he was content, Mama Puffling’s turned rosy pink when she laughed, and their three little ones – Pip, Pop, and Puddle – were constantly shifting through rainbow hues as they bounced about their underground home.

The Pufflings were natural bouncers, their springy bodies perfectly designed for gentle hops and tumbles. Their burrow was filled with soft moss cushions and curved tunnels that echoed with their melodic humming – for Pufflings communicated as much through song as through words.

One morning, little Puddle discovered that her favourite bouncing chamber had filled with water from the recent rains. She sat by the flooded room, her fur turning a worried grey. “Whatever shall we do?” she hummed sadly. “The Grand Bounce competition is tomorrow, and I haven’t practised my triple-spin-hop.”

Papa Puffling’s fur flickered thoughtfully between blue and green. “Perhaps,” he hummed, “this isn’t a problem but an opportunity.”

The family gathered round as Papa demonstrated something wonderful – by bouncing gently on the water’s surface, the Pufflings could create the most magnificent ripples and splashes, turning their movements into a water dance. Soon all the Pufflings were giggling and bouncing, their fur cycling through brilliant colours as they discovered this new way to play.

Mama Puffling’s melodic laughter filled the chamber as she performed an elegant spinning leap that sent droplets sparkling through the air like tiny diamonds.

When the Grand Bounce arrived, the Pufflings presented their water dance to the gathered woodland creatures. The audience of rabbits, hedgehogs, and field mice had never seen anything so delightful – the combination of bouncing, singing, and shimmering water created pure magic.

Puddle’s fur glowed golden with pride as the forest folk applauded. She’d learned that sometimes the most wonderful discoveries come from the most unexpected changes.

That evening, as the family settled into their moss beds, their fur all glowing the warm amber of contentment, they hummed their traditional goodnight song – a gentle melody that drifted up through the willow roots and into the starlit world above.

Mitzi Hoot The Almost Vegetarian Owl

Mitzi Hoot lives with her mother in a cozy moss nook, accessed only through a secret crevice in an enormous oak tree down in Hazelfen Hollow, deep within Feathercorn Forest. Mitzi is an owl, and she truly believes being an owl is the best creature in the forest. She sits on the highest branches of the tallest trees, flies silently through the air, has excellent hearing, and gets to stay up all night.

Mitzi likes to get up early, before it gets dark, so she can spend time with her friends before they’re called in for the night. They play hide and seek, forest run rush, blind one’s bluff, I spy, and many others.

One late summer evening, after a game of blind one’s bluff where Mitzi was ‘It’ and tracked all her friends by sound alone, her mother told her she was old and clever enough to get her own food.

Up to now, Mitzi had been fed by her mother, so she was keen to learn. Moving silently from treetop to treetop, then down to the lower branches, Mitzi followed her mum.

“Usually, I can see a good meal from this distance,” Mrs. Hoot explained quietly. “But if I can’t, then I take to the wing.”

Mitzi hoped they could fly together so she could show her mum her glide and roll.

Mrs. Hoot nodded toward the pond. “I’ll only hunt there if nothing more edible is available tonight.”

They took flight and landed silently above where a family of mice were scurrying into a small burrow for the night, oblivious to their onlookers.

“You’re lucky tonight, my little one,” Mrs. Hoot said. “You can take your pick.”

Mitzi froze, horrified. “That’s Mr. And Mrs. Oat and their children.”

“I know,” Mrs. Hoot replied. “And she’s fed them so well all summer. Lovely little dumplings they are.”

Mr. Oat was leading them into the burrow while Mrs. Oat counted them into line:

“Tilly, Top, Tandy, Teg, Taddy, Taw, Tala, Tona, Teal, Tabi, Tarn and Tot.”

“Take a dive,” said Mrs. Hoot. “Or you’ll end up with that scrawny little thing at the end.”

“That’s Tot,” Mitzi gasped. “He’s my best friend.”

“You should never play with your food, let alone make friends with it,” Mrs. Hoot replied.

Later, empty beaked, and tired, Mrs. Hoot and Mitzi returned home. Mitzi was upset, tearful, and very hungry, but went to bed without supper, or a single word. Mrs. Hoot was just hungry, so she went out.

Later that night Mrs. Hoot returned and fed Mitzi.

“Not Tot?” Mitzi mumbled sleepily.

“Not Tot,” her mother replied.

Mrs. Hoot sighed. Other mothers were already criticizing her for having an owl who was still on the beak. Maybe she’d left it too late. She had no idea Mitzi would reject taking the hunt, or the food. She knew Mitzi played before dark, but she thought hunger would take over and owl instinct would prevail.

Forcing her to hunt a meal could break Mitzi, and it would break their trusting mother-daughter relationship.

So Mum made a plan. She spent the next few nights flying from burrow to hollow, striking deals across the forest. To the squirrels she offers night guard duty for acorns and hazelnuts. To the field mice she trades silent watch for wheat and barley. To the thrushes she promises protection from crows for sweet ripe berries.

All the time she’s teaching Mitzi to forage for herself – worms, grubs, beetles, wood lice. So there's still meat mixed in, but nothing with fur or feathers.

As the months pass Mitzi grew big and strong, all the time sharing what she’s learned.

Tot is no longer a scrawny little runt. He’s also eating berries, with mixed grubs corn and nuts, and thriving right alongside her.

Sharing and caring is the kind of love that can spread across a whole forest.

And it did.