Long ago, in a quiet stretch of forest where the sunlight danced through green leaves and the breeze hummed like a lullaby, there lived two tall trees. One was a graceful birch, with smooth pale bark that gleamed in the morning light. The other was a sturdy beech, proud of its wide branches and deep roots.

They had stood side by side for many years, watching squirrels play, owls perch, and deer wander through their shade. One spring morning, they noticed something new: right between them, a tiny sapling had started to grow. Its leaves were still small and its bark barely formed, but it stood tall with youthful determination.

The beech leaned toward the birch and whispered, half teasing and half curious:
“Tell me, old friend—do you think that little one is a son of a beech… or perhaps a son of a birch?”

The birch rustled its leaves, puzzled.
“Well, I can’t say for sure. It doesn’t look exactly like either of us. The shape is tricky, the bark is still soft. Honestly, I just don’t know.”

They both stared at the sapling for a while, wondering who it might belong to. Finally, the birch had an idea.
“Why don’t we ask someone who really knows wood? Someone who spends all day tapping, testing, and tasting trees?”

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As if on cue, a woodpecker swooped down from the sky, landing right on the little sapling with a cheerful flutter of wings. He began to peck at the bark, tapping rhythmically like a tiny forest drum.

The birch called out, “Good morning, Woodpecker! You’re the expert here. Can you help us solve a mystery? We need to know if this sapling is a son of a beech or a son of a birch.”

The woodpecker paused, tilted his head, and gave the sapling a few more precise pecks. He even tasted a bit of the bark with his sharp beak, nodding thoughtfully as if he were a fine food critic sampling a new dish.

After a long pause, he puffed out his chest and declared:
“My friends, this young tree is neither a son of a beech nor a son of a birch…”

The birch and beech leaned in with anticipation.

“…but I’ll tell you this—it’s the best piece of ash I’ve ever poked my pecker into!”

The entire forest seemed to giggle as the leaves shook in the wind. Even the birch and the beech couldn’t help but laugh at the woodpecker’s cheeky answer.

So next time you hear trees rustling, don’t be surprised—it might just be them sharing this story again. And now that you know it, don’t keep that smile to yourself. Go ahead and pass it on.

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