Every morning in Fernwood Forest, the birds woke up and sang. The robin sang sweetly from the top of a pine tree. The blackbird filled the air with long, golden notes. Even the little sparrows sang together in small, happy groups near the river.

And then there was Mira.

Mira was a crow with feathers as dark and shiny as a wet stone after rain. Her orange eyes were sharp and bright. She sat on her favourite branch — the third branch of the oldest oak tree in the forest, the one shaped like a crooked elbow — and she opened her beak wide.

CAAAW! CAAAW! CAAAAW!

The sound was loud. Very loud. It was sharp and rough, like someone scraping a metal spoon against a stone wall. The leaves on the nearby bushes actually shook a little.

But Mira closed her eyes and smiled. Beautiful, she thought. Simply beautiful.

"Good morning, forest!" she called out happily. "Did you enjoy my song?"

Down below, a young rabbit named Otto was eating his breakfast — some fresh clover near the base of the oak tree. He heard Mira's voice and his long ears went flat against his head. He quickly picked up his clover and hopped away without saying a word.

A family of squirrels in the next tree looked at each other. The mother squirrel pressed her small paws over her ears. The baby squirrels giggled quietly. The father squirrel gave them a serious look. "Shhh," he whispered. "Don't be rude." But his own face was very uncomfortable.

Mira did not notice any of this. She was already singing again.

CAAAW! CAAAW! CAAAW-CAAAW!

"I am getting better every day," she said to herself, nodding with great satisfaction. She smoothed her feathers with her beak and looked out at the forest. "One day, all the animals will come to hear me sing. I will have a big concert. Yes. That is a wonderful plan."

She flew down from her branch and landed near the small pond at the edge of the meadow. The pond had dark green water and smelled of wet mud and water plants. A large, old tortoise was sitting near the edge of the water, completely still, his head barely above his shell. His name was Edgar, and he had been living near that pond for longer than anyone could remember.

"Good morning, Edgar!" Mira said cheerfully. "Did you hear my singing today?"

Edgar opened one slow eye. Then the other. He looked at Mira for a long moment before he answered.

"I heard something," he said carefully.

"Wasn't it wonderful?" Mira spread her wings a little, showing off her shiny black feathers.

Edgar looked at the pond. A small frog jumped off a stone and disappeared under the water with a quiet plop. Edgar was quiet for a few seconds. "Mira," he said at last, his deep voice slow and careful, "we should talk. But perhaps... not right now. Come back at sunset. Bring your best listening ears."

Mira tilted her head to one side. That was a strange answer. But she was in too good a mood to think about it much. "Of course!" she said happily. "See you at sunset, Edgar!" And she flew back up to her favourite branch, already thinking about the concert she was going to organise.