← Koala Moon: Kids Bedtime Stories & Sleep Stories for Kids Podcast
Koala Moon: Kids Bedtime Stories & Sleep Stories for Kids Podcast
Squirrel Nutkin & Miss Tiggy-Winkles 🐿️🐭 Abbe's Bookshelf: Beatrix Potter
00:36:53
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- [00:11]
Narrator
Hello and welcome back to Koala Moon, a podcast of original children's bedtime stories and meditations designed to make bedtime a dream. Before we get started, I would love to welcome Caitlin from South queensferry back into the Coco Club for her third year. We are just so happy that you're loving the stories, Caitlin and supporting us to continue to make the podcast. So thank you so much. Before we begin, a quick message for the grown ups. If you'd like to support our podcast, enjoy ad free listening, unlock four bonus stories per month and much, much more. You can join Koko Club. Subscribe in just two taps via the link in the show notes, but now here's a quick word from our sponsors before we settle in for tonight's sleepy story. Here's something for the grown ups and for our little dreamers who love big adventures with Groupon, it's easier than ever to make magical memories together. If your little one has ever wished they could leap into a Koala Moon adventure, like taking a ballet class with Koko and Kira or riding the monorail with Hector and Sunny, Groupon might just have the real world version waiting for you. From trampoline parks and pottery classes to petting zoos and planetarium visits, Groupon helps families discover amazing activities, all at prices that make it easier to say yes to fun. So when the sun comes up and those curious feet are ready to explore, just open the Groupon app and see what surprises are nearby. I've taken a peek already and I'm super excited about what's coming up this summer. For a limited time only and exclusively for our Koala Moon listeners, you can you can use code MOON30 to get 30% off when checking out at Groupon before May 31st. That's code MOON30 for real life fun at fairytale prices. Groupon Adventure is just around the corner.
- [02:09]
Geoffrey
Hey parents, Geoffrey here. If you love the stories on Koala Moon and need a little help falling asleep yourself, I have just the thing introducing my show Nightfalls, where I read original and classic bedtime stories specially crafted to help busy people and minds fall asleep effortlessly. Each story slows, gently guiding you to sleep. We'll go on mystical journeys through my series the Falls, where I share enchanting tales from my past, exploring the magic of the falls and the unique people I've met along the way. I'll also share classic nostalgic stories around the fire, like Winnie the Pooh. With Nightfalls, you'll drift off to sleep easily and wake up refreshed. So search Nightfalls on all podcast platforms, that's Night falls and hit follow. So when it's time for bed, you'll find the show easily. I'll see you there.
- [03:08]
Narrator
In tonight's installment of Abby's Bookshelf, I'm once more reaching for Beatrix Potter's Charming Animal Tales. I really loved these little stories when I was small, partly because they were the perfect size for my pocket, really little short stories. And tonight I'm going to read three of them, so it's your turn to hear them. We're going to visit first the cheeky chatty squirrel, nutkin, and then Ms. Tiggy Winkles, and lastly, Johnny Town Mouse, all on their wonderful imaginative adventures. So relax and snuggle down into bed and I'll get started. We're going to begin with the tale of Squirrel Nutkin by Beatrix Potter. This is a tale about a tail, a tail that belonged to a little red squirrel and his name was Nutkin. He had a brother called Twinkleberry and a great many cousins. They lived in a wood at the edge of a lake. In the middle of the lake there is an island covered with trees and nut bushes, and amongst those trees stands a hollow oak tree which is the house of an owl who is called Old Brown. One autumn, when the nuts were ripe and the leaves on the hazel bushes were golden and green, Nutkin and Twinkleberry and all the other little squirrels came out of the wood and down to the edge of the lake. They made little rafts out of twigs and they paddled away over the water to Owl island to gather nuts. Each squirrel had a little sack and a large oar and spread out his tail for a sail. They also took with them an offering of three fat mice as a present for Old Brown and put them down upon his doorstep. Then Twinkleberry and the other little squirrels each made a low bow and said politely, Old Mr. Brown, will you favour us with permission to gather nuts upon your island? But Nutkin was excessively impertinent in his manners. He bobbed up and down like a little red cherry, singing, riddle me, riddle me, rote toe Toad. A little wee man in a red, red coat, a staff in his hand and a stone in his throat. If you'll tell me this riddle, I'll give you a groat. Now this riddle is as old as the hills. Mr. Brown paid no attention whatever to Nutkin. He shut his eyes obstinately and went to sleep. The squirrels filled their little sacks with nuts and sailed away home in the evening. But next morning they all came back again. To Owl island. And Twinkleberry and the others brought a fine fat mole and laid it on the stone in front of Old Brown's doorway and said, Mr. Brown, will you favour us with your gracious permission to gather more nuts? But Nutkin, who had no respect, began to dance up and down, tickling old Mr. Brown with a nettle and singing, Hold, Mr. B. Riddle me ree Hitty pitti within the wall. Hitty pitti without the wall. If you touch Hitty Pitti, Hitty Pitti will bite you. Mr. Brown woke up suddenly and carried the mole into his house. He shut the door in Nutkin's face. Presently a little thread of blue smoke from a wood fire came up from the top of the tree and Nutkin peeped through the keyhole and sang. A houseful. A hole full and you cannot gather. A bowl full. The squirrels searched for nuts all over the island and filled their little sacks. But Nutkin gathered oak apples yellow and scarlet and sat upon a beech stump playing marbles and watching the door of old Mr. Brown. On the third day the squirrels got up very early and went fishing. They caught seven fat minnows as a present for Old Brown. They paddled over the lake and landed under a crooked chestnut tree on Owl Island. Twinkleberry and six other little squirrels each carried a fat minnow. But Nutkin, who had no nice manners, brought no present at all. He ran in front singing. The man in the wilderness said to me, how many strawberries grow in the sea? I answered him as I thought, good as many red herrings as grow in the wood. But old Mr. Brown took no interest in riddles, not even when the answer was provided for him. On the fourth day, the squirrels brought a present of six fat beetles which were as good as plums in plum pudding for Old Brown. Each beetle was wrapped up carefully in a dock leaf fastened with a pine needle pin. But Nutkin sang as rudely as ever. Old Mr. B. Riddle me re Flower of England, fruit of Spain, met together in a shower of rain, Put in a bag tied round with a string. If you'll tell me this riddle, I'll give you a ring. Which was ridiculous of Nutkin, because he had not got any ring to give Old Brown. The other squirrels hunted up and down the nut bushes, but Nutkin gathered robin's pin cushions off a brier bush and stuck them full of pine needle pins. On the fifth day, the squirrels brought a present of wild honey. It was so sweet and sticky that they licked their fingers as they put it down upon the stone. They had Stolen it out of a bumblebee's nest on the tippity top of the hill. But Nutkin skipped up and down singing Hummabum buzz buzz, hummab buzz. As I went over Tipple Tyne I met a flock of bonny swine Some yellow necked, some yellow backed they were the veriest, bonniest swine that ever went over tipplet Tyne. Old Mr. Brown turned up his eyes in disgust at the impertinence of Nutkin. But he ate up the honey. The squirrels filled their little sacks with nuts, But Nutkin sat upon a big flat rock and played ninepins with a crab apple and green fir cones. On the sixth day, which was Saturday, the squirrels came again for the last time. They brought a new laid egg in a little rush basket as a last parting present for Old Brown. But Nutkin ran in front, laughing and shouting, Humpty Dumpty lies in the back with a white counterpane around his neck. 40 doctors and 40 Wrights cannot put Humpty Dumpty to rights. Now old Mr. Brown took an interest in eggs. He opened one eye and shut it again, but still he did not speak. Nutkin became more and more impertinent. Old Mr. B. Old Mr. B. Hickamore, Hickamore on the King's kitchen door. All the King's horses and all the King's men Couldn't drive Hick off the King's kitchen door. Nutkin danced up and down like a sunbeam. But still old Mr. Brown said nothing at all. Nutkin began again. Arthur Abouwer has broken his band. He comes roaring up the land. The King of Scots with all his power cannot turn Arthur off the bower. Nutkin made a whirring noise to sound like the wind and he took a running jump right onto the head of Old Brown. Then all at once, there was a flutterment and a scufflement and a loud squeak. The other animals scutted away into the bushes. When they came back, very cautiously peeping round the tree, there was Old Brown sitting on his doorstep quite still with his eyes closed, as if nothing had happened. But Nutkin was in his waistcoat pocket. This looks like the end of the story, but it isn't. Old Brown carried Nutkin into his house and held him up by the tail. But Nutkin pulled so very hard that he left all the fur in Old Brown's claw. And he dashed up the staircase and escaped out of the attic window. And to this day, if you meet Nutkin up a tree and ask him a Riddle. He will throw sticks at you and stamp his feet and scold and shout the tale of Miss Tiggy Winkles. Once upon a time, there was a little girl called Lucy who lived at a farm called Little Town. She was a good little girl, only she was always losing her pocket handkerchiefs. One day little Lucy came into the farmyard crying. Oh, she did cry so. I've lost my pocket handkin. Three handkins and a pinny. Have you seen them, tabby kitten? The kitten went on washing her white paws. So Lucy asked a speckled hen, Sally Henny Penny, have you found three pocket handkins? But the speckled hen ran into a barn, clucking, I go barefoot, barefoot, barefoot. And then Lucy asked Robin, sitting on a twig. Robin looked sideways at Lucy with his bright black eye and he flew over a stile and away. Lucy climbed up on the stile and looked up at the hill behind Little Town. A hill that goes up, up into the clouds. As though it had no top and a great way up the hillside. She thought she saw some white things spread upon the grass. Lucy scrambled up the hill as fast as her stout legs would carry her. She ran along a steep path way up and up until Littletown was right away down below. She could have dropped a pebble down the chimney. Presently she came to a spring bubbling out from the hillside. Someone had stood a tin can upon a stone to catch the water. But the water was already running over, for the can was no bigger than an egg cup. And where the sand upon the path was wet there were footmarks of a very small person. Lucy ran on and on. The path ended under a big rock. The grass was short and green, and there were clothes props cut from bracken stems with lines of plaited rushes and a heap of tiny clothespins, but no pocket handkerchiefs. But there was something else. A door straight into the hill. And inside it someone was singing. Lily white and clean O with little frills between oh, smooth and hot Red rusty spot never here be seen. Oh. Lucy knocked once, twice, and interrupted the song. A little frightened voice called out, who's that? Lucy opened the door and what do you think there was inside the hill? A nice clean kitchen with a flagged floor and wooden beams just like any other farm kitchen. Only the ceiling was so low that Lucy's head nearly touched it. And the pots and pans were small and so was everything there. There was a nice hot, singy smell. And at the table with an iron in her hand stood a very stout, short person staring anxiously at Lucy. Her Print gown was tucked up and she was wearing a large apron over her striped petticoat. Her little black nose went sniffle, sniffle, snuffle and her eyes went twinkle, twinkle. And underneath her cap where Lucy had yellow curls, that little person had prickles. Who are you? Said Lucy. Have you seen my pocket hangkins? The little person made a bob curtsy. Oh, yes, if you please, M. My name is Mrs. Tiggy Winkle. Oh, yes, if you please. I'm an excellent clear starcher. And she took something out of a clothes basket and spread it on the ironing blanket. What's that thing? Said Lucy. That's not my pocket hankin. Oh, no, if you please'm. That's a little scarlet waistcoat belonging to Robin. And she ironed it and folded it and put it on one side. Then she took something else off, a clothes horse. That isn't my pinny, said Lucy. Oh, no, if you please'm. That's a damask tablecloth belonging to Dam Jenny Wren. Look how it's stained with currant wine. It's very bad to wash, said Mrs. Tiggy Winkle. But Mrs. Tiggy Winkle's nose went sniffle, sniffle, snuffle. And her eyes went twinkle, twinkle. And she fetched another hot iron from the fire. There's one of my pocket hankins. Cried Lucy. And there's my pinny. Mrs. Tiggy Winkle ironed it and goffered it and shook out the frills. Oh, that is lovely, said Lucy. And what are those long yellow things with fingers like gloves? Oh, that's a pair of stockings belonging to Sally Henny Penny. Look how she's worn the heels out with scratching in the yard. She'll very soon go barefoot, said Mrs. Tiggy Winkle. Why, there's another hanker sniff. But it isn't mine. It's red. Oh, now, if you please, M. That one belongs to old Mrs. Rabbit and it did so smell of onions. I've had to wash it separately. I can't get out the smell. There's another one of mine, said Lucy. What are those funny little white things? That's a pair of mittens belonging to Tabby Kitten. I only have to iron them. She washes them herself. That's my last pocket hankin, said Lucy. And what are you dipping into the basin of starch? They're little dicky shirt fronts belonging to Tom Titmouse most terrible particular, said Mrs. Tiggy Winkle. Now I've finished my ironing, I'm going to air some clothes. What are those, dear? Soft, fluffy things, said Lucy. Oh, those are woolly coats belonging to the little lambs at Skelkill. Will their jackets take off? Said Lucy. Oh, yes, if you please. Look at the sheet mark on the shoulder. And here's one marked for Gates Garth and three. They come from Little Town. They're always marked at washing, said Miss Diggy Winkle, and she hung up all sorts and sizes of clothes. Small brown coats of mice and one velvety black moleskin waistcoat. And a red tail coat with no tail belonging to Squirrel Nutkin. And a very much shrunk blue jacket belonging to Peter Rabbit. And a petticoat not marked, that had gone lost in the washing and at last the basket was empty. Then Mrs. Tiggy Winkle made tea, a cup for herself and a cup for Lucy. They sat before the fire on a bench and looked sideways at one another. Mrs. Tiggy Winkle's hand holding the teacup was very, very brown and very, very wrinkly with the soap suds and all through her gown and her cap there were hairpins sticking wrong end out so that Lucy didn't like to sit too near her. When they'd finished tea they tied up the clothes in bundles and Lucy's pocket handkerchiefs were folded up inside her clean pinny and fastened with a silver safety pin. And then they made up the fire with turf and came out and locked the door and hid the key under the door sill. Then away down the hill trotted Lucy and Mrs. Tiggy Winkle with the bundles of clothes. All the way down the path little animals came out of the fern to meet them. The very first that they met were Peter Rabbit and Benjamin Bunny, and she gave them their nice clean clothes and all the little animals and birds were so very much obliged to dear Mrs. Tiggy Winkle so that at the bottom of the hill when they came to the stile there was nothing left to carry except Lucy's one little bundle. Lucy scrambled up to the stile with the bundle in her hand and then she turned to say good night and to thank the washerwoman. But what a very odd thing. Mrs. Tiggy Winkle had not waited either for thanks or for the washing bill. She was running, running, running up the hill and where was her white frilled cap and her shawl and her gown and her petticoat? And how small she had grown and how brown and covered with prickles. Why, Mrs. Tiggy Winkle was nothing but a hedgehog. Now, some people say that little Lucy had been asleep upon the stile, but then how could she have found three clean pocket hangkins and a pinny pinned with a silver safety pin? And besides, I have seen that door into the back of the hill called Cat Bell's. And besides, I am very well acquainted with deer, Mrs. Tiggy Winkle. The Tale of Johnny Town Mouse Johnny Townmouse was born in a cupboard. Timmy Willie was born in a garden. Timmy Willie was a little country mouse who went to town by mistake in a hamper. The gardener sent vegetables to town once a week by carrier. He packed them in a big hamper. The gardener left the hamper by the garden gate so that the carrier could pick it up when he passed. Timmy Willie crept in through a hole in the wickerwork and after eating some peas, Timmy Willie fell fast asleep. He awoke while the hamper was being lifted into the carrier's cart. Then there was a jolting and a clattering of horses feet. Other packages were thrown in for miles and miles, jolt, jolt, jolt. And Timmy Willie tumbled amongst the jumbled up vegetables. At last the cart stopped at a house where the hamper was taken out, carried in and set down. The cook gave the carrier sixpence. The back door banged and the cart rumbled away. But there was no quiet. There seemed to be hundreds of carts passing. Dogs barked, boys whistled in the street. The cook laughed. The parlourmaid ran up and downstairs, and a canary sang like a steam engine. Timmy Willie, who had lived all his life in a garden, was frightened. Presently the cook opened the hamper and began to unpack the vegetables. Out sprang the terrified Timmy Willie. Up jumped the cook on a chair, exclaiming, a mouse. A mouse. Call the cat. Fetch me the poker, Sarah. Timmy Willie did not wait for Sara with the poker. He rushed along the skirting board till he came to a little hole, and in he popped. He dropped half a foot and crashed into the middle of a mouse dinner party, breaking three glasses. Who in the world is this? Inquired Johnny Town Mouse. But after the first exclamation of surprise, he instantly recovered his manners. With the utmost politeness, he introduced Timmy Willie to nine other mice, all with long tails and white neckties. Timmy Willie's own tail was insignificant. Johnny Town Mouse and his friends noticed it, but they were too well bred to make personal remarks. Only one of them asked Timmy Willie if he'd ever been in a trap. The dinner was of eight courses, not much of anything, but truly elegant. All the dishes were unknown to Timmy Willie, who would have been a little afraid of tasting them, only he was very hungry and very anxious to behave with company manners. The continual noise upstairs made him so nervous that he dropped a plate. Never mind, they don't belong to us, said Johnny. Why don't those youngsters come back with the dessert? It should be explained that two young mice who were waiting on the others went skirmishing upstairs to the kitchen between courses. Several times they had come tumbling in, squeaking and laughing. Timmy Willie learnt with horror that they were being chased by the cat. His appetite failed. He felt faint. Try some jelly, said Johnny Town Mouse. No. Would you rather go to bed? I will show you a most comfortable sofa pillow. The sofa pillow had a hole in it. Johnny Town Mouse quite honestly recommended it as the best bed kept exclusively for visitors. But the sofa smelt of cat. Timmy Willie preferred to spend a night under the fender. It was just the same. Next day, an excellent breakfast was provided for mice accustomed to eat bacon. But Timmy Willie had been reared on roots and salad. Johnny Town Mouse and his friends racketed about under the floors and came boldly out all over the house in the evening. One particularly loud crash had been caused by Sarah tumbling downstairs with a tea tray. There were crumbs and sugar and smears of jam to be collected. In spite of the cat, Timmy Willie longed to be at home in his peaceful nest in a sunny bank. The food disagreed with him. The noise prevented him from sleeping. Johnny Town Mouse noticed it and questioned him. He listened to Timmy Willie's story and inquired about the garden. It sounds rather a dull place. What do you do when it rains? When it rains, I sit in my little sandy burrow and shower corn and seeds from my autumn store. I peep out at the throstles and the blackbirds on the lawn and my friend robin. And when the sun comes out again, you should see my garden and the flowers. Roses and pinks and pansies. No noise except the birds and the bees and the lambs in the meadows. There goes that cat again. Exclaimed Johnny Town Mouse. When they'd taken refuge in the coal cellar, he resumed the conversation. I confess I am a little disappointed. We've endeavoured to entertain you, Timothy William. Oh, yes, yes, you have been most kind. But I do feel so ill, said Timmy Willie. It may be that your teeth and digestion are unaccustomed to our food. Perhaps it might be wiser for you to return in the hamper. Oh, oh. Cried Timmy Willie. Why, of course. For the matter of that, we could have had you sent back last week, said Johnny rather huffily. Did you not know that the hamper goes back empty on Saturdays? So Timmy Willie said goodbye to his new friends and hid in the hamper with a crumb of cake and a withered cabbage leaf. And after much jolting, he was set down safely in his own garden. Sometimes on Saturdays he went to look at the hamper lying by the gate, but he knew better than to get in again and nobody got out. Though Johnny Town Mouse had half promised a visit, the winter passed. The sun came out again. Timmy Willie sat by his burrow, warming his little fur coat and sniffing the smell of violets and spring grass. He had nearly forgotten his visit to town when up the sandy path all spick and span with a brown leather bag came Johnny Town Mouse. Timmy Willie received him with open arms. You've come at the best time of all the year. We will have herb pudding and sit in the sun. Hmm, it's a little damp, said Johnny Town Mouse, who was carrying his tail under his arm out of the mud. What is that fearful noise? He started violently. What? Said Timmy Willie. Oh, that's only a cow. I will beg a little milk. They are quite harmless unless they happen to lie down upon you. How are all of our friends? Johnny's account was rather middling. He explained why he was paying his visit so early in the season. The family had gone to the seaside for Easter. The cook was doing spring cleaning. Whatever is that fearful racket? Said Johnny Town Mouse. That's only the lawn mower. I will fetch some of the grass clippings presently to make your bed. I am sure you had better settle in the country, Johnny. We shall see. By Tuesday week. The hamper is stopped while they're at the seaside. I'm sure you'll never want to live in town again, said Timmy Willie. But he did. He went back in the very next hamper of vegetables. He said it was too quiet. One place suits one person, another place suits another person. For my part, I prefer to live in the country like Timmy Willie.